two scoops

My Grandma used to put surprises at the bottom of our ice cream cones. My sister and I would leave the kitchen, and wait in the hallway with the green carpet. We'd hunt for treasures in the floor-to-ceiling shelves full of collectibles from Berlin and Switzerland, jingling the swiss cow bells and flipping the tops of the German steins, as we eagerly awaited the mystery.

We'd sit at the kitchen table, our six and seven year-old tongues licking the vanilla ice cream and nibbling the cone until we reached the tip. The last bite would be filled of vanilla ice cream dribble and Skittles. Or peanuts. Or chocolate chips. A milky-white grin would appear on our faces, and, if it was a Skittles surprise, the milky-white would turn a variable rainbow as it dripped down our chins.

Last week, I told myself that I would stop eating ice cream. Well, at least in such large quantities. This was quite the declaration, as I eat ice cream all too often. But, I scoop in honor of my Grandpa. In honor, and because, well, I just can't help it. It's part of my genetic make up. Like my squinty eyes and my love of architecture and design, I inherited Grandpa's penchant for all things creamy and frozen. The man ate a hearty bowl every single night.

One of the few pictures I have of him was taken after a Saturday spent in the yard. He's sitting on the patio, the Saturday twilight shining on his silvery hair. A yellow napkin is stuffed down his work shirt. Directly in front of him is a heaping bowl of ice cream, which, thanks to Grandma, is festively bedecked with summer strawberries. Spoon in hand, he's staring out of the photo with his soft smile, ready to dig in as soon as Grandma's flash goes off.

Grandpa designed the Snelgrove's ice cream shop on 2100 South in Salt Lake. The one with the iconic big rotating double-scoop cone. Seems all too fitting. Eating Snelgrove's in our family was/is an occasion - when we were little, it was a reward for a ballet or violin performance. And when we were with Aunt Elizabeth, we'd go to Snelgrove's just because it was Wednesday. Many a milky-white grins were wiped away in that ice cream parlor. And now, it's closing. Forever.

With such sad news, Mom has stocked the freezer with Snelgrove's galore. Chocolate chip cookie dough, Strawberry, pralines and cream and Canadian chocolate. However, the downside of this (as if there is one - a freezer full of ice cream is pretty amazing) is that there's no burnt almond fudge to be found. Trust me. We've looked. The other night I went so far as to smash some almonds and mix them into my bowl of Canadian chocolate. Don't bother. You'll waste perfectly good almonds. Save yourself the disappointment. And let your almonds live on...whole.

After dinner at my parent's tonight, I pulled open the freezer drawer, well aware of the treasure trove inside. So many choices! Tonights combo: chocolate chip cookie dough and Canadian chocolate. There was one tiny problem. I've been freezing all day. All morning. All through church. Through dinner, too. But, I wasn't going to let that deter me from my mission. I put two sizable scoops into a bowl. Thanks to my parent's chilly house, my hands were literally shaking as I took hold of the bowl. Fleeting are the moments with my beloved Snelgrove's, so there was no time to waste! I dug right in, thinking of Grandpa. The chills got the better of me after a few spoonfuls. Being the innovative slash experienced ice cream veteran that I am, I came up with an ingenious idea.

I sallied forth with my scoops, and up the stairs I went. I turned on the bath. Rolling up my pant legs, I put one foot in at a time, steadying my soon-to-be-devoured dessert on the side of the tub. Talk about the best of both worlds - toasty toes and the Snelgrove's experience, all at once. I can' t think of a better way to end an evening. Except, perhaps, with Grandpa on the patio at twilight eating vanilla and strawberries. He used to say that there's Snelgrove's in heaven. I'm pretty sure he's right. And, there will most definitely be an eternal supply of burnt almond fudge. Snelgrove's, rest in peace. Until we meet again in that glorious ice cream parlor in the sky!