A Sweet Beginning...

I love vanilla ice cream. It is my strong belief that the majority of the ice cream consuming population would say that, and that it would be universal beyond all national and religious boundaries. 

It is always the first spoonful. As it touches your tongue, your brain registers the sweet taste and the flavor as your eyes close in reflex. And then the sensation touches your heart and soul, and spreads to something more deep inside you. It is very close to a spiritual experience, kind of like reaching nirvana.

The subsequent ones are more relaxed and more secure like the love-making of a couple who’ve been together for a long time. As you empty the cup, a sense of regret along with temptation sneaks into you asking for more.

I still remember my childhood days when ice cream was a rarity and nothing more than vanilla flavored milk, put in the freezer the day before by my grandmother. I also recall how it promptly used to melt in the bowl even as I get into my second spoonful, unlike the Haagen Daaz’s which stay creamy and smooth and linger in your mouth. But the vanilla flavor imprinted in my mind remains the same. 

One of my convictions is that vanilla is akin to what the color yellow is to painters. It may not make an impression all by itself, except to the simple souls like me. To the connoisseur who demands the Van Gogh’s spiral impressions with a brush, or a banana split sundae decorated with all kinds of adornments for that matter, it may not be much. But the vanilla ice cream does fulfill its role there too, by being a team player, just like the way yellow blends with other colors beautifully. It humbly hides inside the many toppings and other scoops waiting to be consumed and appreciated. There is no denying once you get past the flashy strawberry and the bold chocolate, you are almost ready for simple bliss that the vanilla provides.

And what about the innumerable other desserts where it co-operates nicely? Like the warm bread pudding topped with vanilla ice cream, or the molten chocolate cake with vanilla on the side? It even blends perfectly with the Oreo cookies that are from a different race altogether. Not to mention the crossing of national boundaries by pairing with the flamboyant gulab jamuns from home.

I almost feel sorry for the few souls who order “caramel mocha” or “mint chocolate chip” at the ice cream counter. May be they don’t know what they are missing - the pristine taste and the childlike sensation that comes from the simplicity of vanilla. Or may be they are tired of the “plain vanilla”, which by itself is an oxymoron in my mind.

I beg to differ, as I think it is anything but plain. And oh, did I mention I love vanilla ice cream?