ice cream – Steph's Scribe

The Case for Gelato

April 16, 2017April 20, 2017 Steph's Scribe

The first gelato cart appeared between the years of 1920 and 1930 in the northern Italian city of Varese. Legend regarding the actual incarnation of ice cream is vague, though history suggests the idea of ice cream started in Sicily, ancient Rome, and Egypt when frozen snow was preserved underground and flavored. A man by the name of Francsco Procopiio dei Coltelli made the first usable ice cream machine in 1686.

To all of these innovators of gelato, I thank you.

I’m not sure my life would be the same without gelato in it.

Gelato means ice cream, and it starts out with the same custard base, but it has a higher proportion of milk than cream and eggs (and sometimes has no eggs at all). When making gelato, it is churned at a much slower rate than ice cream, incorporating less air, which makes the gelato denser than ice cream. And, as an added bonus, gelato has less fat than ice cream.

As you have probably noticed in your local grocery store, sales of gelato are on the rise. In fact, Americans are loving and consuming gelato right now at a record pace. Sales were up 32 percent last year, and the selection of gelato has increased.

With warmer weather comes our increased desire for gelato of all flavors. If you live in Maryland or plan to visit soon, be sure to visit Vaccaro’s in Little Italy in Baltimore for some of the best gelato around. Or, if you’re content to bring some home from your local grocer, I highly recommend the Talenti brand, especially the Sea Salt Caramel and Mint Chocolate Chip varieties.

If I had my druthers and an airline ticket, I’d venture to the place of gelato’s birth. Some of the best gelato I ever had was in Rome at Giolitti.

You won’t be disappointed.

Stephanie Verni is Professor of Business Communication at Stevenson University and is the author of Inn Significant, Baseball Girl, and Beneath the Mimosa Tree. Along with her colleagues Leeanne Bell McManus and Chip Rouse, she is a co-author of Event Planning: Communicating Theory and Practice, published by Kendall-Hunt.

On Life

Play Spud, Catch Fireflies, Run Through the Sprinkler

April 14, 2017 Steph's Scribe

***

I am one of the lucky ones.

My childhood was filled with laughter and love and long days spent outside that rolled into the evening. When I think of my formative years, I picture myself playing outside on the lawn, riding bikes through the neighborhood, going to the park, splashing at the neighborhood pool, or hunting down my friends in a friendly game of flashlight tag. We were outside most of the time; I’m sure my mother loved it that way. Besides, why be cooped up all day inside when the glorious sunshine beckoned us to come outside…and…well, play.

Two days ago on one of my long walks in my current neighborhood, I came upon a group of kids. They were playing SPUD. I said to one of them, “SPUD was my favorite game as a kid.” He responded, “It’s the best.”

He’s right. It’s a great game for all to play. It doesn’t take a lot of talent, and it’s just fun to see what happens after you throw that ball up in the air and call someone’s name. It’s good old-fashioned fun. No electronics are needed. Just a ball and some friends. And voila! You’ve got a game.

We happened to love that game and played it on the hill in our backyard in Bowie. Our family had a pretty grand hill—super for sledding in the winter, that was for sure. But in the summer, we made use of it in other ways. SPUD was a street favorite. There was also Hide and Seek using our yard, our neighbor’s yard, and our other neighbor’s yard across the street. Flashlight tag worked the same way. We played Graveyard and What Time Is It, Mr. Fox and Red Light, Green Light.

On super hot days, if we weren’t at the pool, we’d get in our bathing suits and run through the sprinkler. We’d get squirt guns and play a game of squirt gun tag.

When dusk arrived, we got our Mason jars, kiddie nets or our hands, and hunted for fireflies. We’d catch them and watch them light up while we ate ice cream on the patio. Then, we’d let them free.

As the crisp spring air and sunshine warms up Maryland, I hope I see more kids outside playing SPUD, eating ice cream, catching fireflies, and running through the sprinkler.

Just like the days of old.

On Life

Oh, Boy. Get The Confessional Ready.

September 19, 2012September 19, 2012 Steph's Scribe

I don’t often do this. I’m not in the habit of posting or endorsing products on my blog. Hear me clearly. I am only posting this on my blog today because I realized rather quickly after my cousin posted the above photo on Facebook that I’m in real danger.

D-A-N-G-E-R.

I’m fearing that my waistline might expand. There should have been a warning in the forecast.

C-A-U-T-I-O-N.

In fact, I’m pretty sure I feel it expanding from simply looking at the photograph of it.

N-O-T F-A-I-R.

Can you believe the nerve of Ben & Jerry? (I know…they no longer own the company, but I’m blaming them anyway. They started the damn thing in the first place. Besides, it just feels better to blame people rather than a company. It somehow makes it funnier, so, please, just indulge me and play along. Let’s try again…)

N-O-T F-A-I-R.

Ben & Jerry. They are not Italian men; what is the meaning behind these two guys making something as sinful as this? And they don’t even believe in the sacrament of penance and Catholic confession.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I ate two whole containers of Ben & Jerry’s cannoli ice cream in one sitting. And I’m on Weight Watchers.”

LIFE IS N-O-T F-A-I-R.

This latest “sweet treat” invention is not going to bode well for two main reasons:

I love ice cream.
I love cannolis.

If you can come up with a happy ending for me by the weekend, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll be driving to the nearest supermarket to pick up a pint. Or two. Let’s hope I stop at two. I’ll still have time to repent.

Confessions are heard on Saturdays.