I feel a little guilty, a little self-conscious, posting an image of a summer hamburger/ice cream shop as the header for this new blog. However, even though I eat healthier than lots of people, I love ice cream. There. It’s out there, and even though the students in my Advanced Composition class and I will be posting thoughts, opinions, interviews and narratives in the coming months about many serious questions related to food, I think it’s ok to begin with the explanation of a connection to one of life’s simple pleasures.
My favorite ice cream memory: a cycling friend and I finished riding a 375-mile route in southern Jersey on almost no sleep in about 38 hours, finishing in Cranbury, NJ. Anyone who knows this tiny town is familiar with the wonderful ice cream shop that opens in season. We finished our ride that day just as the shop was opening. Getting off of our bikes, we stood in front of the window, exhausted but gleefully aware that we could order anything we wanted and eat it without a dollop of guilt. And we did. Two large scoops each of frozen deliciousness. Sitting on the bench in front of the shop, we leaned back, enjoying the comfort of being on something larger than a bike seat, and slowly, relishing every lick, we ate our ice cream. Every last drop.