CREME DE LA CREME

MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH ICE CREAM began in Compton, California in the summer of 1962. I was four years old and was staying with my Aunt Baby Doll. We lived on Poplar Street.

Like just about any urban neighborhood back in those days, euphoria would engulf the area whenever the melodious tunes of the ice cream truck could be heard off in the distance – fair warning for all the kids within earshot to go collect whatever spare change they could get. The ice cream man was coming.

Neighborhood kids would lose their minds, racing home to get money from their mothers and then back outside to the much-anticipated ice cream truck. Everyone had their coins ready, with one thin dime as the only thing standing between them and Nutty Buddy nirvana. After they bought the cold and creamy confection of their choice, all of the kids would be running around, singing and happy. But not me.

It wasn't because I wasn't quick enough. I was never the fastest kid on the block, but I ran home fast enough to Ask Aunt Baby Doll for whatever coins she could spare to make my ice cream dreams come true.

The reason I missed out on the ice cream truck action is because of a conversation that went something like this:

Me: (Frantic and excited) Quick, I need money. I need 10 cents.

Aunt Baby Doll: (Cooler than the coolest of cucumbers) Why do you need 10 cents?

Me: The ice cream man is outside. Hurry! He’s gonna leave!

(I'm dumbfounded as to why she is asking me this question. She had eyes and ears just like me. Didn't she know the ice cream man was just outside.)

Aunt Baby Doll: We have ice cream in the freezer. You can have some after dinner.

Me: (Whining) Nooo. It’s not the same as having it right now with everybody else.

Aunt Baby Doll: No. You don’t need that junk.

Me: But why? Everybody else is having it?

Aunt Baby Doll: I said no. Now go back outside and stop pestering me.

I go back outside empty-handed; I'm more crushed than the ice in a snow cone. Everybody has ice cream but me. The other kids look at me with pity. I look at them and their ice cream with longing and envy. All I wanted was an ice cream treat like everybody else.

My ice cream cravings only became more intense. There's nothing like wanting something you've been told for some inexplicable reason that you can't have.

A joyous outing

My aunt must have picked up on my discontent. The reason I say that is because that evening after dinner, my aunt announced that we’re going for a ride. She didn’t say where we’re going. And I don’t remember asking. All I remember is that we pile into her cream-colored Chevrolet and off we go.

Soon we pull into a shopping center. My aunt leads me into a store, Save-On Drugs. As we get near the back of the store, my eyes light up in wonderment when I see something I had never seen before – a cold case filled with every flavor of homemade, hand-dipped ice cream my little kid’s mind could imagine. I was speechless with delight and awe as I stood in front of this huge, colorful display full of luscious treats – my mind now on ice cream overload.

My mouth watered as we went through all of the flavors. I got to pick whatever flavor I wanted, one scoop on a cone. It was such a hard decision. But how could I pass up the strawberry ice cream that was staring at me with big chunks of frozen strawberries?

My aunt chose her favorite: black walnut. Now that I think about it, I feel that she was probably the real ice cream junky and that the trip to the Save-On was really to satisfy her sweet tooth, not mine. Be that as it may, I was a delighted and happy beneficiary of the trip.

Savoring the flavorful memories

We take our ice cream back to the car and we just sit and talk and laugh until we finish our ice cream. I have no idea what we talked about or for how long. I just remember that it was a good time.

The next day when the ice cream man came through the neighborhood, I barely paid it any mind. I knew something much better. Something special was waiting for me. You might say I had been spoiled.

My love affair with ice cream had just begun.

Restraint

These days, I'm still love ice cream just like I did in 1962. But when the COVID-19 pandemic began in spring of 2020, I gave ice cream up for a while. There was something too dangerous about indulging in a sugary dessert like ice cream at a time when it was harder to workout at the gym or go dancing because so many things were shut down or restricted. So for more than a year I went without ice cream – not even a single scoop. No frozen yogurt, no sherbet, no soft-serve, or hand-dipped ice cream. Not one big bowl of Blue Bell (remember, I am from the South), not a scoop of Pitango, not a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, Hagen Das or Halo, which I love.

While I chose to refrain from eating ice cream during the height of the pandemic, I knew the time would come when when ice cream and I would be reunited.

I just can't bear another Summer without ice cream -- thankfully I don't have to.