Good Morning Campers, and welcome to the July edition of the Ice Cream Diaries. I hope you’re all refreshed from a long weekend full of fireworks, burgers, and Aunt Ethel’s potato salad. You’re probably not really in the mood to work just yet, so why not ease into it with a little ice cream chatter. The last time we spoke, things were just starting to kick into high gear. Well, the kicking is well underway and the screaming is just about to start. Word is out on Mt. Tom’s, and business continues to improve by the week. For those of you keeping score at home, the ice cream tub tally for June was xxx. Not bad, considering technically it’s just my second month, if you don’t count the winter months where people would rather read about ice cream than eat it. I’ve also noticed it’s easier to get people to come visit me now that it’s ice cream eating weather. I’ve gotten cool surprise visits from many old family friends and friend friends. I’ve noticed that although I’m in the shop at least 90% of the time the lights are on, surprise guests usually arrive during my little breaks to sneak away for a sandwich, a milk and banana errand, or a run (note 2: I now run with my cell phone, scary but true). For all of you who I made wait (and may make wait in the future), sorry. Make yourselves comfortable, order up a cone, and relax, I’ll be right back.
In the meantime, let me add some entries to the diary. Had a few scary moments, or hours as it were, over the past few weeks. I’ve quickly learned that the two biggest fears of an ice cream shop owner are (1) freezer failure, and (2) power failure. I’ve now lived through both. As I mentioned back in the kitchen construction days, I picked up most of my ice cream making equipment on the second-hand market from auctions and big scary restaurant supply warehouses. The one unit I had to buy new was the blast freezer, better known to my repair guy as a ‘hardening cabinet’. As you can now guess, that turned out to be the first machine to break. Don’t know what shorted out that wire to the fan, but after a day of stressing over why it wouldn’t go below 8.4 degrees (supposed to go to 30 below, that’s where the ice cream freezing magic happens) and two visits from Bill, my ace refrigeration techie, I was back in business. The good news is it’s the one piece that actually has a warrantee.
The second bit of hair-graying anxiety came this past week during a wicked thunderstorm. A lightning bolt hit a transformer on our street, knocking out our entire business block. Just two days before that, we had a brief power failure which only lasted a few minutes. Foreshadowing of the real fun to follow. That transformer, along with the other four that went out during the storm, took over four hours to fix. The power went out at 4 pm, and my stress was not relieved until just after 8 pm. During that powerless span, all I could do was close up shop, seal the freezers, give Betty the night off, and pray for power. And pace the streets, which I did a lot. In fact, at one point the bartender at the Brass Cat, the bar across the street, came out of his pub full of patrons drinking in the dark and said, ‘Hey, you wanna come in for a beer instead of pacing the streets endlessly?’ I can just imagine all his regulars sitting on their barstools, sipping Bud longnecks, wondering when that stressed out ice cream maker who was walking by the window every 15 minutes would have a complete meltdown. The happy ending is that no ice cream was lost. According to Dad the food bacteriologist, I have a good 6 – 8 hours before good ice cream goes bad. As you know, I do have spoilage insurance, so aside from a pretty big deductible, it wasn’t about the money as much as the daunting thought of having to make 56 tubs of ice cream and a dozen ice cream cakes to restock three soupy freezers. And I used to think thunderstorms were fun.
So now that I’ve got all the bad news out of the way, let’s move on to the good stuff that’s happened, and there has been plenty. It’s pretty satisfying to see the place full of people on most nights, especially during the weekends. The ice cream is getting rave reviews, which has spawned a lot of cost-effective word-of-mouth advertising around town. I’ve got a bunch of new regular customers, even a few who stop in just about every night. ‘Guests’ linger and socialize with their friends. Regulars like Tom and Alma, who turned out to be the parents of my insurance agent (small town it is), seem to really enjoy coming in, trying one of my new flavors (with the help of Dad, the ice cream samurai), and greeting friends at the door (they seem to know everyone). A few days ago, I started to get concerned because they’d missed a few nights. The next time they were in, I told them I was worried about them and to be sure to call me if they weren’t going to be in for a while. I gave them a Mt. Tom’s Homemade Ice Cream fridge magnet with my phone number. They laughed and went back to their watermelon sherbets.
