Fish Ice Cream

Was Re: Rictus Hep, flavor consultant for Bresler's 34 Flavors

Two weeks ago, my housemates and I bought an ice cream machine.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. I figured we ate enough of the stuff, and besides, Sheung was getting itchy because we hadn't bought him a new appliance for months.

The ice cream machine was of the electric persuasion, unlike the old-fashioned mechanical types which I remember cranking for hours in my childhood. On a particularly hot San Diego summer day, my father would load the ice cream machine up with ice and rock salt, then my two brothers and I would take turns cranking it. Eventually, we would bore of this task, and my father would end up cranking it for the last half hour.

So, my housemates and I bought this ice cream machine. Then we went out and bought some more ice cube trays for the freezer (you need six trays of ice cubes per 1 1/2 quart batch of ice cream). Then we went out and bought a big tub of salt (you need three cups of salt per batch of ice cream). Then we went out and bought a gallon of half-and-half and heavy cream (you need two cups of each per batch of ice cream).

And finally, we made some ice cream. In fact, we've made ice cream several times since. We've made vanilla ice cream, chocolate ice cream, chocolate chip ice cream, cherry ice cream, and even chocolate - chocolate chip - cherry ice cream.

All of this is well and good. We've become quite popular with the neighbors, whom we invite over to same our latest creation. We have a steady stream of fresh and pleasing ice cream. We can have whatever flavor we want, when we want it.

This last point, however, is the source of my troubles. You see, ever since we bought the ice cream machine, Sheung has become obsessed with the idea of fish ice cream. Cod ice cream. Halibut ice cream. Swordfish ice cream.

And I, being of strong visualization skills and weak constitution, get the willies every time I think of one of these creations. Now, Sheung hasn't actually made any of these flavors yet, but he keeps on talking and talking about them. It's gotten to the point where all he has to do is mention the word "Scrod" and I have nightmares for days.

O, the pathos of it all.