Ice Cream Diaries 21                                                                   September 25, 2006

Well, as I suspected, my Diaries' writing looks to be a Fall to Spring thing, just like Soprano's and Scrubs.   It's not that I forgot about the trusty tabloid.   Many times I thought about sitting down to pen some dairy drivel, and I definitely got plenty of "It's been a while since we've seen a Diaries" from family, friends, and strangers these past months, but I just couldn't fit it into the rigors of what was again one crazy summer.   You can probably hear the tiredness in my voice.   Don't get me wrong, it was awesome to see the shop full of happy customers day and night, and I've got lots of acorns tucked away in Florence Savings for the long New  England winter, but it definitely was tiring.   Dad wasn't just blowing smoke when he said "owning an ice cream shop is a lot of work".   Fear not, it's still a bunch of fun.  They say, "you're only as good as your people."   To which I would add the corollary, "you only get a life if your people are good."   I don't know how I would have done it without my amazing scoop staff.   Lauren, Liz, Allison, and Katie hustled and scooped like mad from May to September.   Reliable, cheerful (I kept asking Katie to write a cheer for us, but she'd just giggle), ambitious, and always moving, these four little ladies kicked butt.

As I sit and rifle through the Halloween candy catalog on this crisp September day, scoop weary as I am, I can't believe my third summer has come and gone already.   Of course, there were those marathon days in July when I thought Labor Day would never get here.   Around early August things seem to hit a groove, and before I looked up from my batch freezer again, school buses were driving by the front windows.   With the exception of this past weekend's warm spell and ensuing scooping spree, things have settled into a slower but steady Fall pace, thanks to cool days and cooler nights.   This isn't all bad though.   I look forward to shortening the hours after Columbus Day, freeing me up to reacquaint myself with my other passions - writing, photography, paddling around in the new kayak, and drinking massive quantities of beer.   Ok, so massive quantities = 2 beers for me now.   Call me a lightweight, and I'll answer.   Besides not having quite as many acorns to bring to the bank every week, the most noticeable downside of September's arrival was saying goodbye to my summer team as they skipped off to college.   Here lies the downside of hiring older and wiser teens.   I have restaffed for the off-season with Taryn, Marissa, and Christin, and reclaimed Greatest American cake decorating Hero Matt from Dunkin Donuts.   It takes a little patience to allow the newbees time to scoop themselves up the learning curve, but they're getting it, so all is again well in Scooptown.   It's great to have Matt back to assist with cake duties, although 'The Lauren' stepped up to the cake challenge rather nicely.   Even Mom came out of retirement for a few hours this summer when I was in a sheet cake pinch.

I figured the big reason for not getting out an issue this summer was that after making ice cream for ten hours, scooping, doing the books, managing gummy inventory, or buying milk and bananas at Pure Foods, there was just nothing left in the tank for poetic waxing.    I discovered this week, however, the real reason is because I haven't been running.   Seems most of my inspirations come during my 3 mile loop through the woods of Nonotuck Park, along the Manhan rail trail, past the fire station, finishing with a giddy sprint or an agonizing crawl depending on my fitness level.   I finally dragged myself out for a loop a couple mornings ago, and sure enough, about a mile in, inspiration for a Diaries theme.   It came in the form of an old Starcraft Pop-up camper parked in a driveway on Williston   Ave.   The sight sent my mind racing through the archives of childhood camping trip memories.   Those were some good times.   Camping can toe the line between National Geographic adventure special and a Blue Collar TV episode, but faux picket fences and coin-operated showers aside, camping is cool, and is responsible for some of my favorite family memories.   Fishing, hiking, whittling, hunting for firewood and that perfect marshmallow toasting stick, catching frogs, climbing then falling out of trees, mmm.   As I reminisce over all those great trips and try to recall the ultimate camping story to share, scenes like hiking the knife's edge of Mt. Kathadin and that amazing riverside campsite near New Hampshire's Flume attraction do come to mind, but it's mostly little stuff.   Like that marshmallow toasting stick or catching sunfish out of a rental rowboat or playing 'Candyland' with my brothas as the rain pecked away at the camper's roof.  It's a curious thing, the more you think about life, the more you realize what makes it great is not so much the big stuff but all that little stuff.   When I first ran by that pop-up camper, it didn't trigger a big memory, just a warm feeling, like leaning towards a crackling campfire.    They say you're supposed to live in the moment, but when you ponder the past and discover it really is all about little moments, you can't help but appreciate this one just a little bit more.   This one.   Right now.   There it is.   Wait for it... here comes another one.   Ah, nice.

