Ice cream is the favored dessert of Americans, so it is fitting to give the homemade version a try on Labor Day.
On average, we consume about six gallons of it yearly. Some of us enthusiastically take up the slack for those who do not quite eat their quota.
Ice cream has the special quality of being a treat for both children and adults. Homemade ice cream seems even more special and has been elevated to the ``gourmet'' cookery category.
Homemade ice cream was a hot-weather treat for us as youngsters, usually made on a day when the ice man delivered a crystal-clear, 50-pound chunk of ice for the oak ice box that was kept on the back porch.
When ice cream was made on Labor Day or when company came or on summer evenings, the ice man left an extra chunk of ice in a washtub, covered with burlap bags to keep it from melting away before the time came to make the family's favorite dessert.
Mother seemed always to know just when we would most appreciate a freezer full of homemade ice cream. When my brother and I came in for our noontime dinner after a long morning of picking peaches under a blazing summer sun and spied the extra block of ice slowly melting into the tub, the afternoon was miraculously shortened by the promise of the reward awaiting us.
I was first to crank the wooden ice cream freezer because the handle rotated most easily before the creamy custard began to thicken. When the liquid contents of the gallon-size canister began to freeze, turning the handle required the strength of my older brother and, finally, Dad's arms.
After a time that seemed as endless as the morning in the orchard, the handle of the ice cream freezer would hardly turn at all. It was then that we children gleefully sat on top of the freezer, with a burlap sack between our seats and the crushed ice, to hold the ice tub down firmly while my father gave it the last few difficult turns that ensured the thickest consistency.
The dasher was at last drawn out with a delectable, firm mass of rich, smooth ice cream clinging to its wooden ribs. It was a moment to savor along with the peachy flavor.
A lucky someone was chosen to lick the dasher; someone else scurried off to get a box of saltine crackers to eat with the ice cream. There was a great flurry of excitement around the ice cream freezer while Mother dished out the delectable summer treat into glass dishes that came in Wedding Oats boxes.
