Bob Bridge I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! Back before Dairy Queens and Jiffy Treets freckled the landscape, those seeking the frosty refreshment of frozen, flavorful desserts whirled up their own sugary, after-dinner delights. It was a family affair of sorts. Mom and Becky would rustle up the ingredients for the secret recipe and carefully place them into the metal canister. Dad and I were designated churners. We knocked the dust off the old wooden ice- cream maker and made sure we had ample portions of rock salt and crushed ice. Once the canister was lowered into the wooden tub, the cranking commenced. We usually rotated every five minutes. It wasn’t the most challenging chore, but I was relieved when Dad declared, “Enough!” Mom blended in our favorite fruit to make the dessert downright delectable. I could never decide which flavor I preferred most. You can never go wrong with berries. I appreciated all of them, from the straw to the rasp. But, if I had to choose one fruit to supplement my homemade ice cream, it would be the freshly picked peach. When Mom would ask how I liked it, I’d grin and retort, “It’s peachy keen!” The last few days, when the temperature threatened to eclipse 100, I dreamed of homemade ice cream and that cherished antique wooden churn. I’m not sure where it is now, but I’m positive it earned its retirement by generating so many smiles of satisfaction. Next to the fireside popcorn popper, it was the most glorious culinary gadget ever designed. Bob Bridge welcomes comments at 812-276-9646 or firstname.lastname@example.org.
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