Here’s the Deal
If you’re going to eat chocolate ice cream, eat chocolate ice cream. Don’t piddle around with a couple of scoops. Get down to serious chocolate ice cream-eating business and do it right.
It used to be long, long ago (very, very, long ago) that ice cream, any flavor ice cream came in gallon containers. Yup, you read that right, gallon containers. There were three flavors, vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. In gallon containers. Oh, there was another way to buy ice cream. It was called “Neapolitan,” one-third each of strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla. I suspect this was for the mild-mannered ice cream person who could not make up his mind on a flavor. Neapolitan is not a flavor but a confusion, so we’re left with the irrefutable fact that there were in the (good) old days three wonderful flavors of ice cream. Three flavors in gallon containers.
Somewhere along the line two evil things happened to ice cream.
First, someone determined there might be such a thing as too much ice cream. They started putting ice cream out in half-gallon containers. Common sense says it was less a concern for consuming too much ice cream, more a test run of selling half as much for more than half the price. A matter of gouging the consumer. It may be this second explanation was originally untrue; this mean deception didn’t come into practice until years later. That leaves the consumption issue to explain half-gallon containers. Maybe it was because families got smaller and someone figured with fewer pint-sized consumers in the family, a gallon wasn’t required to fill bowls Saturday night before the last television program and bedtime.
Which is bunk. There is no such thing as too much ice cream. If less is the aim – difficult to imagine – scoop less into the bowl. The logic of packing half-gallon containers to reduce consumption fails because there is no stopping a determined and loyal consumer from visiting the freezer a second time. You’ve only made it necessary to buy two containers instead of one.
The second un-good thing that happened to ice cream was the introduction of unnatural flavors. As if Neapolitan wasn’t bad enough. Peach. Blueberry. Raspberry. Then some truly terrible insults, Mississippi Mud, Cookie Dough. Fudge Ripple. Butter Pecan. Moose Tracks. Mint-Anything. An ice cream purist’s sensibilities are offended. The only good of that sorry development was Chocolate-Chocolate-Chocolate. But like, unh, what?
No. If you aim to eat ice cream, eat chocolate ice cream. Vanilla ice cream is, well, it is chocolate ice cream that is not ready to be picked. It’s not ripe. It’s not complete. Strawberry? Strawberry is wrong. It’s vanilla ice cream with strawberry jam swirled in. You can’t make a second-rate ice cream top-rate by adding fruit. Strawberry doesn’t even have the right red color to be even close to real strawberry. It’s pink for goodness sake! Can’t you see what’s wrong with that? Vanilla and strawberry are for the faint of heart, the timid, those who don’t dare life and meet it head-on.
See, the beauty of chocolate ice cream is that it doesn’t need a fancy label or exclusively organic or natural ingredients to taste just fine, thank you. Give me a chocolate ice cream loaded with chemicals and guar gum and xanthycin and a couple of mild toxins. Just don’t forget the chocolate, and don’t muss it up with swirls or nuts or chunks or mints or fudge or cookies or anything else. And keep your schmaltzy pedigreed, overpriced hooty-tooty labels, if that’s something you think necessary, because it is not. Best chocolate ice cream you ever want to taste is made in Tennessee and Georgia by a non-national company and I’m betting every section of the country has a local or regional ice-creamery delivering the real deal every bit as good. This is after all, the United States of America.
Now if you’re going to eat chocolate ice cream, eat chocolate ice cream. Do not scrimp. It is a scientifically proven fact that consuming two scoops of chocolate ice cream is no less fattening than eating four scoops. Do not be bashful when partaking.
Be warned, however. A third disaster visits the ice cream loving-community. Marketing meanness incarnate. Quart and a half containers. At about the cost of what it used to be for a half gallon. Horrors! It comes to the point that scooping from the container into a bowl is no longer necessary. A quart and a half container is almost single-serving size anyway. Just grab a spoon, the ice cream container and enjoy yourself. Albeit briefly.
What? Someone is saying, “Binge eating!”? Nonsense. Call it binge eating, or gluttony or whatever, I’m not embarrassed or bashful about it and I have no reservations. I hold my head high.
Now, I will admit, but only here and only one time. Once I had oral surgery and was dumb enough to let the dentist convince me to yank molars upper left and right and lower left at the same time. Something about getting through the pain all at once. It was, I believe more about saving on procaine and nitrous oxide while still charging for three extractions. Do the math there: that left the lower right jaw in working order, effectively eliminating chewing for three or four days. Oh, what happy days! (I thought.) I’ll eat nothing but chocolate ice cream until the store doesn’t have more!
If you guessed it took but a little while before I wanted no more chocolate ice cream, you are right. Three days later, I’d had all the chocolate ice cream I could stand. And the local mega-market still had some in stock. No more chocolate ice cream for me.
Yes, that lasted about a month before I regained my senses. I am back in shape and once again maintain that if you’re going to eat chocolate ice cream, and if you’re strangely (and unnaturally) inclined to have only two scoops, don’t bother.
© S P Wilcenski 2020