Ice cream is delicious. Cold, smooth, texture, slip through my teeth and chill the roof of my mouth. Freezing my nose until it hurts. Flavor that slides down my throat and provides a delight that cools and warms and satisfies. Mint and chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, peanut butter, caramel, and chocolate syrup, chocolate sauce, chocolate shell, mixing and swirling and melting and cooling. Ice cream "hits the spot," an undefined place somewhere between my stomach and my heart, warm and savory and homey. Hand to mouth, bowl to spoon to tongue, scoop it up and around and down, and then again. Feel it, taste it, smell the cold radiating from the gooey mess. Carve through the rounded cream, the icy flakes. Find in their crystals solace, comfort, reassurance that it will be okay, that it is okay, that the ice cream will see you through, chill the pain, dull the ache, a cold compress to the wound that life, that friends, that a boy has disappointed you.
My friend Kellianne worked at Coldstone during high school. On afternoons when we knew she would be there, Natalie and I (and sometimes Manda and Shelly) would drive down to the store and get two "Gotta Have It"- sized bowls of Coldstone Creamery Ice Cream. I don't know why Coldstone tastes so good. The texture is creamy and smooth, and the consistency is thicker than regular grocery store ice cream. We always ordered minor variations on the same two kinds of ice cream. The first, Sweet Cream or Irish Cream with a brownie and caramel sauce. If we were feeling extra decadent, we would add chocolate fudge for another $.49. The second was a sorbet, usually Raspberry or Lemon, with real fruit in it, strawberries or raspberries. The lighter fruit balanced out the richness of the brownie/caramel/cream goodness. Kellianne was always happy to see us and we were more than happy to see her, especially because she usually gave us extra toppings "on accident."
I had a roommate named JaNae my freshman year of college who got a job at Coldstone, but she didn't give us extra toppings. That was okay, though. Going to see her was an excellent reason for going frequently. Natalie and I were roommates, and we still got those same two kinds of ice cream. Sometimes we'd try a new flavor of ice cream or a new combination of ice cream and toppings, but most often, we chose our standard favorites. When I broke up with Scott that first semester, I went to see her at Coldstone the next day to get my own "Gotta Have It" bowl. It was a consolation prize, a "I did something hard and now I get to reward myself" bowl of ice cream. I wasn't really wallowing at that point. I got the Raspberry Sorbet with raspberries added in. I ate some of it then, but it wasn't until later that night, after I had gone to a dance and realized that I was alone, realized that I was hurt and sad and angry, that I finished the whole bowl. By myself. I curled up on our ugly student housing couch in my pajamas, bowl in one hand and spoon in the other and cried as I watched Hillary Duff's "A Cinderella Story." It was a pathetic moment, but the ice cream was my only witness. It was there for me, soothing my tears and fears and not judging me.
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Jealous over here--big fan of Cold Stone. I would like to see more specific moments that revolve around ice cream--what does it mean to you personally. Ice cream is great but it's also pretty generic, so I wonder about ways you can make it more interesting.
ReplyDeleteI LOVE ICE CREAM! It is my favorite food and people always tell me that can't be, 'cuz it's not technically a food. Whatever.
ReplyDeleteThis is such a different piece from you, Kate. Well the first paragraph particularly. I love this form of stream-of-consciousness writing here, and although very descriptive and lyrical, there is a lot of meaning and feeling behind it. Nice!
I like how the ice cream is personified in the end, sitting and comforting you, and only listening, not talking back.
i loved the first paragraph, it's only 8 am and i'm heading to the fridge for a bowl!
ReplyDeleteliked how you told a story, at least a little, about the break up and used the ice cream to do so.
savory might not work (means seasoned without sweetness).
finally, like 'awkward' in your midterm, i think you could drop the phrase "It was a pathetic moment, but ..." because you are showing us so well. However, i absolutely love the line: "The ice cream was my only witness."
Kate... you just named my favorite things... cinderella story and coldstone! Not pathetic. Perfect bliss!
ReplyDeleteI like the stream of consciousness of the first paragraph. I want to hear more on the idea of comfort food. What that really means.
ReplyDeleteI think I might be the only one who's not in love with ice cream. It makes me phlegmy and makes my stomach hurt... :-)