I miss Lauren.   The place nearly ran itself when she was here.   I wouldn't even mind listening to her Fray cd 8 times in a row again.   I tried to talk her out of it, but she seemed determined to go to college.  Kids these days.

Moving along to the ice cream portion of our show, "what flavors have I been missing", you ask.    Let's see.  How do lavender, tiramisu, white chocolate raspberry cheesecake, Rolo, Skybar, mango, malted vanilla, lime-mint sorbet, kiwi sorbet, mint Oreo, Cappuccino n' Cream, M&M pretzel, Teaberry, and Hazelnut Coffee sound?   There must be more, must think.   For most of the summer, Allison and Katie requested I make a cinnamon bun flavor.   I finally got that one done with two days to spare before Labor Day.  With Allison's help, it came out wicked good.  We started with a cinnamon base, added a hint of vanilla, a few other secret ingredients, swirled-in icing and cake pieces at the end, and voila!, Cinnamon Bun ice cream.   Creating new flavors is by far the best part of making ice cream.  Two surprise hits this summer were the lavender and lemon ice cream.  People always asked "what's lavender taste like?", which is a bit like asking "what does a hot dog taste like?".   It tastes like a hot dog.   In most cases, I just offered up a dollop of Lavender on a tasting spoon.    When someone requests a flavor by saying something like, "I used to have it at Poppy's ice cream shop when I was a kid, and I haven't been able to find it since.", it usually fall into the 'must try' pile.   Can't say I've ever had lemon ice cream myself, lemon sorbet sure, but not ice cream.   It was pretty good and actually sold well.  The batch of pear ice cream was made under the same pretext, although it did take a bit longer to see the bottom of that tub.     The Teaberry was interesting and nichey (not sure that's a word), but seems to be taking longer to sell too.   I may just change the name to Wintergreen or throw in a pack of Teaberry gum, maybe that'll jumpstart sales.

A couple days ago, a woman wandered in from the Laundromat a few doors down and proceeded to tell me how much she enjoys my ice cream, particularly the aforementioned lavender.   "Heaven in a spoon" is the way she described it.  She went on to say she wished she could indulge but alas only had $1.10 in pocket change after the dryers.   At which point, I scooped her up a dish of the violet stuff, and said, "One regular dish of Lavender.   That'll be $1.10 and one cool tagline.   Have a nice day."

Another woman came into the shop and asked if she could hang a poster in my window.   My side window always has flyers announcing a coming show or fundraiser.   I knew she was a nutritionist by trade, so I had to ask, "The poster isn't about why ice cream is bad for you, is it?"   She laughed and said no, of course not.   She hung it and went on her way.   A little later, I wandered over to the window and read the leading caption in her poster announcing a seminar she was doing at the library later that week.  "How to get your kids to eat healthy"   Yah, that's good for business.    Sorry Vanessa, just can't do it.   But can I get you some chocolate fudge?

Had my first restaurant review, couldn't have hoped for much better...

Valley Advocate Review

...new sign... Mt.Tom's

Another site, not so impressive on account of I wrote it myself but if you've got time to kill...

Valley Biz Guide

I got to try out my backup power source this summer.   The seventeen thunderstorms we had over the past three months were no match for Easthampton's power grid, giving up just two short storm-related outages.   However, the big blackout came on a Saturday morning in late August, thanks to one daring and now very dead tightrope walking squirrel.  After nearly three hours of impatiently waiting for the power to return, I decided it was time to drag the new Wildfire 3500 watt gas generator out of the basement.  It started right up, and after I ran all the power chords to my ice cream freezers, I wasn't quite back in business (still no power for lights, cash register, walk-in, etc.), but the 175 gallons of ice cream were no longer in harm's way.   The power did come back 45 minutes later, so it turned out I really didn't need to set it all up, but it was nice to see that my new generator really is capable of handling all four dippers.   Money well spent.    Hopefully never have to use it again, but comforting to know it sits at the ready in a dark corner of my basement.

