I recently came across a sign that read: I’d rather have champagne than real pain. I must have subconsciously channeled its effervescent mentality because I went straight for plucky, unapologetic items with intention; gave myself permission to take a break from my problems; and put the less-than-fun things in my life on hold this week. Full speed, right into the thick of it.
I wore red high heels. Drank champagne cocktails. Roasted chicken in bacon fat. Finally ordered that deer antler bookshelf I'd been eyeing. That sort of thing. To sum up: I went overboard.
Naturally, this included ice cream. Pistachio. Yes, a rich, dense, gutsy green pistachio flavor was definitely in order. So I added a nearly committable amount of pistachios and did not look back. (Those that don't wholeheartedly like pistachio need not apply here.)
Don't spend too much time thinking about this. The whole point is to have a good time. This is precisely what ice cream is for. When people scream for it, they don't do it out of confusion. (Self medication, perhaps.) Mostly, they know exactly what they are getting themselves into.
So the gelato "that once was" is now in my freezer. A wonderful addition to the warmer weather we’ve been having. And a fabulous sidekick for champagne when fighting "reality." Which got me thinking. Not only would I rather have champagne than real pain, I'd rather eat ice cream than face my problems. I realize I can't keep this up forever. But for right now, pass the pistachio please.
Pistachio Pistachio Ice Cream