When I was growing up in seaside Cornwall ice cream was always a bit of a treat. It wasn’t as common as you might think, despite the ice-cream friendly sea, sand and tourists. But I still remember the thrill of excitement when the ice cream van pulled into the road, plinking and plonking to a standstill. Everyone would rush out clutching sticky 50p and £1 coins.
There were only a few flavours that really mattered. Vanilla (made with clotted cream), chocolate, strawberry and, if you lived on the edge, mint-choc-chip. There were no exciting berries or sorbets, mango or zabligione. Exotic meant going for a Calippo or a milk lolly. Luxury was a 99 flake. Continue reading
