Writing prompts are funny things. They can dredge up the old and new all in one giant scoop of metaphorical ice cream.
As the teacher read the book excerpt, I thought of how I'm trying to break the ice cream habit at our house—to no avail. I thought about how much I have always loved ice cream. And I also thought about the banana nut ice cream my parents used to make in our old wooden ice cream maker on random occasions.
It was always at nighttime for some reason, like we couldn't ever go on a whim of ice cream making until the sun went down or something. It probably added to the excitement though. Dark outside, the rock salt being placed on the countertop, then the ice cream maker pulled out from the pantry or under the sink or wherever it got left from the last time we made ice cream—all of these things meant we would be making banana nut ice cream. I am not sure, but I think we may have done strawberry ice cream once or twice when we had a mother lode of leftover Santa Maria strawberries from a summer haul. But seriously, most of the time, if that ice cream maker was cranking out something, it was going to crank out the best banana nut ice cream on the planet.
Mom went through a phase where we bought raw milk from a neighbor instead of from the store, so she'd take off the cream skimmings and save them up in the freezer. And once we had enough to make ice cream, we made ice cream. I have to say I sort of hated how the raw milk had swirls of cream in it, but I'm thinking it was probably the best tasting milk I ever had. And that ice cream. Just wow.
So back to the whole banana nut part. I'm pretty sure we always had banana nut ice cream because it was Dad's favorite. There were little things here and there my mother would do to make life happy for him, and steak dinners from time to time, homemade divinity and peanut brittle at Christmas, and that banana nut ice cream were a few of them.
Since he grew up so poor, food was a big deal to him. Good food. Fresh food. LOTS of food. And even lots of junk food and treats. We went through a time, several years actually, when we were without much money at all, but he always made sure we had food to eat.
As the teacher read the book excerpt, I thought of how I'm trying to break the ice cream habit at our house—to no avail. I thought about how much I have always loved ice cream. And I also thought about the banana nut ice cream my parents used to make in our old wooden ice cream maker on random occasions.
It was always at nighttime for some reason, like we couldn't ever go on a whim of ice cream making until the sun went down or something. It probably added to the excitement though. Dark outside, the rock salt being placed on the countertop, then the ice cream maker pulled out from the pantry or under the sink or wherever it got left from the last time we made ice cream—all of these things meant we would be making banana nut ice cream. I am not sure, but I think we may have done strawberry ice cream once or twice when we had a mother lode of leftover Santa Maria strawberries from a summer haul. But seriously, most of the time, if that ice cream maker was cranking out something, it was going to crank out the best banana nut ice cream on the planet.
Mom went through a phase where we bought raw milk from a neighbor instead of from the store, so she'd take off the cream skimmings and save them up in the freezer. And once we had enough to make ice cream, we made ice cream. I have to say I sort of hated how the raw milk had swirls of cream in it, but I'm thinking it was probably the best tasting milk I ever had. And that ice cream. Just wow.
So back to the whole banana nut part. I'm pretty sure we always had banana nut ice cream because it was Dad's favorite. There were little things here and there my mother would do to make life happy for him, and steak dinners from time to time, homemade divinity and peanut brittle at Christmas, and that banana nut ice cream were a few of them.
Since he grew up so poor, food was a big deal to him. Good food. Fresh food. LOTS of food. And even lots of junk food and treats. We went through a time, several years actually, when we were without much money at all, but he always made sure we had food to eat.
Kicking an ice cream habit sounds terrifyingly impossible to me, but I applaud the desire to try. I also applaud your beautiful thoughts on the memories we attach to food. In my family, food means an invitation to our table, an invitation to our lives, an invitation to a conversation, an invitation to love. Your post reminded me of that. Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteYou had me at banana nut ice cream.
ReplyDelete