https://www.benjerry.com/flavors/americone-dream-ice-cream

I couldn’t stop eating it.

I know Ben & Jerry’s is caught up in a political kerfuffle, I know Ben & Jerry don’t run the company anymore, that actually it’s part of Unilever, which squeezed Ben & Jerry to sell just like Amazon did to diapers.com, but that does not mean I’ve stopped eating the ice cream.

Ice cream… There was always plenty in our household. And it was not the three-flavored Neapolitan. You’d go to someone’s house and they’d serve you vanilla, if they had anything at all, and all I can say is UGH!

Then again, I’ve come to treasure vanilla. Once I had the super premium version of it. The breakthrough came in the the mid-seventies, with the arrival of Häagen-Dazs, which opened a dip shop on Barrington Avenue in Brentwood that we went to seemingly every night. I remember that summer walking in the fading sunlight and heat the three blocks back to the apartment eating chocolate chocolate chip and smiling, those were the good old days. When super-premium ice cream exploded.

Of course there was Frusen Glädjé, available in stores just like HD but in slightly better plastic packaging, but the king became Robin Rose, in Venice, they had RASPBERRY CHOCOLATE CHIP ICE CREAM! Now that was a treat. But then frozen yogurt came along and killed the whole paradigm, never mind that frozen yogurt is not the diet dessert it was billed as, never mind that no frozen yogurt can compare to ice cream. There’s this place on Olympic, at the intersection of Westwood Boulevard, named the Bigg Chill, that serves the best frozen yogurt I’ve ever had, and unlike most frozen yogurt shops it still exists, but it’s still not ice cream.

So my father found locations for Friendly’s. You’ve got to know in the sixties, Friendly’s was considered not only upscale ice cream, but an upscale hamburger place. They had the Big Beef, which was a thick hamburger long before the Mickey D’s Quarter Pounder that was stuck between two pieces of toast as opposed to a bun, and the meat even oozed blood, back before people thought that burger meat was naturally gray, and it was SCRUMPTIOUS! And of course there was the Fribble. Previously called the Awful Awful, as in Awful big and Awful good, they had to change the name when sued by its originator but in any event, it was the best milkshake you could buy, it was thick, it had a lot of ICE CREAM! But this was before Friendly’s was sold so many times as to ultimately become a joke and nearly disappear.

So my father would bring home half-gallons. He’d go to HQ in Wilbraham, Mass., or be at a store, and he’d come home with three or four. Never ever vanilla, my absolute favorite was chocolate marshmallow, and then there was toasted almond fudge. We never ran out, and you could have as much as you wanted. Kids would come over and it would blow their minds. We’d get big bowls and load them up. There were rarely toppings, the ice cream stood on its own.

Not that my father was only loyal to Friendly’s, he loved, loved, LOVED Carvel. He’d take us to downtown Fairfield on a hot night and we’d get it, and also during the winter. Dairy Queen would close during the winter, but not Carvel! At least I don’t remember it so. Then again, I was so high on sugar who knows!

In the seventies, Baskin-Robbins appeared. And despite its ugly color scheme of pink, brown and white, which I just found out represented cherries, hot fudge and whipped cream, their ice cream was quite good. And they pushed the envelope of the Friendly’s paradigm, the flavors had many elements, they were outrageous. And some you had to get right away, because they’d go on vacation, others would always be available, thank god.

But then BR was superseded by HD, which was then superseded by Ben & Jerry’s.

Ben & Jerry’s was…Ben & Jerry. Two Jewish dudes who couldn’t do anything else who learned to make ice cream via a correspondence course and then opened a dip shop in Burlington, Vermont which then expanded into an empire. The factory is still in Waterbury, on the way to Stowe, and it’s one of Vermont’s top tourist sites. I remember going there in the eighties when they lowered a bucket down to the factory floor and brought up some not quite frozen butter pecan and I’ve loved it ever since, whereas I never wasted my bites on the flavor before.

So, the breakthrough Ben & Jerry’s flavor was Cherry Garcia. And it’s okay, but far from my favorite. I prefer Phish Food, which is now my number one even though for a while there I was hooked on Chunky Monkey. Phish Food, first and foremost, is CHOCOLATE ice cream, the king of flavors, nothing else comes close. And then there’s that treasured marshmallow. As for the caramel, I used to say I could take or leave it, but it’s grown on me, I’ve always loved hot fudge more than caramel, and still do. But the piece-de-resistance is the chocolate fish. Every bite of Phish Food is an adventure.

