Sunday, July 29, 2007
It's been hot and sticky here in Greenport the last week or so, and I have been dreaming of Black Cows. When we were little, my six siblings and I loved this sweet treat our father made for us on sultry summer nights. They're called root beer floats in other parts of the country, but in Connecticut in the 1960s, we called them Black Cows. I haven't had one in years, so today I gave in to my craving. I got out one of my favorite Block Optic Depression glass tumblers and filled it with vanilla ice cream and root beer. I added a straw and a beautiful silver spoon then sat on my porch swing to enjoy it.
It was every bit as delicious as I remembered . . . . . . .