Case Study 84: "The Banana Split"

Ice. Cream. Sundae.  

Three words that when whispered softly to any human being induces nothing but sheer unadulterated joy.

When I was younger, the opening of the swim club was always marked by two things: the lengthening of the summer days and an ice cream social.  We would run off the bus, throwing bags and books to the floor, and change into our suits in thirty seconds flat.  Out the door again, on the back of a bike, hair and cares flying behind in the wind as we raced out the driveway, around the corner and up the big hill.  

It seemed like Everest's climb, but salvation was at the end: moms in khaki shorts served peaks of cold creamy delights.  We sat on the grass, in Umbros and tee-shirts, and kicked off our shoes, where new friendship bracelets graced our pale ankles and wrists.  Refreshed, careless, we watched as they unlocked the pool gate. Summer's on and on, again. 

"The Banana Split" is a fluffy banana cupcake, filled with strawberry jam, and crowned with vanilla bean buttercream, chocolate drizzle, sprinkles and a cherry on top. 

  

Long gone are the days when your only real option of a nighttime treat was a trip to the ice cream parlor. We can make late night doughnut drives, pop into a cupcake shop and get every candy under the sun at any hour of the day.  But tell me, do any of these things compare?  

Sit me on a hot city curb and soft serve me a rainbow sprinkled cone on a hot summer day.  Let my tongue tingle with the bubbly cold sensation of the perfect root-beer float, after the ice cream starts melt through the fizz.  Give me a sliced banana and hot fudge over a trio of flavors.  Sprinkle on nuts and jimmies, surround me with three friends and give me a cold spoon.  

That, my friends, is summer romance.