Bobtail Year: Lust

Control your appetite. And stop leering, creeper.

July is month two of my Bobtail Year, two pints of Bobtail Homemade Ice Cream a month for donating to Oracle Theatre.

"I love Lust."
"I'll take a pint of Gluttony."
"Let me taste the Sloth."

Thanks to some able enabling from Bobtail, I have gotten to say each of these cheeky phrases aloud and in public. While portraying dessert as a sinful affair has become a worn-out cliche--a fact dessert makers (and this blog post) are willfully oblivious to--the twist of creating flavors based on the seven deadly sins is inspired.* That being said, before anyone gets worried I want to clear the air and say there have been zero reported fatalities linked to Bobtail's new seven-flavor cycle. It is also true that local worship centers have reported no uptick in absolution-seekers, hedonism be damned! So, without further ado, allow me to introduce the first three temptations, along with some fine marketing copy:

• Gluttony - "a decadent concoction created from the union of dark chocolate chips and chunks of fudge nut brownies mixed into a rich chocolate-base."
• Sloth - "a viscous dreamland of peanut butter-base, marshmallow and butterscotch."
• Lust - "a scandalous affair between chocolate and cinnamon, mixed with fudge, cherries and dark chocolate chips."

Two months down. Ten to go.

Wait! Do I hear snickering? Was something funny about that last one, Lust? Did you enjoy giggling like a middle schooler because the description used some naughty words? "Scandalous." "Affair." "Cherries." It's okay. Laughing is normal, but it's probably time we had a little heart-to-heart chat. Have a seat.

I feel compelled to open up to you about about a recent Lust-filled evening I had. I won't share all the details--a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, after all--but it is important that we have a judgment-free environment where we can safely discuss the temptations we face, those surges of desire we sometimes feel toward people or foods.

I confess, in confidence, that reading the words "cinnamon" and "chocolate" together was all I needed to get hot and bothered. (Scientifically-speaking, both ingredients are known aphrodisiacs. Mmm...nerd talk. Er, I mean, I shouldn't feel any shame if it's natural, right? ) Chocolate, cinnamon...and cherries? My, my! This flavor was shrouded in mystery. And seeing all of those words boldly posted in public, lordy! I worried the town gossip would notice me leering if I lingered too long. I had to act fast. "One nibble and that's all," I thought. But, oh, I was hooked from the first taste! Spicy and sweet, enough to sizzle but not enough to burn. I thought a second taste would cool me down--it's ice cream after all--but the cinnamon kept turning up the heat. With each sensual spoonful, it felt more and more like the flavor was tasting me while I tasted it. And even during the ice cream's soft and sultry pillow talk, my tongue could still sense the bite of the chocolate flakes. I felt like a delicately plucked cherry that had been spanked with a cinnamon stick.

After a night of Lust,
all that was left was a sticky mess.

Would I compare the flavor to a Valentine's Day box of chocolate-covered maraschinos? Or maybe to a cold, chocolaty Atomic Fireball? What can I say and still hang on to a modicum of modesty? I ate it slow. I ate it fast. It was spicy and sweet. Hot and cold. Soft and sultry with a bite. Oh, and there were cherries. I'll stop before this gets NSFW, but believe me when I say that this aptly-named ice cream is a lesson in lust.


* I am a BrAdvocate of taking inspiration from abstract concepts to invent new flavor combinations, as with my own Chicago Blackhawks ice cream.