For the Love of Ice Cream

July is officially National Ice Cream Month. Until this week, I never knew such a month existed. But what could be more newsworthy? Most folks are familiar with the well-known phrase, I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.”  In reality, this isn’t a famous quotation, rather it’s a song title and lyrics written and first published in the late 1920’s by Billy Moll, Robert King and Howard Johnson. “It was recorded by Walter Williams and Waring’s Pennsylvanians,” states the Website www.culinarylore.com. “This song became a Dixieland Jazz standard, and was favored by such important outfits as the Preservation Hall Jazz Band of New Orleans.” Some sources erroneously credit Woody Allen with composing this tune. The reason is that he used it on the soundtrack of his 1973 movie Sleeper, but “…none of the actual songwriters are mentioned in the credits.”(www.culinarylore.com)

Why is ice cream so important? If you ask many individuals, especially those of the female gender, it’s way up on their list of most desirable comfort foods. In the article, “5 Reasons Why We Crave Comfort Foods,” from Psychology Today by Shahram Heshmat Ph.D., “Comfort foods are typically energy-dense, high fat and sweet, such as chocolate, ice cream, and French fries.” There’s a reason we crave these kinds of foods when we are feeling down, low-energy, or have been dumped by a significant other. “They give distinctive pleasure or make us temporarily feel better,” writes Dr. Heshmat. “Highly palatable foods activate the same brain regions of reward and pleasure that are active in drug addiction.”

This isn’t good news, because in our nation, obesity is at an all-time high. If occasional cravings turn into a routine, the scales can reflect this lifestyle. Something as seemingly harmless as a Turtle Sundae could cause gradual weight gain, if you indulge in one three times a week for years like a friend of mine did. Said friend has to remain anonymous for obvious reasons, but by cutting back her sundae habit she lost quite a few pounds almost effortlessly. Still, this should not negate the delight that can be derived from eating an occasional ice cream treat.

Apparently, ice cream became such a popular part of American culture that “President Ronald Reagan designated July as National Ice Cream Month with the third Sunday of the month being National Ice Cream Day” according to www.nationaldaycalendar.com.

People have been eating ice cream for centuries. “Nero of Rome was said to have enjoyed harvesting ice or snow, then flavoring it with honey or other flavorings,” also reports www.nationaldaycalendar.com. “In the summer of 1790, George Washington spent approximately $200 for ice cream…Thomas Jefferson actually made his own recipe of ice cream, too.” As for ice cream’s origin, “The Chinese are generally credited for creating the first ice creams, possibly as early as 3000 B.C.,” proposes www.foodtimeline.org. Another BBC news Website states that, “An ice-cream-like food was first eaten in China in 618-97AD.”

Honestly, who cares who first invented the incredibly tasty stuff? Most Americans are just grateful it’s been a part of our history for as long as we can remember. Personally, as a little girl it was thrilling to go for ice cream and select a chocolate cone from the countless choices. I could never understand why people ordered Butter Pecan, Black Cherry, Orange Sherbet, and on and on, when they could have chocolate. Today, I’m a much more sophisticated connoisseur with my favorite flavors expanding to include: Sea Salt Caramel, Rocky Road, Cookies and Cream, Turtle, Moose Tracks, etc.

When we were first married over fifteen years ago, my sweet husband would bring home a half gallon of one of my favorites. He thought I would be pleased, and was surprised when I told him that it was too tempting to keep ice cream in the freezer. I am not proud of the amount of ice cream that I can consume when craving comfort food. This confused him, because the poor man mentioned how he had come home on more than one occasion and found me eating ice cream, while watching a movie. Guilty as charged, but it was a chick flick, I’m sure. A girl can’t possibly watch a sappy romantic movie without a Hot Fudge sundae. As the famous song’s lyrics also say, “…Tuesdays, Mondays, we all scream for sundaes, Sis-boom-bah!”

There’s more, but I think I hear the sound of an Ice Cream truck in the distance.

Christina Ryan Claypool is a freelance journalist and inspirational speaker. Contact her through her Website at www.christinaryanclaypool.com. Her first novel, Secrets of the Pastor’s Wife will be released this fall. 

Warning: Valentine’s Day is on the Way!

With St. Valentine’s Day rapidly approaching, I find myself confident that I won’t be forgotten. Being a hopeless romantic and having spent years of Valentine’s days alone, I know firsthand what it is like to not have any expectations for the holiday. But for a dozen years, I’ve been married to a man who wouldn’t think of forgetting.

Still for over a decade as a single mom, I knew that no bouquet of flowers or balloons, or even a card bearing my name would arrive. Back then, I worked as a reporter at WTLW TV 44. With a videographer’s assistance, I went out into the community and did a “Man on the street” investigating what Valentine’s Day meant to other people.

One 90-year-old gentleman I polled proudly told me that he would definitely have a surprise in store for his wife. When I asked him if he had ever forgotten the day dedicated to lovers, a grim look crossed his countenance. With the camera rolling, he replied hesitantly, “I don’t think I better talk about that.” So he had forgotten once.  I could tell it had been such a painful experience that it had never happened again. After all, a woman scorned can be a formidable foe.

Anyway, other folks freely told me about the cards, chocolates, roses, and teddy bears that they were planning to present to their beloved. Although one honest young man revealed that he couldn’t remember the last time he had received a Valentine’s Day card. The fact that he look like a ski model from the cover of GQ soothed my own wounded ego back then.

My quest for more information about Valentine’s Day led me to investigate its history. There are conflicting stories about the day’s origin. The one that I like the best deals with St. Valentine as a third century priest. At the time, Emperor Claudius II decreed that marriage be outlawed, deciding that single men made the best soldiers. The History Channel website reports that, “Valentine realizing the injustice of the decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret.  When Valentine’s actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.”

The demise of Valentine was as melodramatic as any opera one could attend. Coincidently, a decade ago on Valentine’s Day, I surprised my spouse with opera tickets. This was a real sacrifice, because opera is his love, not mine. Still, I thought that I would never outdo the display of undying affection that I assumed my hubby must have planned, since we were still almost newlyweds.

When that fated Valentine’s Day dawned, I awoke with the expectation of a kid on Christmas morning. Despite the fact, there was no breakfast in bed, or even a rose anywhere in sight, I excitedly guessed it was only a matter of time before I would be presented with some token of his enduring love. That Saturday passed quickly in chores, errands, and general weekend routine. By late afternoon, I began to get suspicious that the love of my life might have forgotten. However, being married less than two years I rationalized away that ridiculous fear.

Finally in the car on the way to the opera, Larry confessed that he had overlooked the arrival of Valentine’s Day. Being a bachelor all his life, he tried to find a good excuse for his lapse, but none of them were working. Needless to say, it was a rather subdued evening after that.

Yet when we returned home, there was a small bag hanging on our front door. Inside was a beautiful Valentine’s Day card with a silver bracelet bearing one heart charm. There was also a note from my husband’s best buddy explaining that Larry must have accidentally left these items at his house on an earlier visit.

Sounds too good to be true? It was. Something about the card just didn’t seem right. So being a former investigative reporter, I simply asked, “Did you buy me these things?”

Larry’s honest character caused him to immediately blurt out, “I called my friend right before we left for the opera, and told him I needed help.” All I could do was laugh, because I knew that in the future my hubby would understand even “old married” couples should celebrate the gift of love. I guess people like me are born hopelessly romantic, while others become romantic desperate for survival. No matter what kind of romantic you are, Happy Valentine’s Day!