Teaberry Ice Cream - A Taste of Summer

Growing up in a small Appalachian town in central Pennsylvania during the 60s and early 70s, there were a couple of things that served as proof that the long, cold winter had passed and that we had several months of good weather ahead.

Lots of places had corn on the cob or lemonade, and the smell of suntan lotion was a universal olfactory experience, which for me was frequently followed by the obligatory sprays of Solarcaine to calm the sting sufficiently so that I would eventually drift off to sleep after fruitlessly searching for the cool side of my pillow while the fan ineffectively blew back and forth in my stifling bedroom.

But I had something else that to this day reminds me of summer - teaberry ice cream.

Image via Wikipedia

Teaberrys are small, shrub-grown fruits native to the Northeastern United States. They have an odd wintergreen-minty taste and odor . Most know little of Gaultheria procumbens except that Clark's became somewhat famous in the 1960s for marketing their teaberry chewing gum, which was pink and delicious and probably tasted little like a real teaberry.

Being able to head out to the seasonal ice cream stand by Bland's amusement park to have the first scoop of teaberry ice cream was like a rite of passage. Texas hot dogs and teaberry ice cream meant school was out, a life of leisure was upon me, and I had nothing more to do than scratch mosquito bites, swim and play in the creek (or crick as we pronounced it), and stay out past when the street lights came on. Bicycle rides, fishing at Reservoir Park, sleep-outs - pretty Norman Rockwell when I think about it.

Image by Meg Favreau

It's been ages since I've had teaberry ice cream. I think the last time was in the late 1990s, when I was back home right after my mother died. My wife, born in California, took one taste and made the universal "yuk" face, claiming that it reminded her of Pepto Bismol. Honey, just because something is a garish pink color and tastes of wintergreen doesn't mean it's Pepto Bismol, necessarily.

I know that with the Internet and an American Express card, I could have teaberry ice cream whenever I wanted, but that's not the point. FedEx can't bring the start of summer to my doorstep any more than they can transport me back to the warm recesses of my youth. But it's nice to remember.

Will my kids have something like that to reminisce about when they're approaching fifty? I don't know. But I think I'll ask them.

It must be summer - I want a banana split

Sitting out on the back deck tonight, watching Mrs. Skeptimist bury some tomato plants in one of those newfangled upside down hanging planters, a sudden craving surfaces.

I want a banana split.

Huh? What brought that on?

Perhaps I've been bitten by the bug of summer. At lunchtime, I motored over to the pharmacy with the windows down and sunroof open, my Fidel Castro hat perched on top of my baldness to ward off many-nomas. Having some time to waste, I popped into the local Kohl's and picked up two pairs of shorts, two sleeveless shirts, and a canvas belt for $50. Thanks, El Salvador!

For dinner, I grilled some Caesar-marinated chicken breasts, served with a side of roasted Yukon gold potatoes mixed with red/orange/yellow peppers and red onion. Lump charcoal is 1000x better than glue-infused charcoal dust briquettes. If you haven't yet switched to natural grilling, you should.

Shorts. Grilling. Planting. The rituals of warm weather.

So yeah. Banana split. Gonna have to get one this holiday weekend. It's more calories than I should have in an entire day, but summer only comes once a year. I'll have three months to sweat it out.

Good to see you, summer. I've been waiting a long time for you to reappear. Hug me like an old friend, one that I've known since childhood.

I only wish I could have the rush of excitement that comes from anticipating the last day of school. How perfect would that be?

Star Trek Undies, Anyone?

I don't remember these being around when I was a kid in the 60s, but it's entirely possible that they fall under the "massive amount of events I've repressed from my childhood" category.

It's too late for me now. And $75? C'mon, dude.

Dammit, Jim! I'm a boxer-brief man!

Highly Questionable: Retro Star Trek Drawers , via Geekologie

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