Sometimes I make ice cream. I bought an ice cream maker about a year ago, after watching The Great British Baking Show. It looked easy. It is. Yesterday I made butterscotch ice cream. Oh, how I love butterscotch. There's a story there.
As a teeny bopper in the late 1960's I imagined I was the reincarnation of my maternal grandmother, who died before I was born. Don't ask me why, it was a conceit born of teen frenzy, a countercultural whim. There might have been drugs involved.
Creating this self-serving fantasy took a lot of creative energy. I picked my mother's brain for information about Grandma. What was she like, her favorite foods, flowers, colors, I asked. Apparently she loved butterscotch. Hey! Me, too. THERE was the proof of our metempsychotical* connection.
That set me on a path of exploration. Mom made Grandma G's butterscotch pie. If I scraped the meringue off the top and only ate the bottom part it was heaven. When I went to the Dairy Queen I'd order a butterscotch sundae. Also heavenly. When my mother bought butterscotch swirl ice cream, my happiness was near to bursting.
I no longer believe I am a reincarnated version of Grandma G; however, I do feel connected to her because of butterscotch.
*Yes, metempsychosis is a word. Do you love it as much as I do?
That's an interesting way to develop a connection with a grandparent, but hey, whatever works! I don't mind butterscotch but I wouldn't call it a fave.
ReplyDeleteHa! I was an interesting teenager. And don't we all want to bond with our grandmother's over comfort food?
DeleteYummy! I had forgotten how much my mum loved it too. I remember when I was quite young (and we were quite poor) she would order the butterscotch sunday from McDonalds. Great story.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad you have a good memory of butterscotch, too!
DeleteI love your butterscotch grandma story. I haven't had anything butterscotch in such a long time. I'm going to have to find something yummy butterscotch the next time we go to the co-op. Yum!
ReplyDeleteButterscotch (made with brown sugar) has been supplanted by caramel (made with white sugar) in these modern times. :)
DeleteMaking any flavored ice cream must be quite a task.
ReplyDeleteWith an electric ice cream maker it is quite easy. We used to have a manual ice cream churn. That was a lot of work.
DeleteGoodness, it has been ages since I've had any butterscotch.
ReplyDeleteMmm Mmm good!
Treat yourself!
DeleteI seem to be something of a rarity, I was born - and lived for several years in their company - while all four of my maternal and paternal and grandparents were still hale and hearty. Early enough for my maternal grandfather to cane me (with a real cane, flexible enough inflict grievous pain) as a means of instructing me to follow his way of life - a freemason, a vegetarian and various other peculiarities. You'd have loved his nut rissoles.
ReplyDeleteEven rarer, I was born five years before WW2 broke out. I used to claim that I heard my father say to my mother "It's started!" but more recently I've tended to subscribe to Henry V's memorable words: "(old men) will remember with advantages".
My paternal grandfather was an ordained Baptist minister (then retired) with a club foot. Less enthusiastic about corporal punishment.
I know it sounds unlikely but I first heard "metempsychosis" pronounced by my mother when I was about 12. That didn't count because I never looked it up in the dictionary. Still haven't. There are certain words that aren't intended to be expressed orally. The charge of "smartyboots" automatically applies.
Why did your mother use that word?
DeleteI have no doubt that you inherited the butterscotch chromosome, much like I inherited the chocolate chromosome. It's not our fault - it's in our DNA.
ReplyDeleteHa! I'm happy to blame it on the DNA.
DeleteFood can trigger memories..good and bad!
ReplyDeleteYes, it sure can.
DeleteYummmm! Homemade butterscotch ice cream!
ReplyDeleteYour talk of "butterscotch" brought back childhood memories of my mother treating me to hot butterscotch sundaes at a dessert restaurant where she would order cheesecake. When I asked if I could taste the cheesecake she told me that I probably wouldn't like it because I didn't like cheese. For years, until I was in my late 20s, I refused cheesecake when it was offered to me because I believed my mother!
Hmmm... metempsychosis! After seeing your post, I spent some more time in the lengthy process of re-reading Moby Dick today. I laughed out loud when Herman Melville referred to metempsychosis on the last page I read.
"... Oh! the metempsychosis! ..."
(p. 469 of Moby Dick)
Oh cool! I have to go look.
Delete