Simpler Times Sundae
Growing up, I spent a lot of time at the beach. And around the beach. And at my house near the beach. And at my friends’ houses near the beach. Beach.
During summer vacations, my buddy, Tom, (best man at his wedding, no big deal) would invite me over to his family’s vacation home to bike, canoe, and swim around a little beach town near where we grew up. Our favorite thing to do was make massive ice cream amalgamations after a long day of beaching. After all, there are no ice cream rules in the summer. On one such day, Tom and I had spent every hour outside. We took our bikes to the marina, went swimming at the beach, played fetch with his dog, tried to catch a seagull, and finally came inside when we realized we were close to sun poisoning.
Tom’s vacation house was awesome. It had a sweet living room, giant bedrooms, lofts, and huge decks; The kind of place a Vanderbilt would barely find comfortable. A home with character that was just a little old, in the all-the-floorboards-creak kind of way. It was more charming than dysfunctional, but its age would turn out to be a deadly flaw.
Despite being in an affluent town, there were no public facilities. People were too stuck up to let you come in to use the throne; they didn’t want your sandy feet on the floor of their million dollar mansion. Throughout the day we would just pee in the ocean or behind some bushes, but for heavier payloads, we had to hold it in. For hours. On this fateful afternoon, we made it back to this old house, just in time to drop bombs.
And I did. I won’t get into details, except to say what was in the toilet resembled a diseased eggplant in color, shape and size. I have been afraid of toilet clogs since my first one in fourth grade. I have used courtesy flushes many times in my life, but this time, staring down the barrel of a twelve gauge shitgun, that would have had no effect. Now I looked at my twisted creation, weighing the options I came up with: hope for the best and flush, throw this thing out the window, or waffle stomp it through the shower drain.
I should have been more bold. I talked myself out of the more extreme options, convinced myself I was just being paranoid, and crossed my fingers. I had forgotten the cardinal rule: old house = imperfect plumbing. As I pressed that silver lever, I found I was silently repeating the Lord’s Prayer for the first time in my life. But the gods abandoned me, and the water level in the bowl started to rise. I prayed again, hoping the pressure of another flush would force it down. I flushed again. And again. And then once more, this time standing in a quarter inch of toxic waste.
My worst fear came to life, and the embarrassment I imagined couldn’t live up to the real thing. This was an end of days scenario. I fantasized that the underworld would split the earth in two and swallow the whole house at once. Eternity in hell seemed like a lesser punishment than what I would go through. Or, at the very least, I would be dead before I had to stand trial for my plumbing sin. I didn’t know what to do, other than to secretly call my own parents to see if they could drive over and bail me out. Tom’s whole family was downstairs and had no idea that in a few minutes their world would be turned upside down.
I finally turned the water to the toilet off, tried to use toilet paper and disinfectant to clean up the floor as well as I could, then went downstairs to face the music.
Somewhere in that descent, I blacked out. The body has a way of forgetting trauma so that you don’t have to relive it over and over. The next thing I knew, my dad was there to size up the problem. He grabbed a bucket and began carrying my shit water down the stairs, a few pints at a time, through the living room, and out the back door. Four times at first. Then, once the bowl had filled up again, another four times. After forty five more minutes of excruciating excrement embarrassment, the clog gave way, and the water started to recede on its own. Thank Shit Christ. I don’t think I have ever been more relieved.
It took me months to recover. I couldn’t look anyone in Tom’s family, or anyone else, in the eyes. Eyes are the window to the soul, and my soul was tarnished.
Anyways, here’s my recipe for an Ice Cream Sundae.
Ingredients:
I didn’t want to make this too easy on you. Some people see the word “sundae” and think, “Oh, this is more of an assembly job.” Bad news buddy. You’re about to learn how to make ice cream. Then you can make the sundae. Wait... that isn’t bad news!
