This is your actual Knickerbocker Glory. You might well wonder why it is the subject of my latest Blog. Well – I went to school in a seaside town in England. As teenagers if we had anything to celebrate (or even if we didn`t) we would head to an ice-cream parlour in the High Street. My it was fashionable! It was before the days of mass television so we were not subjected to pictures of the All-American Ice Cream Parlor but, if we were to imagine one – this was it. Tiled floor and high counter with chrome stools with lovely black leather seats. An array of chrome soda fountains busily shussshing and whoossshing away on the long counter. Lots of polished mirrors. On not-particularly-special days we would climb up onto the high stools and order ice creams. That particular brand had a very distinctive taste – sort of like a vanilla-flavoured frozen semolina (doesn`t that sound horrid?) but, trust me, it was delicious.
On Red Letter Days we would order Knickerbock Glories – perhaps the money wouldn`t stretch to one each but the staff could be persauded to double up on the long spoons. Special spoons that were designed to get the very last scraping out of the bottom of the tall glasses. Straws were also supplied which made very unladylike noises when you reached the bottom. My mouth is watering as I type this!
Yes, sorry you are still wondering why on earth I am writing on this subject.
George, Goosey and I are housesitting in a town in Essex. I trundle into town most days using my bus pass (I approve of free travel!) The bus stop for my return journey is right beside a branch of that very same icecream parlour. Now I have a dilemma – mostly I arrive at the bus stop in time to catch the hourly bus back to the house and DaisyDog – so there is no time to pop into the parlour (so to speak). But if I am totally honest I think I am being a coward on two fronts (a) I am frightened that the ice cream doesn`t taste the same after 60+ years and (b) how many 76 year olds go in and order a Knickerbocker Glory?