Since I was a kid I loved Danish pastries, especially blueberry and prune, and I was always ecstatic about ice cream. If I had to choose between the two, ice cream would be my number one choice. My Mother used to tell me, "Maish, there isn't a container big enough as far as you're concerned, for ice cream." Mama loved me to pieces, but when it came to telling me the truth, she laid it on the line.
Well, here I am, sixty years old and things haven't changed. I still love ice cream! My wife knows it, and my two daughters know it. My daughters love it, too; but even though they do, they wind up giving me their leftovers. My wife can take it or leave it.
On one occasion my oldest daughter presented me with a gift. The box was big, nicely wrapped, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it could be? After opening it, I roared laughing. It was an ice cream bowl the size of a small soup tureen. It was white with blue bands on top. In big, bold, blue lettering on the bowl were the words "Phil's Ice Cream Bowl." My daughter knew me almost as well as Mama.
