Certainly I am not disparaging the significants of Memorial Day. But back when I grew up in Los Angeles usually Memorial Day was the beginning of Beach going and ice cream making. Oh sure, we visited gravesites and paid homage to our ancestors but not until we traveled back to Oklahoma later in the year. Oklahoma was the place all my ancestors were laid to rest. We visited Oklahoma later in the summer and to show our respect, we cleared off weeds and brambles from the gravesites.
But anyway, Memorial Day weekend was the official beginning of the beach and sunburn season. In addition to beach going, Memorial Day weekend was also the beginning of the hallowed ice cream making season. An even more important event and celebration.
My parents were big time Okie ice cream makers. You know, wooden bucket, hand crank, ice, rock salt, and all the trappings for making ice cream. A tradition started back when they lived in Oklahoma in the 1930s and early 40s. And, certainly continuing the necessary Okie grunt work to get to the big pay off of ”Homemade Ice Cream.” This is certainly an effort not for the faint of heart. Or is it, faint of Arm.
So, the tradition had continued when they later moved out to California. Absolutely summer was not complete and over without a big ice cream church pick nick in the park near the beach. Tubs and tubs of ice cream were made. Fresh banana, fresh strawberry, and vanilla. But, we never really got in to chocolate ice cream. Chocolate was just a bit too exotic. Not easy to make. Besides ma and pa loved the fresh fruit kinds of ice cream. So, that’s what we did.
My ma would cook up all the vanilla, eggs, cream and or whatever it took to make ice cream. For some reason I never knew how to formulate all that. It was beyond my job description. You know. Being an Okie boy in L A already came with its complications. Let alone trying to concoct ice cream recipes. My assigned specialty was knowing how to pile in the ice into the bucket, pouring the rock salt, and crank until my arm fell off. Well, that’s just an Okie expression. I still have my arm. I did the grunt work while my ma got the glory.
Actually, it was my dad who took all the glory. He acted as ice cream making choreographer. He was the one telling everybody what to do. When to do it. And, when to stop.
Gentlemen start your cranking! Then, let the scooping begin. I’ll take a scoop of each, thank you.