And even though Felice got hooked on Pistachio Nut, which is simple yet delectable, she started buying Phish Food again and I couldn’t resist. I try to resist, I’m trying to live beyond tomorrow, but sometimes I just can’t hold back.

Like tonight.

I didn’t need it, but I wanted it. I DESERVED IT! I’m still quarantined, I found out this week I still have no B-cells, and I’m home alone in the house when everybody else is at the beach so I opened the freezer to find…AMERICONE DREAM? Huh? Why did Felice buy that?

Oh, there was a tiny bit of Phish Food left, and ultimately I ate some of that, left a chunk for Felice, but first I broke off the plastic seal and dove into Americone Dream.

Stephen Colbert’s picture was on the outside. Why? I couldn’t see a direct connection between the comedian and an ice cream flavor. And then I read the description…”Vanilla Ice Cream with Fudge-Covered Waffle Cone Pieces and a Caramel Swirl.”

Sounded kind of boring to me. I mean I dig the caramel now, but that’s just an added flavor, almost the equivalent of MSG. And vanilla? Well, new vanilla is better than old vanilla, but I still wasn’t excited. As for the fudge-covered waffle cone pieces? Yada, yada, who cares.

Waffle cones. Were unknown as a kid. Sugar cones were thick and crunchy, but we preferred the foam rubber Dairy Queen ones. And as I aged I understood sugar cones, but for me it’s really about the ice cream, when super-premium came in, just serving it in a cup was good enough.

But then came the high-end waffle cones. The ones baked in the shop. Sometimes covered in chocolate. You didn’t even need any ice cream to enjoy them. Then again, were they made fresh or had they been sitting around? The fresh ones always killed. The pre-made ones? Too firm, nothing exciting. Like I said, I’m a cup man.

But I dipped my spoon into the pint, which appeared almost all white except for some brown land mines, and I raised my spoon to my lips and partook…WOW! You see those mini-crunchy waffle cone pieces had exactly the right firmness, they didn’t immediately squash and crumble like the foam rubber of Dairy Queen cones, yet despite being encased in pre-frozen ice cream, they were not rock hard, they had a crunch, but there was no risk to your teeth.

And then there was that caramel…

Well, I decided I’d only work my way around the top, leave most of the pint for Felice, who’d ordered it after all. But another key to super-premium ice cream is what Häagen-Dazs refers to as the “bouquet.” The truth is you’re not supposed to eat super-premium right out of the freezer, you’re supposed to let it soften, in order to have the flavors released. And this is true! But oftentimes I can’t wait. But as one eats, the edges of the pint start to soften and you can’t let those go, you’ve got to scoop them up with your spoon, to refreeze them would be a crime.

Of course I could put the pint in the microwave. My father was the first person I saw do this. He’d be in the kitchen, standing in front of the microwave constantly cooking up the ice cream five or ten seconds at a time, to get the right softness, to release the flavor. And I’ve tried this, but I can never get the timing right, it’s easy to turn the ice cream into soup, not that I won’t drink ice cream soup.

And after eating the corners…well, I couldn’t stop there. I needed another hit of that fudge-encased waffle cone.

And then I was on a high. You know the feeling, when you feel so damn good you don’t care what the consequences are. Orgasm passes briefly, and even though it’s the peak human experience, others not quite as good can last longer, like eating ice cream.

And I’m sitting at the kitchen table, looking out at the darkening sky, thinking how the summer is fading and I’ve missed it, and I keep spooning up Americone Dream and all is right in the world. I don’t care if someone is vaccinated or not, I don’t care about 1/6, it’s all about me and the environment, I’m in harmony with nature.

Well, at least in harmony with Americone Dream.

How did this happen? Who knew such excitement and satisfaction was contained in this pint I was pooh-poohing? How’d they manage to keep the cone part fresh? And since it’s Ben & Jerry’s, it’s not like Cracker Jack, there isn’t only one prize, the mix-ins are big and plentiful, you get something with almost every bite, it’s so SATISFYING!

Eating Americone Dream was the best thing I did all day. IT WAS WORTH IT!