Bakotopia

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I love ice cream! It is one of the hardest things for me to give up when dieting. My favorite flavor is chocolate and I prefer eating an ice cream cone to a scoop in a bowl.

I so much enjoy the whole process involved in eating an ice cream cone-- licking the giant scoop of ice cream that hangs over the cone into a perfect symmetrical ball of ice cream, keeping the sides of the ice cream scoop licked so that it doesn’t melt and drip all over the place, and eating the ice cream filled and slightly soggy cone after the giant scoop of ice cream has been finished. An ice cream cone has a whole child-like feeling to it that a boring scoop of ice cream in a bowl does not have. (I can get a boring scoop of ice cream in a bowl at home!) It’s not just an ice cream cone; it’s an ice cream cone experience.

Last night I went with a couple friends to Rosemary’s Creamery to get some ice cream.

“A chocolate ice cream cone.” I ordered from the waiter.

“One scoop” He asked.

“Yes.” I answered.

“Plain or sugar cone?” He asked.

“Plain.” I replied.

My friends placed their ice cream orders and the waiter left. I was the only one that had ordered an ice cream cone.

When our order arrived the waiter sat a bowl of chocolate ice cream including a spoon with a plain cone sticking out upside down on top of the scoop of ice cream as if it was an after thought.

What the f**k is this! I thought frowning.

I examined what was supposed to be my chocolate ice cream cone and tried to scoop the ice cream up onto the cone and out of the offending bowl. However, that was not going to work since the ice cream had not been packed into the cone.

“This is not an ice cream cone!” I said disgusted and pouting just like a child would.

This is a boring scoop of ice cream in a bowl that wants to be an ice cream cone, but isn’t. I thought to myself.

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