Sunday, 4 August 2013

Chocolate-Cheese-Tsunami or rather Spicy-Strawberry-Dream?



Visit to an ice cream parlor that turned into a Lifestyle-Boutique.

(Don't expect to find Vanilla or Pistachio)

This is how it must feel to suck on a frozen stock cube, it shoots through my mind:

It tastes like carrot, has the consistency of mashed potatoes and wow, there is even a trace of fruit gum and old raincoat.




I am standing at the new trendy ice parlor in town and in my mouth melts a scoop of ice cream of a sort called "Vegan Carrots' Dream".

My taste buds are short of quitting on me.

I fight down the urge to spit it all out and bravely swallow the ice cream sludge before turning to the lady behind the counter again. "I'd like another scoop of this please." Me, pointing to the sort next to the one I had just chosen.

"This is asparagus," she exclaims, beaming with the kind of enthusiasm we know from lovestruck people who are eager to introduce their new found love to us.

Now at the latest, the moment has arrived where I should laugh out loud, toss the ice cream scoop straight through the parlor and get naked in front of everybody, just to point out the insanity of the situation.

Asparagus ice? Haha... good one.

Is there also Polony-Pistachio? Or Stracciatella-Liver-Sausage? If so, three scoops to take away please, plus, on top, a scoop of Carrots.

Of course, I'm saying none of that, instead, I paint on a fake smile and utter, "Asparagus? Sounds great!"

You know, there is this new phenomenon in my  town which I call the "Out-of-control-Gourmet-Ice-Parlor"!

You recognize it immediately: The look is a mix between Barbie-House and Bullerby. Everything is in pastels, neat and the furniture look charmingly home-made. Kind of how city people imagine the country life to be. And because all city dwellers have this secret yearning for life in a village - for an idyllic world, with happy cows, picket fences and the occasional tractor crossing their way, - everyone around me seems to have lost their minds lately.

Ice cream is the new caviar!

Or let's say: After years of smartassing about where the most authentic Italian espresso was served, grown-ups around me are now saying things like "Have you already tried Poopyseed-Melon-Chilli? It's devine."

Huh? Excuse me?

So why am I trying to participate in this madness?

See, sometimes I think I'm a born follower. I am easily enthralled by new things/trends. As a friend once put it, I tend to non-fact-related euphoria. And to be honest, there is something thrilling about visiting the Gourmet-Ice-Parlor which is only a fifteen-minutes walk from our home.

You have to join a grotesque long line up. In front of you approximately 50 people, in mid-day August heat. It sure rises the expectations. You are part of the in-crowd. While waiting I scan the shop windows I usually ignore while hurrying through town. For example, I never noticed that there's an orthopedic shop with some surprisingly funky shoes. Sorry if I'm digressing, it's just a really long wait and the queue is moving horribly slow.

But then I finally reach the counter and am almost overwhelmed by the variety of exotic ice-cream sorts spread out in front of me. I feel like a theatre goer who doesn't understand the new, modern play he's watching but still thrives on the feeling of being part of the intellectual crowd.

I read word creations like "Chocolate-Cheese-Tsunami" and something called "Spicy-Oysterbay-Strawberry-Dream". Between us, that's something for the rookies. Call me conservative, but I order Asparagus with Carrots.

There at least I know what I get.



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