Some things, you tend to eat mainly in the summer. Watermelon. Corn on the cob. S’mores.
Fudgsicles.
Yep. Just as I would never consider consuming shortbread at any time of year outside Christmas, I would never eat a Fudgsicle when I’m not wearing sunscreen.
I have been making the most of the Fudgsicle these past few weeks. And so has the husband.
“OK,” said the husband a couple of weeks back. We were visiting friends at their seaside cabin and reclining on the deck. “We’ve been doing a straw poll this summer. Fudgsicle or Popsicle?”
This, of course, is what you do when summer has you dialed into chill zone. You shelve weighty matters for the time being, and ask people to vote for their favourite freezer novelty.
“Popsicle,” said one of the friends.
“Flavour?” said the husband, who had made it clear earlier that he cherishes the ice cream sandwich above all freezer novelties combined.
“Lime,” said the friend. “And root beer.”
True, our straw poll is hardly scientific, but it bears noting that the root beer Popsicle is a mighty popular commodity, as is grape — that is, among people who don’t go the Fudgsicle route.
“Drumsticks or Revellos?” continued the husband.
I was beginning to feel a tad hungry, and decided to state my preference.
“Neither,” I said. “I vote for the Creamsicle.”
“That wasn’t the question,” said the husband, clearly a tad exasperated. Since the summer freezer polling plan had been his idea, he’d been taking claim to the rules. “Which is your preference, the Drumstick or the Revello?” he asked. “If you were offered one or the other, which would you go for?”
“I don’t care for either,” I said. “But I do love orange Creamsicles. Oh, and also DQ ice cream cones. With the chocolate dip.”
“Oh!” said one of the friends. “I loved those too! Also loved those frozen treats that were red, white and blue!”
“You know,” said the friend’s husband. “Any kind of ice cream gets my vote. But if I had to choose, I’d go for strawberry or butterscotch ripple.”
“Hey!” said the friend. “I think we have some butterscotch ripple in the freezer! I’ll go get it!”
The husband sighed, abandoned his poll and returned to the seasonal chill zone. It’s where we like to hang right now — ideally, with an ice cream sandwich.
