"I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream..."
The ultimate in comfort food. Sweet and fat with memories of lactation and infancy tying the whole experience together. I lived on it when I was young and thin. There was no need for any upscale brands then, just an instant cold and wet gratification. I had my turn with the dipper as well. Working in The Edina View restaurant/ice cream parlor, I mixed it in a big freezing churn in the back room, twenty gallons at a crack, then served it up to the neighborhood swells. No tips for the help, either.
The Edina View was run by a married couple, transplanted southerners, the shambling, scruffy man was always working angles to get ahead- he had a basement full of old candy vending machines, he supplied fruit-punch for wedding receptions and worked part-time for the school district. The woman was frilly, with big hair. There were always a few "special" customers she gave special attention. Me, I just dished the ice cream, cleaned tables and washed dishes. Buck-ten an hour and when the afternoon sun shone through the front doors you could see through the summer dresses of the women who walked in. Life was good.