I love ice cream to such an intense degree that I feel the need to make a different post about each particular flavor, and today I had myself a big ol' bowl of cookies & cream. It felt appropriate since the temperature has passed the century mark for the last day or two here in Portlandia, which seems a good enough reason to indulge in a big ol' bowl of ice cream, although let's be honest, any reason is usually a good enough reason to eat ice cream for me. I feel like cookies & cream is one of those classic flavors that gets forgotten a lot, in favor of flashier varieties like oh, say, any crazy flavor combo by Ben & Jerry's or some ridiculous combo from Coldstone, etc. etc. And then one day you decide to have a bowl of your regular ol' cookies & cream, or let's say maybe some butter pecan, and you realize, Holy crap, this is quite good.
Maybe I just view flavors like cookies & cream and butter pecan as classic flavors because they seemed to be ones which were frequently found in the freezer of my grandparents' house. Every Sunday of my childhood found my siblings and I having a big lunch, or 'supper' at my grandparents' house after church. The meals were always full of mashed potatoes laden with cheese and butter and some type of vegetable also laden with cheese and butter, along with some hearty variety of meat, and usually some of my grandma's 'cabbage salad,' otherwise known as coleslaw. But at Sunday supper it was always called cabbage salad, and I loved the crap out of that stuff. Maybe there was something different about it because of our family's loyalty to Miracle Whip instead of mayonnaise at all times, but whatever it was, it was better than coleslaw. After this ridiculous gorging every week, my grandpa at the head of the table would lean back in his chair while my grandma started clearing the dishes and say, "Hm, girls, well I think there might be something in the freezer downstairs," and my sister and I would run down the stairs to their basement, where there was a huge honking storage freezer right at the bottom of the stairs. We'd lift up the lid and try to decide between the three or four cartons of ice cream which lay before us. There would also be some additional ice cream cartons in the freezer of the regular fridge upstairs in the kitchen, too - my grandparents weren't one to take their chances of an ice cream shortage - but there was always something special about the routine of going down to the basement freezer, pondering how many different kinds there would be in there that day. And a lot of the times, there'd be butter pecan, or tin roof sundae, or good ol' cookies & cream.