Spring song: We all scream for dulce de leche

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You can tell a lot about a person by the way he or she eats ice cream.

My son-in-law, for example, mixes his ice cream with water first. He smushes it around until it’s a thin paste. I don’t want to judge, but yuck. He says everyone in his family dilutes ice cream with water.

Given that all in-law behavior is suspect and bizarre, I don’t go there. I just don’t sit at the table when he eats ice cream. Apparently, ice cream smushing is a hereditary trait; my grandkids now beat the ice cream in a bowl until it’s the consistency of drool.

Let’s move on.

Reportedly, there are folks who poke a hole in the bottom of the ice cream cone and enjoy their dessert drop by drop. Some put it in the microwave to get it soft; others must have it frozen solid, inflicting instant brain freeze.

I am exceedingly fussy about my own ice cream. I used to love Breyers, but their product has become airier and less dense. Smaller containers offer less bang for the buck. In an emergency, however, their vanilla fudge will do.

Until very recently, my absolute favorite was Haagen Dazs vanilla chocolate chip or dulce de leche. Then I tried Turkey Hill vanilla, just vanilla straight up, and it offered a transcendent ice cream experience. That Madagascar vanilla simply explodes on the tongue.

My ice cream behavior is idiosyncratic in that I hardly ever eat the stuff because it isn’t particularly healthy, but when I do, I eat as much as I want. I can easily consume a pint in one evening. I don’t eat ice cream when my husband is home because, as a diabetic, he can’t have the real thing. He says he enjoys watching me enjoy, but I don’t get a sense of voyeuristic delight as he lurks about. His words are friendly, but his eyes are saying, “One false move and I’m charging up Turkey Hill.”

Never trust people who eat mint ice cream. They’re probably the same folks who will heat up a chicken pot pie when you come to dinner or, if they’re in a really adventurous mood, mac and cheese. The mint thing is a sign of poor taste. If I were on a desert island and mint chocolate chip ice cream cones were growing out of the ground, I would not partake.

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