By Nancy King

Ice cream and I go way back. By the time I was ten I had figured out how to eat a half-gallon of ice cream in one sitting, carefully leaving the rim undisturbed so that someone opening the package might think it was full, albeit a bit light. I ate any kind we had, mostly Neapolitan—vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry. Vanilla by itself was boring, but not so bad after I smushed it with the strawberry and chocolate.

When confronted by my mother or father or sister I denied all knowledge of the missing ice cream. “Maybe a mouse ate it. Look at the way it’s been nibbled,” I suggested, looking as innocent as only a ten-year-old can. 

“I think the mouse is a little girl with blonde pigtails,” said my father, shaking his head, amazed that I could eat so much cold sweetness in such a short time. I gave up pretending to be a mouse and used my babysitting money to buy ice cream.

Years later, married and divorced, I made a birthday party for my son when he turned nine. A friend of mine gave him a half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream as his birthday present. My son took the ice cream, and thanked the man, looking upset rather than happy. “What’s the matter?” asked my friend, “don’t you like mint chocolate ice cream? Would you rather have another flavor?” 

“I like mint chocolate chip ice cream just fine,” said my son, “but my mother LOVES it.”  Embarrassed, I swore I wouldn’t eat any. Well, maybe he wouldn’t notice if I took a few spoonfuls. Well, perhaps I ate more than I thought I did. Good lord, did I eat that much? How is it possible? I only ate a few spoonfuls at a time. Off to the store to buy two half gallons of mint chocolate chip ice cream. One for him. One for me. I would have bought three but my freezer was too small.

One day the unthinkable happened. After eating a little bit of ice cream in the company of friends at a dinner party, I quickly became a pariah. The smell was awful and it was definitely coming from me, even though I’d eaten only one small scoop. Maybe it was the flavor or the brand. When no one was around I ate different kinds, more expensive products. No matter what variety I tried, the result was the same. If I wanted to be in the company of others, if I didn’t want bad stomach cramps, I definitely could not eat ice cream. I was bereft. Upset. Astounded. How could my body betray me like this? How could my body suddenly decide I could no longer eat ice cream?

It got worse. In time I could no longer eat dairy or gluten or nuts or soy or beans. I managed to assuage my craving for goodies by making my own cakes and cookies, but I couldn’t make ice cream. Then, when I was dealing with chemo, and food no longer tasted good, I was delighted to find a brand of raspberry sorbet with raspberries as the first ingredient. It was delicious and almost as satisfying as ice cream. Much to my dismay, it soon became hard to find and then there was none to be found anywhere. All other brands of sorbet were too sweet. I tried them all.

The pandemic hit. No traveling possible. I live alone, increasingly feeling the depressing effects of being deprived of friends’ visits and hugs. I couldn’t go out to eat in restaurants that served coconut sorbet. I needed a treat. I needed ice cream. I began searching the freezer section in grocery stores, reading ingredients as if my life depended on finding a dairy free, gluten free, soy free, nut free, bean free frozen treat where sugar was not the first ingredient. Sugar is not good for anyone, but for people like me, sugar is definitely not a friend.

One day, after having scoured the frozen food section for weeks, much to my delight, I found a brand of dairy free, nut free, gluten free, soy free, bean free ice cream with low sugar in my two favorite flavors—mint chocolate chip and coffee chocolate chip — the other flavors didn’t interest me. I bought two pints, one of each. I told myself I’d eat only a quarter of one pint. But deprived as I was, I ate the whole damn pint of mint chocolate chip and felt like purring. I promised myself from now on I’d only eat a third of one pint. By the time I finished making the promise I had consumed half the pint of coffee chocolate chip. 

The next time I went to the grocery store I bought four pints. Two of each kind. Not a good idea to shop too often with the virus flitting around. I vowed I’d ration them so they’d last a week. I waited one day. Two days. Three days without ice cream felt like a month. Consuming half of each pint was sometimes the highlight of my day. A week and a half later I needed food and went shopping despite the rising rate of people testing positive for Covid. I hit pay dirt. The brand was on sale. I bought eight pints, four of each kind. 

The virus may deprive me of friends’ visits and hugs, eating in restaurants, and all manner of social activities, but it can’t separate me from gluten free, dairy free, soy free, nut free, bean free mint chocolate chip and coffee chocolate ice cream. I have two new, forever buddies. 

Santa Fe-based Nancy King’s new memoir, Breaking the Silence, (Terra Nova Press) is available online at bookshop.org and amazon.com Please visit www.nancykingstories.com where you can order her books, read excerpts of her memoir and novels, learn about her nonfiction dealing with the power of stories, imagination, and creativity, as well as information about Nancy’s workshops. You can also order books from Nancy by contacting her at nanking1224@earthlink.net