Memories of summer still sweet

The old summertime saying goes: “I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.”

I’m not too sure I’ve ever done too much screaming for ice cream but I sure have moaned and complained after eating too much of the frozen sweet stuff.

I could eat ice cream every night if I let myself but I try hard not to succumb to temptation that often. Still, as the hot days of July and its Independence holiday rolls around I find myself craving homemade ice cream — by far the best summer dessert ever.

My dad’s family had a dairy and a freezer of ice cream was a regular part of a good number of Sunday afternoons for them. He saved up his money as a kid and bought his own White Mountain freezer, which was used for years and years at my grandparents’ house.

To the unenlightened that freezer probably didn’t look like much but it was pure genius for teaching a houseful of kids how to work together to produce a wonderful treat that everyone would enjoy. Its stained wooden bucket staves were held together by metal bands that showed signs of corrosion. The gear housing often looked a little rusty and the wooden handle had long since split and been taped with electrician’s tape. But its looks were deceiving.

With the stainless steel freezer loaded with milk, cream, sugar, eggs and vanilla in just the right portions the cylinder would be loaded and ice shoveled into the sides with a little water and rock salt a