I love ice cream. You don’t even fucking know.
Let’s start again.
I really love ice cream.
One of the most ghetto but delicious snacks I created with my friend Ryan back in the day before all this chef stuff involved this ice cream above: Pralines and Cream from Baskin Robbins left out till slightly soft. Then we smushed it with Frosted Flakes and added ice ice ice cold milk. You know that stage right before it crystallizes? That type of ice cold.
We sprinkled some cubes of C&H sugar that we crushed with a razor blade like cocaine, then watched Soul Train.
There was also a place called Farrell’s back in the day which had something called “The Zoo”. It was an extravaganza. A gurney of ice cream paraded around with a marching band to your table. The size of a VW Bug with something like 64 scoops of ice cream and the kitchen sink.
I finished it clean!
I love milkshakes at casinos, where in Lake Tahoe I gained 20 pounds.
Hot fudge sundaes.
Haagen Daz pints over a movie on the couch.
Oh, and that pastry chef stuff once I got into cooking. The real deal stuff. I used to get caught at Le Bernardin daily in the pastry kitchen with my spoon in the ice cream like my pants around my ankles in someone’s daughter’s room, getting chased out by Florian Bollanger and Eric Ripert as I ran back to my station to cook vegetables.
Ice cream paint job.
On the run…