Ice Cream

I got a kick out of a story that Dan told me last night. When he was in school at the University of Maryland, he worked at Cold Stone Creamery. A woman came into the store with her son, who wanted to order a milkshake made out of the cotton candy flavored ice cream. The kid's mom protested that no one would want to drink that flavor. Dan responded that it was his favorite flavor of ice cream and nodded at the child. The mom turned on Dan and began furiously questioning him as to whether he liked such things as larping and Lord of the Rings. Without a doubt, the mom viewed liking cotton candy ice cream as the key to the code for Dan's hobbies. Maybe figuring out whether he typically eats two scoops of cotton candy ice cream versus drinks a milkshake would be the shortcut to understanding his inner soul? I don't know. If this woman was writing a script, instead of asking about a girl's sign, shady suitors would ask what flavor of ice cream the girl prefers.

When I was in elementary school, my grandma regularly got me milkshakes made out of mint chocolate chip ice cream from Baskin Robbins when she was in town. My dad always bought vanilla ice cream at the grocery store, while I dreamed of other flavors. I don't understand people limiting themselves to vanilla, so I can slightly sympathize with the impulse to make the leap between flavor preferences and personality. The mom at Cold Stone, however, went way too far.

When I went to "Oh, Yeah!," an ice cream parlor in Pittsburgh with a wide variety of vegan ice creams, I marveled at not only at the quality of the chocolate, coffee, and mint flavors, but at the opportunity to mix different chocolates and crumbles into my ice cream. I could even slather my ice cream in several syrups and have it served to me on a waffle. They also offer coffee floats. Go, Pittsburgh!