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The Ice Cream Family
Over the span of my seventeen years on earth, I have come to one complete and utter conclusion. I have decided, without any compounding or scientific evidence, that nothing, and I mean nothing, stirs up as much emotion in my family as the discussion (and consumption) of Turkey Hill ice cream products does. Turkey Hill ice cream, the product of Pennsylvania dairy farms, is neither premium nor completely natural. Still, it gets the job done pretty well.
Each and every day, as soon as he gets home from his fourth grade studies, my youngest brother walks straight into the kitchen and proceeds to open the freezer. In that defining moment, the mood for the entire night is set. If there is a full half-gallon of Turkey Hill waiting, the crisis is averted. However, if the freezer is bare of ice cream, first his jaw will stiffen, then drop, and then the howl of, “MOM. NO. ICE. CREAM.” will chorus across the house. I know how worrisome it is – this sugar-addicted child may have to go almost 24 hours ice cream free! Generally, this would be the moment when he would find the home phone and leave my dad around four messages requesting ice cream. Usually, these messages never go through, so no ice cream arrives.
However, when my dad does in fact get the message, and brings home a nice half-gallon of ice cream, more conflict often arises. Here is where it gets messy: my well-intentioned father has a habit of buying whatever flavor is labeled “Brand New!” or “Limited Edition!” I mean no offense towards the flavor masters at the company, but every single new Turkey Hill ice cream product never seems to match the standards of their other ice cream types. For some reason, the texture is always different – far more whipped and quick to melt, but not in a good way.
For example, my dad recently brought home a new flavor called “Steelers Blitzburgh Crunch”. Yes, you can call us biased non-Steelers fans, but this ice cream was no good. To start, it was dyed bright yellow. I understand, I understand – many ice creams have some coloring in them! But are they yellow? This ice cream also melted a little too fast. One minute it was in the freezer and the next moment the top half of the carton was a soup. However, it was the bizarre off-taste that really set us over the edge. Steelers ice cream? Sorry Turkey Hill, but that’s gotta go.
A few days later, my dad came home excited – he had rebounded after his Steelers mishap and had bought us Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough! My brother quickly and excitedly grabbed a spoon and took a huge scoop. Suddenly, he began to gag.
“What is this?” he questioned. Upon closer look, we realized it was Coffee Cookie Dough. While not a bad ice cream (according to my parents), it set my ice cream craving brothers over the edge. It also did that weird melting thing that has come to be equated with “Limited Edition” ice creams.
“Dad, all we want is some nice ice cream to enjoy!” Call us ice cream snobs, sugar freaks, anything really; All we want is some ice cream to eat.
The next day, my mom went to the store and bought us some real Cookie Dough ice cream. After a family dinner, by fifteen-year-old brother slowly brought it out of the freezer. We all grabbed spoons and gathered around the half gallon, picking out cookie dough bites and joking how it was the best ice cream we had had in a week.
First my dad tried to defend his choices – but then he gave up and decided to dig in too. However, all of the spoons were gone, so he grabbed a fork. Suddenly, the contained was filled with pink coloring. We looked around at each other – who was dying our precious ice cream pink? I quickly noticed fork tines running through the area that was pink. We all turned towards my dad at the same time, and noticed he was alternating forkfuls of ice cream with strawberries.
“Hey,” he said. “Give me a break! If it wasn’t for my bad ice cream choices, we wouldn’t all be gathered around the table after dinner hanging on to every bite of our cookie dough.”
We relented. Suddenly, the carton was empty.
“Where did it go?” I wondered aloud.
“I guess I’ll grab another carton tomorrow” said my dad.
Simultaneously, my brothers caught his gaze.
“And yes, I wont get anything labeled “Limited Edition…”