Wednesday, September 10, 2008
We are a family who partakes in dessert after dinner almost every night. It's my fault. I love dessert slightly more than dinner. I can count on one hand how many times I have not saved room in my belly for some sort of dessert. My favorite is ice cream.
Each of my four children have different dessert tastes. While my daughter is currently obsessed with Simply Dipped, ice cream on a cone that has been dipped in chocolate, my biggest mister has been addicted lately to a stiff bowl of rocky road ice cream topped with chocolate "shell" and whipped cream.
Who buys the three pack of cans of whipped cream from Costco? That would be me. Each can lasts approximately 2 weeks in this house.
My middle mister is partial to vanilla ice cream topped with whipped cream, and the youngest has a new affection for dusty donuts. This is the name given to the small, white, powdered donuts stuffed into a box with a clear window on top for easy donut viewing. In college I was partial to the small chocolate donuts and a chocolate milk chaser. I don't like powdered donuts much. The chocolate coating had a waxy texture and always left a smattering of greasy goo on the roof of my mouth. Hence the need for chocolate milk. Yummy goodness.
Tonight my youngest had some vanilla ice cream with three Mike and Ike candies shoved into the small white mound. Ewe. He partook in four bites of the sweet concoction then swore to return to the dusty donuts tomorrow. He's fickle and experimental.
I had my usual, chocolate chip ice cream with whipped cream, and my husband, like always, had a bowl of Kellogg's Raisin Bran. How fibrous cereal mixed with disgusting hard bits of dried grapes constitutes dessert is beyond me, but he claims that the added tablespoon of sugar he throws into the bowl deems his cereal dessert worthy. I happen to disagree, by a long shot.
May I take your order?