I’ve mentioned it before: Project Ice Cream Space has been a long, ongoing process designed to clear enough space in our freezer to fit in some ice cream.
We’ve been separated from ice cream for so long we’ve practically become ice cream virgins. It’s indecent, that’s what.
And why was our freezer so full? Well, I’ll let you read here for that can of worms. It involves a very generous grandfather who lived through some tough, hungry times in his youth and therefore expresses his love by sending us pork loins, arm roasts, turkey breasts, ducks, myriads of cheddar bratwursts, and table-size tablets of chicken breasts.
We’ve been chipping away at the bounty slowly over the months, using dinner parties as an excuse to break out massive quantities of meat. We cleared out a pot roast for a church potluck.
We cleared out a massive pork loin with a group of friends. We slow cooked the turkey breast and shredded the leftovers into this soup.
Though the duck has yet to be dealt with, the space cleared was starting to get significant. History-altering. See the gap on the right?
Yes, the one next to the frozen bag of minced carrots and celery and the frozen pie crust?
Just the right size for a container of cookie dough frozen glory.
(I placed a black arrow in the above picture in case any of you are still half asleep and are having trouble following what’s happening. Aren’t I considerate?)
A number of weeks ago, we finally sealed our success with the purchase of this tub of ice cream:
I’d forgotten . . . I’d forgotten.
Heavens to Betsy.
What does that mean?? Who is Betsy, and why is Heaven ringing her up?
I’m having brain freeze, so I can no longer ponder that.
Over the weekend, this tub of Dulce de Leche made its way from the grocery store to our freezer. How it got there, I can’t quite remember. I claim no responsibility other than that of making the evidence disappear.
A sugar coma is imminent.