I truly think if I could eat only one food item for the rest of my life, it would be soft-serve vanilla ice cream cones. (I guess I'm not ready just yet to try that "Whole 30" cleanse I've been hearing so much about.)
One of the best things about summer in this town is that our favorite little seasonal ice cream stand (which is located directly across the street from our parish church) opens up. And here's the scoop on the way the scoopers do their thing over there: seriously, I don't think you'll find more generous portions anywhere on earth. Hyperbole? Maybe. But take a gander at one of the cones I got there recently.
One day about two weeks ago, after polishing one of these babies off while on an "errands and ice cream date" with my husband, I vowed to him that for the rest of the summer, I was going to order only smalls. (I mean, those mediums are ridiculously big. And gluttony is a sin.) Do you know what my beloved's response was? "Why do you say that when you know there's no way you're ever going to stick to it?"
I've had three medium-sized cones so far, and it's not even mid-June. And I've had exactly zero smalls.
That guy knows me better than I know myself, so I suppose there are more gigantic medium-sized soft-serve vanilla cones in my future. (And the people rejoiced!)