I've already professed my limited knowledge of candy when I started this gig.  All I knew about candy was it tastes really sweet.  Growing up, I indulged no more or less than any normal kid I suppose.  In fact, I have a curious association between old-fashioned candy stores and being sick.  When I was a tyke, Mom would take my brothers and me to the family doctor, Dr. Killian, (I know, tough name for a doctor) a few miles away.    Just down the road from his office was the Old Country Store, a very hip candy store replete with old-fashioned candy jars stuffed with all things gummy, rock candy, penny candy, and everything else under the confectionary sun.   They even had a big pickle barrel full of, you guessed it, pickles.   As a kid, those drives to Dr. K. were a strange mix of  "Crap, I have to go to the doctor and gag on a tongue depressor or get shot up with tetanus or suffer some other form of pediatric torture" and "I get to go to the greatest place on earth, the Old Country store, and my brothers don't!"  Maybe this explains the scratchy throat I had the first few weeks in the shop.

Hadn't planned on telling that story, was just going to introduce this cool website I check out from time to time to get ideas candyblog   Check it out sometime.   Apologies if it makes you sick.  J to the K.

How about a little ice cream trivia...   I mentioned in an earlier installment that people here call chocolate sprinkles 'Jimmies' and the multi-color ones, 'Rainbow Sprinkles'.   Jimmies seems to be a very regional thing, so if you're reading this from Charleston or Cleveland or Atlanta, you may think I'm crazy already, but like the way Boston area people call them Frappes and we west of Worchester call them milkshakes, it's a regional thing baby.    Akin to the few concerned Moms who complained about my selling candy cigarettes (note to Moms: I don't do that anymore), occasionally someone will tell me in so certain terms that the term 'Jimmy' is racist.   Well, I did some digging and from all I can find, it's just not true.   Read on... http://www.brighams.com/ice_cream/facts.asp

Mt.Tom's now has an official mascot.   Unfortunately, it's not yet that cool black lab named 'Coney'.  Had to settle for one blue Beta fish.   He swims around in a small bowl on the windowsill between the shop and kitchen.   We had a 'Name the Fish' contest this summer and gave away a Mt.Tom's giftcard to the winner, as chosen by the summer crew.   We got over fifty entries, ranging from Sophia to Fishy to Swedish to Sven to Dickweed (didn't think that one was so family-friendly) to Jimmy Jr. to Tom.  Tom beat out Jimmy Jr. in a squeaker.   The good news is now when someone calls me Tom, I just say no, I'm Jim.  Tom's the fish.   I know, I'm also a dork.

Did you miss the old gang these past few months?   Poor Reej.   He was under house arrest all summer.   He won't tell me exactly what he did this time to deserve such a harsh sentence, but he mentioned the word 'probation', so it seems safe to say it was more than just a domestic offense.   Even now that school is back in session, he has to go right home from school every day.  His 'myspace' used to be full of daring stunts and adventures like the time he and his buddies dressed up like pirates and took over the giant ship plaything in the front of Burger King and threatened to make the drive-up window girl walk the plank as they chanted "Arrg! Yo ho-ho and a bottle of Red Bull!"   Or the time they filled a Big E shopping cart with jack-o-lanterns from nearly every stoop in town, wheeled them down the rail trail to the skate park and played pumpkin dodge ball and sucked down Pixie Stix long into the night.   I still see big brother Root Beer Rudy occasionally ride by the shop on his bmx.  He's still into the goth thing, Easthampton's original 'man in black', and I can't tell you if he's still in school.  Come to think of it, I haven't noticed that fifty pound pack slung on his back lately.  Perhaps his penchant for the Marlboro Lights and listening to Concrete Blonde with his buddies has gotten the best of him.   Poor Rudy, a bit of a lost soul right now.  If only I could reach out to him, perhaps with a root beer float and some reassuring words like, "everything's going to be ok."

Had another sighting of one of the original 'gang of five', as I like to call them.  Remember, Full Pint?   He's now six feet two, sporting hair down to his shoulders, and packing a mean Schecter Hellraiser electric guitar.   Seems he's traded in the Eagle Scout image for that of indie rock star.   Life imitating art, to think I just made up that whole 'Scram Lumpy' band thing a year or two ago.

Well, time for me to scram.  Hopefully, I'll be back sooner than later this time.

Peace out.

p.s. If you didn't already notice, you can click on everything underlined...

Your bud,

Jim

There is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way.            Christopher Morley (1890 - 1957)