Ice Cream
1 pint (2 cups) Heavy Cream
14 oz can Sweetened Condensed Milk
1 tablespoon Vanilla
Accessories
M&M’s
Reese’s Pieces
Butterscotch Morsels
Rainbow Sprinkles
Banana
Chocolate Fudge Sauce
Gummy Bears
Maraschino Cherry
Waffle Bowl
Canned Whipped Cream (You can use some of the whipped cream you make, but the canned stuff is better as a topping. Everything has a purpose.)
Equipment:
This recipe starts with making whipped cream. It is possible to whip cream by hand, but nobody has time for that. I used my standing mixer. If you don’t have a standing mixer, use an egg beater. If you don’t have an egg beater, hand your most annoying sibling a bowl of cream and a whisk and tell them it's possible to whip cream into gold. Just make sure to snatch it away from them and laugh when it becomes whipped cream. Otherwise, it will turn into “food gold,” AKA butter.
Standing Mixer/Bowl
Second large bowl
Spatula
Freezable container (not glass)
Active prep total: 15 minutes
FREEZE time: 6+ hours
Clean up: 10 minutes
This isn’t the best ice cream ever, but it tastes great, and the consistency is top notch. And you don’t have to tell anyone it isn’t traditional ice cream. They won’t know the difference. If they do, it's time to find new friends!
Instructions:
We are starting by making whipped cream. Pour 1 pint of COLD heavy cream into a bowl for your standing mixer. Whip it on a high setting, around 75% of your mixer’s top speed. On my mixer, there is a convenient setting called “whipped cream,” which is the 9th notch out of 12. So make it fast.
As the cream whips, you will notice the cream firming up to a stage of “soft peaks,” meaning it is capable of holding shape on its own, but still flops a little. I recommend whipping until “stiff peaks,” meaning the cream will hold whatever shape you give it, but BE CAREFUL. It takes very little time to go from soft to stiff peaks, and you can “over whip” the cream, at which point it will lose shape. I will not make jokes about soft and stiff peaks. I know you are already doing that.
If you over whip your cream, pour in 3 or more tablespoons of heavy cream, and whip again. Make sure to watch it closely!
In your second large bowl, use your spatula to combine the can of sweetened condensed milk, and a tablespoon of vanilla extract. Now comes the tough part.
Add your whipped cream on top of the mixture of vanilla and condensed milk. You have to slowly “fold” the mixture into the whipped cream, mixing in but not breaking the structure of the whipped cream. It isn’t easy, but the result is worth it.
Move the mixture to your freezable container, and put it in the freezer. You probably figured it out, but I had to tell you anyways. Now wait 6 hours for it to freeze. Or, do it overnight so you can sleep for those 6 hours and have it for breakfast.
Assuming you’ve frozen your ice cream for the requisite amount of time, pull it out and just enjoy that amazing fresh look of a smooth, undefiled ice cream container. It is a pure joy of life.
Now it is time to assemble! Get out your waffle bowl, warm up the fudge sauce to make it easier to drizzle, and try not to eat too many M&Ms before putting them in your sundae. Put a scoop or two (or all of) the ice cream into your waffle bowl, and add the rest of the toppings however you want to! My order was banana, sprinkles, butterscotch, M&Ms, Reese’s Pieces, gummy bears, Maraschino cherry, and chocolate sauce. BUT you should just do it however you want. Rekindle that imagination. Do it for the kid still inside of you.
This trip down memory lane feels pretty good, except for the gummy bears. It did absolutely bring me back to that sunny New England kitchen, but this time I ended up taking all the gummy bears out and eating them first. That first chocolatey, vanilla-y, peanut buttery, butterscotchy bite was ruined by the aggressive orange gummy bear flavor. Just leave them out completely. Otherwise, this will take you back to simpler times when it was just you and your best friend trying to forget how you almost caused irreparable home and relationship damage. Luckily, the fallout and embarrassment were only short term, and Tommy is still my best man. Thanks for sticking with me through the shit times, bud.
