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| - At the risk of paraphrasing grossly, British celebrity chef Heston Blumenthal often speaks in terms of sense memories. He believes that we love our favourite foods as much as we do because of associations with some happy event in our past.
Greg's ice cream confirms and challenges this notion at the same time.
Throughout university, Greg's was my first stop following my last exam of the term. A scoop of his darkest chocolate, maybe something coffee flavoured, occasionally something fruity-a cup provided comfort when I feared flunking physics, and buoyed me when I thought I'd aced English.
Greg's was archetypal ice cream; butterfat delivering pure flavour, the way I remembered ice cream as a child. Others can have their sundaes and toppings; for me it was all about the ice cream itself, without empty sugar or the distraction of random crunchy bits. If I felt bold, I'd turn the works into a malted milk, and remember sitting on the deck in my early-80s short shorts at a plastic kiddie table in the middle of summer, even though outside it was December.
How then to explain my love for flavours like Guinness, or Grape-nut (a horrid breakfast cereal when not consumed as ice cream), or Greg's signature roasted marshmallow? I was never much for camping, unless I was out to impress a girl; and surely there's more to sense-memories than the mere joy of caramelization. Or maybe thw whole damned lot just tastes awesome.
Just go. And enjoy.
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