When it comes to ice cream, there really isn't much to be afraid of unless, of course, we all scream for ice cream to cool the burning acid a mysterious killer dumped on us while we were trying to run away. But even in that case the ice cream is a cool, comforting, life saving substance. I have probably only been frightened by ice cream once, but is because of that that experience that Brad and Marisa have asked me to to supplement their regular blogly offerings with this frightening tale of cold, creamy horror.
It all began in Erlangen, Germany, in the early part of the decade when I was visiting a friend of the family with my German grandmother. That person was Dieter, an Engineer for Siemens corporation. So while I was waxing my mustache and buttoning my leiderhosen, Dieter suggested something that made my monocle pop out, “Would you like to go to the most popular Ice Cream Parlor in Erlangen?” Of course I would like to go to an ice cream parlor. Germany is dotted with many little Italian Ice cream places that are either run by Italians or Turks, but either way they are probably going to have some awesome lemon ice cream.
The asparagus ice cream turned out to be not nearly as bad as I expected. Imagine cream of asparagus soup but sweet, and not quite as vegetab-ly. The flavor was actually very delicate, I even detected some floral notes. I felt a little like a judge on Iron Chef. So the moral of the story is: If you face your fears, you can gain twenty pounds while vacationing in Germany. Next time I'm going to try their Camembert flavor.