Thursday, October 04, 2007
I Scream, You Scream, All Scream for Ice Cream
I was almost 6 years old when we moved from Whitesboro back to Flomot. As we piled into the back of Kuykendall's grocery truck with a load of apples, Walter (age 11) said, "Maybe we'll stop along the way and get an ice cream comb."
For fear of seeming foolish, I suppose, I seldom asked questions, but kept wondering what in the world is an ice cream comb? The only ice cream I knew anything about was made at home from snow, cream, sugar and vanilla. Later I watched someone use an ice cream freezer with a contnainer in the middle surrounded by ice and salt, turned by hand forever until it changed from milk, eggs, and sugar into a delicious icy treat. But I don't remember when I finally tasted an ice cream comb. Probably on a Saturday when we went to Quitaque in the old school bus that served as our family conveyance during the years Daddy drove the kids to school.
I do remember the first soft ice cream delight I encountered at Matador, maybe in the early 50s. Seems like the name was Tasty Freeze or some such. Just pull the handle and watch it pile up in the cone. No struggle with a scoop into the hard frozen substance that tested muscles and patience.
Then, about four years ago, I was taken back to childhood while visiting in Fredericksburg, VA. Son-in-law Ed took us to an old fashioned ice cream stand that not only had unbelievable choices in flavor, but the real waffle cone of my youth. I had forgotten how different and tasty they were. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I seldom buy ice cream because I can't resist "eating it all gone", but I do scoop up a bowl of snow now and then, add sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, and maybe chocolate syrup for a refreshing taste of the Good Old Days.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
For fear of seeming foolish, I suppose, I seldom asked questions, but kept wondering what in the world is an ice cream comb? The only ice cream I knew anything about was made at home from snow, cream, sugar and vanilla. Later I watched someone use an ice cream freezer with a contnainer in the middle surrounded by ice and salt, turned by hand forever until it changed from milk, eggs, and sugar into a delicious icy treat. But I don't remember when I finally tasted an ice cream comb. Probably on a Saturday when we went to Quitaque in the old school bus that served as our family conveyance during the years Daddy drove the kids to school.
I do remember the first soft ice cream delight I encountered at Matador, maybe in the early 50s. Seems like the name was Tasty Freeze or some such. Just pull the handle and watch it pile up in the cone. No struggle with a scoop into the hard frozen substance that tested muscles and patience.
Then, about four years ago, I was taken back to childhood while visiting in Fredericksburg, VA. Son-in-law Ed took us to an old fashioned ice cream stand that not only had unbelievable choices in flavor, but the real waffle cone of my youth. I had forgotten how different and tasty they were. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I seldom buy ice cream because I can't resist "eating it all gone", but I do scoop up a bowl of snow now and then, add sweetened condensed milk, vanilla, and maybe chocolate syrup for a refreshing taste of the Good Old Days.
Cora Gail Trent
www.cgtrent.com
cgtrent@att.net
