{"id":75126,"date":"2014-08-07T19:04:09","date_gmt":"2014-08-07T23:04:09","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=75126"},"modified":"2014-08-07T19:04:09","modified_gmt":"2014-08-07T23:04:09","slug":"i-scream","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/08\/07\/i-scream\/","title":{"rendered":"I Scream"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"4339360648_1648fbb9fd_b\"<\/a>

Photo: Zechariah Judy<\/p><\/div>\n

\n

As a child in suburban Connecticut, I had always considered the purl of the Good Humor truck to be more closely akin to a cricket\u2019s chirp or the sound of summer rain: a seasonal gift, wreathed in sweet associations \u2026 [but] it is a grave error to assume that ice cream consumption requires hot weather. If that were the case, wouldn\u2019t Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield have established their first ice cream parlor in Tallahassee instead of Burlington, Vermont, which averages 161 annual days of frost? \u2026 Wouldn\u2019t John Goddard, an outdoorsman of my acquaintance, have arranged for a thermos of hot chicken soup instead of a half gallon of French vanilla ice cream with raspberry topping to be airdropped to him on the summit of Mount Rainier? And wouldn\u2019t the Nobel Prize banquet, held every year in Stockholm on the tenth of December, conclude with crepes Suzette<\/em> instead of glace Nobel<\/em>? As the lights dim, a procession of uniformed servitors marches down the grand staircase, each bearing on a silver salver a large cake surrounded by spun sugar. Projecting from the cake is a dome of ice cream. Projecting from the dome is an obelisk of ice cream. Projecting from the obelisk is a flame. When the laureates\u2014who have already consumed the likes of homard en gel\u00e9e \u00e0 la cr\u00e8me de choux fleur et au caviar Kalix<\/em> and ballotine de pintade avex sa garniture de pommes de terre de Laponie<\/em> with no special fanfare\u2014see what is heading their way, they invariably burst into applause.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

\u2014Anne Fadiman, born today in 1953, from her essay \u201cIce Cream\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As a child in suburban Connecticut, I had always considered the purl of the Good Humor truck to be more closely akin to a cricket\u2019s chirp or the sound of summer rain: a seasonal gift, wreathed in sweet associations \u2026 [but] it is a grave error to assume that ice cream consumption requires hot weather. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5027],"tags":[1724,9158,364,115,11470,4279,92,10033],"class_list":["post-75126","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-food","tag-anne-fadiman","tag-birthdays","tag-essays","tag-food","tag-ice-cream","tag-nobel-prize","tag-summer","tag-winter"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nHappy Birthday, Anne Fadiman!<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"An excerpt from the essay \u201cIce Cream\u201d by the American essayist and reporter, born today in 1953.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/08\/07\/i-scream\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta 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