It’s definitely more fun to go the bank on Monday mornings now. In fact, after the rail trail grand opening festival, I had to take my deposit in a cash box instead of my usual little blue zipper bag. That deposit was more than all 18 trips during the first six weeks I was in business. Which brings me to the Rail trail event. It was the official ribbon cutting for the new bike trail in town. Ten years in the making, the trail is beautiful. Smooth for rollerblading. Runs behind the mills and through fields, forests, streams, and fishing holes. In addition to the ribbon cutting for that, they had live music all afternoon and featured a ‘taste of Easthampton’ which included food booths from many of the town’s restaurants (and one ice cream shop). I picked up a free portable freezer loaner from one of my dairy suppliers. Just had to put a blanket over the ‘Bliss Ice Cream’ sign on it. Beautiful warm day. I had a line 20 deep for most of the eight hours of the festival. Had to go back to the shop three times for more tubs of ice cream. My friends Chris and Tom stopped by and saw me sweating it out (with my buddy Ken, you remember him from the tabletop expo. The guy who works for beer). They offered their assistance. I stopped scooping just long enough to say, ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about it.’ I guess my expression told another story. Next thing I knew, Chris grabbed a scoop and started digging into the cashew turtle. I barked out a few requests for Tom, and he was off to the shop to pick up more ice cream and quarters. By the time the dust settled, we’d scooped over 50 gallons of ice cream, and I was in the beginning stages of carpel tunnel. And sporting one Popeye-looking forearm. Ran out of ice cream at 6:50 pm, just 10 minutes before the end. Not bad. Thanks a lot to Ken, Chris, and Tom for jumping right in to help me make a big bang (and a few bucks) at the festival. A few people later that week came into the shop and said, ‘I heard you scooped 21 tubs of ice cream that day’. Seems they used my ‘success story’ at the committee’s review meeting the next day. Here’s to hoping it becomes an annual event!
As I started to mention, I’ve added a ‘Flavor of the Week’ to the 28 regulars. So far, we’ve done Blueberry, Peach, Watermelon Sherbet, and Snickers. On deck are Coconut, Swiss Chocolate Almond, Mango Sherbet, Strawberry Cheesecake, Rum Raisin, and Bubble Gum. Any of those put you over the edge to come for a visit??
My scooping crew is working out well. I added one more scooper, Kate, bringing the total to five. Her initiation was fireworks night last Saturday. The night when 20,000 people descended on little Eho to catch the best fireworks in the Valley. Two summers-worth of scooping experience made her a quick study and by the time the big post-fireworks rush hit, she was a pro. I’m hoping she’ll stay around after most of the others go off to college or back to high school. Not sure if my 7 bucks an hour plus tips will make much of a dent in her $38K a year college bills, but it all helps I suppose.
Speaking of Eho, I heard an interesting story the other day about my new little hometown. I can’t validate if it’s true, but I’m going to tell you anyway. It seems that the little valley town of Easthampton, with the short but stout Mt. Tom just to the East may have been the inspiration for that classic holiday tale, ‘How The Grinch Stole Christmas’. As you may or may not know, Dr. Seuss was from nearby Springfield, Massachusetts. If you look down on Eho from atop Mt. Tom, especially at night, you will agree the idea is not inconceivable. Just add a mean old green guy, change the name to Whoville and throw in kids with big heads and rhyming conversations. Don’t know if it’s true, and to be honest, it doesn’t really matter that much. It’s just a fun story to tell now. Perhaps someday people will wonder if Rudy ever really existed…
Which brings me to, of course, our jet-black feathered friend, Root Beer Rudy. Just as I thought this was going to be the month I ran out of material to be able to include him, much to my delight, there he was. He wasn’t sitting with his lovely lady friends, or his Goth buddies, or even his old regular chum, ‘full pint’. No, this time he was with his family. Mom and Dad Rudy, along with brother Rudy Junior. As his folks looked up at the menu board on the wall, I instinctively prepared a Root Beer float with IBC from the bottle and put it in front of Rudy, who’d already made himself comfortable at the counter. You should have seen the look of disbelief on his parents’ faces. Mom seemed a bit horrified by the mental math in her head of how often one had to go to an ice cream shop to be served their ‘usual’ without having to ask for it. Dad appeared more amused than anything, and dare I say, a little proud of his young buck. A bit later I looked over at R. B. Rudy as he enjoyed his cocktail. He wore a smile of contentment for in that moment he was king of the family, and they all knew it.
Well, that ought to do it for another installment. As you might guess, things have gotten much busier all around. A lot more to think about, more cones and cups to order and more often. The cat doesn’t see as much of me these days, but I am still managing to sneak in a Miller High Life or two with my wacky neighbors, Chandler, Ross, Rachel, and Phoebe. Which reminds me, I think it’s that time right now…
Until next time,
Jim
the original ice cream diaries 