Hipster boys rejoice: not only is gelato European in origin and thereby inherently moodier than pedestrian American ice cream; but it is also made with milk, not cream, and is thereby friendlier to your skinny jeans. That’s right. Crank up your Passion Pit and let out an ironic “woo.”
I know these gelato facts not because of any sophistication in my own right, but because a friendly gelato server at Screme in Manhattan indulged my questions. He also informed me that Screme’s flavors change constantly, and that they are made fresh daily. It was all quite impressive. He was very enthusiastic about his product, and I do love an enthusiastic ice cream scooper. Even though I was actually only interested in something chocolatey and they were startlingly negligent in their chocolate offerings, his enthusiasm won me over and I ended up with a small pumpkin. My friend Nikki and I walked back to her apartment to eat our treats, because this is New York and nothing is convenient. (Also, the shop has no seating.)
The concept of freshly-made pumpkin gelato on a beautiful New York afternoon seemed like a great fall concept. Seemed like. In actuality, it was not-so-great in practice, and this may actually be the first and last time I will ever utter these words: I regret getting the ice cream. I was a bit late for my bus back to Boston (I would soon miss it); I hadn’t eaten dinner (I would soon be too full of sugar to eat it), and I knew I wanted something chocolatey but was eating something pumpkiny. This reality undid the great concept of pumpkin ice cream on a gorgeous fall afternoon.
The moral of this fable, oh Aesop lovers, is to recognize what you actually want. I wanted one of the following things: to get on the right bus home; to eat a nice, blood-sugar-stabilizing dinner; or chocolate. (Any list of things that I want can end in “or chocolate.” Let’s be honest.) Instead, I got some facts about gelato and cardamom grinds stuck in my teeth. I zigged when I should’ve zagged. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I didn’t want to change plans and upset people around me.
But that’s probably what I should have done. The lesson of being unafraid to rock the boat hasn’t been lost on me in the days after my New York travels. I was in NYC to interview for a position that I want in a way I haven’t wanted anything since I was 16 and wanted a prom date. If there were posters of this job in Tiger Beat magazine, I would plaster them on my walls and kiss them before I went to bed at night. Unfortunately, at this point, I feel like I have about as good of a chance at actually getting this job as Tiger Beat poster girls have of actually getting the guy.
So the question becomes how to balance what you want (the job, a good dinner, or chocolate) with what one can actually get (a more conventional job, a pumpkin gelato)? I don’t have the answer. But I know that, in the case of the job, I’m going after it in spite of all logical plans. I know I’m on a tightrope without a safety net. I know. I just can’t help feeling like the alternative is vague regret and some cardamom stuck in my teeth.
Gelato in the urban jungle.
Enthusiastic scooper on the left...pretty scooper on the right.
Nik and I posing with my "conflicting emotions" pumpkin gelato.
[...] was my Tiger Beat poster job. As I answered the phone, my blood pressure was high enough to provide power for 30 homes with [...]