There is an unopened container of vanilla ice cream in the freezer, just waiting for someone to pry the lid free and take the first scoop. The recent loss of Broadway legend Barbara Cook provides a perfect excuse to feed my sorrow. What better way to celebrate the woman who sang about the virtues of vanilla ice cream in the musical, “She Loves Me” than to break the seal on the container. I cross the kitchen floor in search of a sensible spoon.
Let’s be honest, August provides a perfect excuse for ice cream consumption and I’ve been doing my part. Although partial to the traditional black and white twist dipped or dunked in dark chocolate, I have been exploring new ice cream options based on familial recommendations. Both Blondilocks and Newly Canadian Nephew Sam have pointed me in the direction of ‘’Yellow Cake Batter” at a popular NYC ice cream spot. The ice cream tasted exactly as promised; a clever combination of smooth frozen custard infused with the flavor of classic birthday cake. Generously dipped in chocolate, with one spoonful I was transported to birthday parties of the 1960s. The only thing missing was a garland of crepe paper, a rousing game of Pin-the-Tail-On-the-Donkey, and the smell of freshly extinguished birthday candles. Food memory in an ice cream cup is a mighty powerful thing.
The blackboard hanging on the wall of NYC’s Big Gay Ice Cream spans the entire counter. The flavor combinations are suitably penned in rainbow chalk, offering cone upgrades, cone linings, and enough flavors to make a unicorn prance. Staring/not staring, I observed a perfectly unassuming Size Zero individual tuck into a sundae called, the “Blueberry Gobbler.” Vanilla ice cream, fresh blueberries, and piecrust pieces cozying up to blueberry balsamic swirls, it was a blinding combination of purple, cream, and burple. I made a mental note for my next visit. Size Zero’s plastic spoon was flying through the sundae with great abandon. Further down the line, someone was ordering a gluten free cone lined with peanut butter, filled with chocolate, topped with olive oil and sea salt. Silly me; I thought a cup of “Yellow Cake Batter” was daring.
Possibly inspired by Big Gay Ice Cream’s blueberry sundae or simply because I have to do something with two quart containers of blueberries purchased last week, blueberry pie is on my menu. Leafing through a recent issue of a glossy pie and tart magazine while on line at Whole Paycheck, I’m fixated with a photo of a cinnamon swirl crust. I’m on it, just like olive oil and sea salt on a gluten free-peanut butter lined-chocolate ice cream cone. When the pie is out of the oven and has cooled its heels, you can bet your unicorn I'll be serving it with a large scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Professional Pie-isms & Seasonal Sarcasm