There are few things in the world that I love more than homemade ice cream. Growing up it was often eaten poolside during the summer, at Grandma’s house, out of a styrofoam bowl with a plastic spoon. If I recall correctly, we usually made one batch of vanilla and one of banana. I mostly remember the banana. My four cousins, brother, and I would line up and be served “scoops” of ice cream right out of the stainless steel canister. I put scoops in parentheses because ice cream in that state doesn’t have a very solid form. We ate it fresh, and most likely none of it ever saw the freezer. Continue reading
As I plodded through my “Foundations of Education” textbook this afternoon, reading about the Sophists and Socrates and Plato and Aristotle and all of their different approaches to education, my mind wandered. I was 30 minutes away from being done for the day, but my mind was obviously ready to get a head start on the weekend.
First it (my mind) wandered to chocolate. (Obviously.) From there it wandered to ice cream. (Nothing new here.) Following a highly logical pattern, it wandered to chocolate cookies in vanilla ice cream. Cookies and cream! Continue reading