The Search for Snow

It is summer. More than summer. It is heat index of 105, humidity through the roof, sweat when you just look out the window hot. This morning on the Today Show weather forecast, Al deferred to the national map 'o weather, and all my eyes took in was the one blinking word over the entire state of Tennessee:

"OPPRESSIVE"

Last I checked, weather forecasts were limited to a vocabular including "Partly Cloudy," "Chance of Showers," or even just "Hot" or "Cold." But "oppressive?" That was a first. A word most often limited to discussions of dictators and human rights violations should not great me on the weather map over my morning coffee.

But Al and his map are right, and when the heat gets to be this, uh, oppressive, there is only one thing that can make it better. A snow cone. In all its styrofoam-cupped, drippy-sided, pointy-topped glory.

As an Air Force Brat kid living in Hawaii, I was introduced to the soft texture of true Hawaiian Shave Ice, the endless combinations of flavors, the red stroons (straw + spoon = stroon), the heavenly addition of just a drizzle of cream. The love for snow cones continued in Fort Smith, with the little red caboose stand called Summer Snow-to-Go. I skipped many a 7th hour of high school to grab a snow cone before dance team practice, and no Sunday night after church was complete without one. Shawnee and Waco kept the love going, with snow cone stands on every corner. Cheap. Convenient. Cool. Snow cones have always been the perfect summer food.

Yet here I am in Memphis, and I have come to a terrible realization. There is ONE snow cone stand. One. And it is at least 15 minutes from my house. And it is expensive. And it is not even that good! Reader, allow me to introduce Jerry's...

The crowd in this photo would make you think that this place is something special, but do not be deceived! Jonathan and I have been twice now, and both times have been disappointing. On our first visit, we concluded that they must water down their syrups, because the flavors were pretty weak. (A hunch that was affirmed when we saw their syrups in large glass jars behind the window. Tell me when you have ever seen snow cone syrups in big glass pickle jars?)

And they use plastic spoons! Isn't it common knowledge that snow cones are to be consumed with red stroons?

Feeling a bit guilty over our critical spirits, we decided to give Jerry's a second chance last night. I ordered a blackberry snow cone with cream, but was taken back when they told me that cream snow cones only came in a medium and that it would cost me $3.50. This better be some snow cone!

And that's when I saw it happen. There in the cup was my glistening blackberry ice. It was beautiful. The worker then grabbed a red ketchup bottle, turned it upside-down, and out came thick, gloppy, goop. All. Over. My. Snow. Cone. You couldn't even see the blackberry ice for the layer of dingy white slime.

It was Eagle Brand Milk! I tried my best to squelch my inner brat, but as I dug into the cone with my abomination of a spoon, all I could see were snotty chunks of Eagle Brand in every bite. I couldn't do it. Lucky for me, Jonathan could, so I settled for his Fuzzy Navel and a good pout.

We are headed to Oklahoma soon, and you can bet that I will be stopping at every snow cone stand I see. And perhaps I should start researching the feasibility of opening my own stand here in Memphis? Can't you see it? Changing the city, one snow cone at a time.