Créme de menthe ice cream

I always joke that my inner fat kid rejoices as my external fatkid begins to grow. Today, I craved my Andes ice cream so much, that I hobbled down, hyperextended knee and all, to the cold kitchen and brought the whole gallon upstairs. Okay, the half gallon. And I only ate about an eigth of that. But I wanted more. I wanted so much more. And my inner fat kid was cheering me on. “Eat it! Shove it in your mouth! Flick your tongue over the chocolatey wonderness that shocks your woman-sensibilities with it’s minty bittersweetness.” See what I mean? It’s hard to put it down.