Ice cream

One of the things that is notable about Boston is the ice cream shops. There is the occasional Cold Stone or Ben and Jerry's, but for the most part they are local chains or individual shops. People tend to have strong opinions of which one is the best and which flavors one should get at any of the particular shops. Jason and I just got back from a walk up to the Square and there was a line out the door of the JP Licks ice cream shop. (There was a power outage which may have gotten a few extra people out of their houses, but I do no think that there would have been that many fewer people even if there had not been.) It does not seem to matter the time of day. As the temperature was creeping up on Monday evening when I was walking back from the T, it seemed that everyone that I walked by had an ice cream cone.

Yesterday all of the terrible things that people say about Boston summer arrived-- heat, humidity, mugginess-- blech. As I stumbled out of bed this morning and into clothes to ride to the office, I promised myself if I rode my bike in I could stop at Chrstina's on the way home. All day long I had been thinking about getting ice cream. At the end of the day, I negotiated my way through the pedestrian traffic (which I have decided is far more aggravating than the car traffic in Cambridge) up to Christina's. There was a sign in the window that they had fresh rose ice cream. (Excellent-- I had been hoping for that.) The big decision was what would the second scoop be? I wanted to get something that would complement the rose, but nothing too heavy. I decided on the jackfruit sorbet (hints of orange, pear, and pineapple, or that is what I taste at least). There would be other nights for the super mocha, chocolate banana, and ginger molasses.

There was plenty of people watching while I was eating my ice cream. There were the four people at the table closest to the door in their business suits, one brave enough to get a cone. There were the people walking in the door looking at the list of ice creams which change regularly. Some people were clearly regulars, walking up to the counter without looking. Others were more like me, much more careful in their choices. There was one little girl who looked to be about 3 years old. She was still blissfully unaware of the effects of gravity on ice cream in a cone on a warm day. As she waved the cone back and forth in one hand, her father suggested that he hold the cone while she sat down and that she was not allowed to put it on the table. There was never a line out the door, but the shop was continually busy the entire time that I was there.

Tonight I was saying to Jason that there would not be nearly enough time to eat all of the places that we need to eat. There is the new grill as well that needs to get used. (The Minimalist is brilliant again -- go to the NYT and find his article on burgers. Again, it is a wonderful, simple food made even better.) We have reservations at Hammersley's, the cool place to eat in the South End. We will report on the weekend and the food next week.