I will not pose in liberated by very open mind it is for some things, or strictly traditionalist, nor I am, with occasional exceptions. Among the issues on which I can tick another of traditional, and perhaps even reactionary, why not admit it, is the subject of ice cream. And when I say ice cream, I mean the real, the ice cream parlor, not these sad substitutes, "... simple imitation of happiness ..."* sold in supermarkets in boxes cardboard or plastic, the best thing is that the latter have the package will go after multiple uses. Not to mention the homemade ice cream, which invariably crystallize and one has the sensation of chewing glass. Ice cream that come in powder in an envelope, better not say anything, because they both like the real ice cream as they have carousel horses with Mr. Nedawi .**
Returning to the subject that motivates this confession, say that without being a fundamentalist of the cone (I do not come with plastic ice cream cup, which is heresy), always take the same ice cream flavors, with a candidate on the bench for the flavors to appeal to him in case there is no nut dish. That is, the ice must be based on fresh milk or cream, with some dried fruit or chocolate chips, and nothing else. I never saw my face in disgust when I hear someone asks kiwi ice cream, but I imagine, and I scared myself.
Well, this afternoon, the stifling heat, had to do some paperwork and then he thought going to a movie if it came on time (as I confessed in a previous post , I usually go to the movies at first afternoon), because I got a half hour before I decided go to a bar and drink, because staying in the village threatened the lives even of a Bedouin, when I noticed the presence of an ice cream parlor. Without considering the calories, I decided I could take a ice creams under the cold embrace of the local air conditioning. I went in, paid for the ticket, and went to the employee who will soon demonstrate his skill wrist movement to build the kind of ice cream on the cone ziggurat ... and then what happened happened.
....
I do not know whether climate change and global warming that was finished I melt neurons, and with them, my principles, or climacteric change which is surely suffering for chronological reasons or what, but the point is very loose body, told her: "From lemon pie, please."
cream Decades Russian dish of nuts, caramel and cream slush American thrown overboard! Years and years of cloying sweetness, betrayed by I know not what impulse of the most unjustified rebellion ...! What is happening to me? Is this a sign of the end of time, or worse, as it reemerges Peñarol Libertadores champion? I have fear, I'm not ashamed confess.
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Worst of all was that lemon ice cream pi and was delicious.
* Verse of the song "My People" by José Carbajal, The Sabalero
** Horse winner of the 2011 edition of Ramírez Grand Prix
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