When of the best parts about summer is ice cream- cold, frozen cream with sugar… yum. When I was a kid, my father would take me to Baskin Robbins. “Don’t tell your Mom we had ice cream before dinner, she’ll get mad,” he would say. We would always order the same thing- two scoops of chocolate fudge ice cream on a sugar cone; extra napkins to wipe away the evidence, please. In the two miles that it took to get home, we would finish our cones. My father would look in the rear-view mirror to make sure he didn’t have any signs of chocolate on his face; then he would make sure I was clean as well. My mom never suspected, but I imagine she was curious when my dad and I only had a few bites of dinner.