Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Ice cream is like happiness in a spoon

I will be doing the following 25 day blog challenge, starting today:

There are a couple of topics on this list that I have already covered in previous blog challenges, so I'll skip those ones obviously, and since I only have 18 days before my trip to Vegas, I will try to double up a couple of days so that the 25 day challenge takes 18 days to complete.

Ready, set, GO...oh, and happy reading, stalkers. :)

Today's Question: If you had to eat the same meal over and over again for the rest of your life, what would it be, and why?

I swear, I always get prompted to talk about food on the eve of a new cleanse!

If I could eat only one meal for the rest of my life, I would choose...vanilla ice cream, with fresh raspberries on top. Is that a meal? It can be!

My favorite food is ice cream. My favorite fruit is raspberries. Put the two together and I am one happy little clam.

When we were little, Grandma Whitmore fueled a love of ice cream for all of her grandkids, or at least for me and Tony...and after conversation yesterday, Joe and Keri as well. Joe and Keri are years older than me; while they are almost the oldest grandkids, I am almost the youngest. I can only assume, then, that Grandma's ice cream epidemic hit most of us as the years went by. There was always ice cream. Vanilla ice cream and chocolate ice cream. Out of the box where you cut a rectangle serving, not the quarts where you scoop it out. We would get to pick the thickness of our rectangle (and our eyes were forever bigger than our tummies), and she would cut it, then cut it in half to fit it in the bowl, and we could use chocolate syrup - Hershey's, never anything else - out of the can where you pop both sides of the top so the air forces out the deliciousness. I loved going to Grandma Whitmore's house for dinner, sitting at that giant table in the dining room, with her shelves of knick knack salt and pepper shakers, which now adorn a bookcase in my own living room, because ice cream was a guarantee. As much as we wanted, as much syrup as we wanted. And she was the only one to ever let me have one half vanilla and one half chocolate, because that was my favorite.

Ice cream was also an ever-present dessert at Grandma Stacey's house. Always vanilla, in the summertime, after an afternoon of picking raspberries. We got to top our vanilla squares of ice cream with the raspberries we spent all day picking, where Grandma would let us eat as we picked, as long as some berries made it into the flats of green baskets. Even now, after selling their house to move to the beach, and after losing them both, my family still picks raspberries in the summer sunshine in Uncle Mike's backyard, the yard that occupies almost all of my childhood memories, to top our ice cream with. Vanilla ice cream with raspberries not only tastes amazing, but fills my head, my heart, and my soul with the amazing memories of a childhood on Kelvin Street, in the backyard of the best house in the world.

If I could live on ice cream, I would.

Because then every meal would be a party.