Sundae, sweet sundae

In a New York penthouse, overlooking the fabulous skyline of Manhattan, three roommates sat in the kitchen. The first discovered that her dream lover was a fluke, the second just dumped her cheating boy-friend and the third got cold feet at the promise of, "This is forever."

In the room, you could hear a pin drop, but on cue, one object was passed around the table: A tub of double-fudge dutch chocolate ice cream. After four spoonfuls each, they hugged each other and climbed into their beds and turned off the lights. However, a fourth roommate, who was not having any luck in the love department, was kept wide awake. She was lactose intolerant, therefore allergic to ice cream. How did she cope with her love woes? She vacuumed the floor.

On the opposite side of the globe, two friends sat on a public bench in a street with a funny name, Karangahape Road. They were eating cones of passion fruit and kiwi ice cream. One friend remarked, "Who would ever think we’d find ourselves sitting on a bench in New Zealand enjoying freshly made ice cream?"

In a theme park, my grandson was tense as he gripped my hand and said, "I don’t like the Men in Black ride, Nonna." But his daddy tried the ride and assured me, "He’s going to like it, Mom. It’s fun and interactive. The capsule comes equipped with space guns and he can shoot the bad and good aliens and get points while a camera takes a souvenir photo." My grandson tried to pull me back; we could always make a last minute exit before the capsule door closed on us.

His dad was right. When my grandson saw the blinking lights, he changed his tune and settled comfortably in his chair. He laughed at every alien he shot; I did too. I was shooting aimlessly at everything in sight including the walls and the good aliens.

After moving to the next ride, he pointed at the dairy kiosk and said, "I’m ready for a Mickey, Nonna." It was a stick of vanilla ice cream covered with a thick shell of dark chocolate in the shape of Mickey Mouse. That was the sign that he was ready to give me a thumbs-up rating. Grown ups also know the meaning of having fun.

Driving back from a day of sightseeing in picturesque Victoria, we were so dead tired that we slept soundly in the car. When the car stopped at a gas station, I woke up and saw a friendly, familiar sign. I nudged my friend and said, "Wake up. Do you see what I see?" It was the most welcome sight for bone-weary travelers: Soft serve ice cream, multi-layered and dipped in chocolate. We snapped back to life.

It was difficult to hide it from my grandson who was advised not to have too much ice cream in his diet. We had to resort to silly signs and a secret language, "Mom, do you like Reina ng Gatas or Reyna de Leche?" If I’ve lost you in translation, it stood for Dairy Queen.

Who would think that in New York there’s a Chinatown Ice Cream Factory where ice cream lovers can line up for their favorite, exotic Asian flavors like lychees, red beans, green tea, black sesame, ube, durian and wasabi? They make their ice cream thick and creamy, not like the snowcone sherbet or sorbet variety. There are no seats in this order-and-go shop but then again, it encourages people to explore the rest of Chinatown with a cone in hand.

"So what is so special about serendipity?" asked my friend Rosette. Apart from Jackie O and John Jr. and other world celebrities who have been inside this ice cream parlor, a film with the same name brought it to the attention of moviegoers. Oprah’s endorsement of its patented chocolate drink called frozen hot chocolate aroused the curiosity of chocoholics. I was determined to try it.

We had to wait for 20 minutes before we were ushered to our seats. The place has a low ceiling and their stained-glass Tiffany lamps are dated. And the frozen hot chocolate? Contrary to what Oprah said, it was not the best iced chocolate drink I’ve had. The ones I’ve tasted in Madrid are far more decadent and wickedly luscious.

In Verona, under the dramatic backdrop of an autumn sky, I had a triple scoop of fresh, creamy softly textured gelato in my favorite flavors: stracciatella, panna cotta and zuppa Inglese. Someone told me that eating ice cream is like having a piece of sky smiling at you; I had the expanse of a nebulous kingdom.

Back home, my local favorite is Arce Dairy and their selection of traditional flavors made from fresh carabao’s milk. Macapuno, mantecado, queso real, avocado, atis, and new flavors like cookies n’ cream and coffee crunch. Six decades of uncompromising quality and now they are exporting ice cream to Asia and the US to satisfy the cravings of homesick kababayans.

Whenever the rhythm moves me, I order "dirty ice cream" made the old-fashioned way in a modest house in old Parañaque in a spotlessly clean environment. It spoils any noble and hopeless desire to keep extra weight off my waist.

When Milky Way restaurant was located near Malacanang Palace, we used to go there for their shrimp kropek and buco sherbet. One time, a handsome boy came walking in, smiling straight at me. I stopped and looked around thinking, "Did he see someone he recognized?" True enough, the smile was meant for somebody else. I dug deeper into my buco sherbet, thankful that I did not make a fool of myself.

Many years passed and a man whom I dated steadily for a couple of years walked into the same restaurant. Our romance fizzled but we remained friends so it was a delight to see him walking hand-in-hand with another lady. He approached my table to plant a kiss on my forehead and I smiled and waved back at his companion. This time, I was red-faced. I wore a wedding band, I was six months heavy with my first child and I was 20 lbs. out of shape. Beside me was a tall glass of buco sherbet. A voice in my head began to chant, "Shame, shame, shame on you."

Milky Way moved to the Malate area before it closed down for many years until I found it one day at Powerplant Mall. Their buco sherbet tastes the same just like the memories of my embarrassing moments which have gotten sweeter and sweeter through the years.

Whether you are happy or sad, sensible or mad, a scoop of ice cream sends a gentle, calming feeling down to your toes.