Flying Dutchman

Of all the things to be missing down here at the bottom of South America, Allen is seriously longing for …… ice cream.

It’s winter down here. It’s cold, windy, rain, snowy and dark — and Allen is missing ice cream.

At home, he eats ice cream on a daily basis — and the freezer section of his fridge always has one of those gallon-sized tubs of Tillamook vanilla ice cream as well as an assortment of smaller tubs of various flavors of Ben & Jerry’s, Haagen-Daaz, and whatever.

I’m almost as bad. My wife used to like to tease me when I took evening naps in the living room next to the kitchen. She’d open the freezer door and hold it open for a couple of seconds before closing it firmly with a thunk loud enough to be heard in the next room — and which never failed to wake me up with a start. She liked to do it when she had girlfriends over — after which they would laugh and compare me with the cat that gets excited at the sound of a can being opened.

We can’t understand Alene. She hardly ever eats ice cream. She jokes that it’s because she no longer has a husband who keeps buying it — and that the opening and closing of the freezer door triggered the same response in him. But actually, she stopped buying ice cream when she ended up living a thirty-minute walk from the nearest grocery store — and let ice cream be a treat when she’s out. However, she rarely treats herself to ice cream — just once or twice in a summer — and once went three years without eating any at all.

She does remember a rather interesting ice cream treat from her previous life back east. It’s called a Flying Dutchman — and consists of four scoops of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream in a pint glass with four shots of espresso poured over. Allen really likes the sound of that — and suggests a couple of shots of bourbon or rum to round it out nicely.

Well, we will have some hot chocolate spiked with rum and try to forget about ice cream. Besides, Shackleton’s party probably had glorious fantasies of hot chocolate with rum. They had to make do with the weekly Sunday night treat of hot water with ginger and methylated spirits.


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