Rainbow Cone, a deep-rooted summer establishment on the Southside of Chicago, is home to many memories for kids who grew up with the thrill of Rainbow Cone as a surprise trip at the end of a long and steamy Chicago summer day. My favorite Rainbow Cone outing was the night that my mom took the four of us and our neighbors to Rainbow Cone while my dad finished his afternoon shift. She must have been harried that night because upon our return to the car with our dripping, sticky cones, my mom discovered that she left the keys in the ignition, with the door locked and the car running. It was 1974, and hence no cell phones, so my mom called the desk from a pay phone, and they radioed my dad, who managed to drive over in his squad car with the extra set of keys.
All of this took quite some time, so we played in the parking lot, chasing each other, and playing tag. For us, it was a boon — ice cream, staying out extra late, getting to see Dad when he was working, hanging out with other kids in the lot. For my mom, it was frustrating and embarrassing. I don’t remember her being upset, though, or even taking it out on us.
I should remember that — her patience and forbearance in the face of the mundane sort of inconveniences that litter our lives — when faced with my own trials.
As Gorilla Girl and Monkey Man devour my homemade rainbow sherbet, so fast even, that I can’t even snap a photo of it, well, all the more reason to forget the mundane worries for the moments that might be worth a new memory for another generation of kids.
Since I am never good at food photos, I ask you to rely upon your imagination. After all, even if I did take a fantastic photo of my rainbow sherbet, it could it no way illustrate the citrus-y, sweet and tart, tangy and fruity, smooth and creamy taste of that lovingly made ice cream. My rainbow sherbet — lime, orange, lemon and raspberry — was a monumental effort that paid off in dividends far more reliable than today’s stocks!
It all started because Gorilla Girl sampled the rainbow sherbet at Olivia’s, the new ice cream parlor in town. They serve Sherman’s Ice Cream, and at $3.50 for one scoop, I don’t think they will be around much longer (and I am certainly not going to be handing over that much cash for mass produced ice cream). I tasted Gorilla Girl’s skimpy scoop that day, and was unfavorably impressed with the bland flavor. Of course, I had to take on the challenge — to make Gorilla Girl stop asking for Olivia’s.
Tonight, the verdict was loud and clear. In response to the question, “Who makes the best ice cream?” Gorilla Girl and Monkey Man screamed, “Mommy!” Even JE got in the act, noting, “This is beautiful — I’ll never eat ice cream from the store again.”
From my unbiased critics and fan base, there it is. Home made rainbow sherbet beats Olivia’s hands down. As for competing with Rainbow Cone, well, that will have to wait until I can afford that $40,000 pasteurizer!