My sisters and I decided to add a sweet surprise to my mom’s birthday celebration earlier this summer. Many of our family gatherings included homemade ice cream. It was my grandpa’s recipe, but I don’t remember him making it. To me, it’s my dad’s ice cream. And I’m not sure why he got the credit, because he basically ran the ice cream maker. My mom made sure we had all the ingredients and probably measured everything for him. Well, maybe not. Most ingredients didn’t get measured in her kitchen—or in mine.
I’d made ice cream before, but it had been years, and I’d never tried the family recipe. But I needed to test it at least once before the party. I had a chance leading up to a smaller family gathering. And it worked. My girls approved, and their opinions mattered, because they’d tasted the ice cream many times.
It wasn’t difficult to make. It was soothing. It connected me to my past while carrying a tradition into the future. And all the while, my dad kept me company. You see, my mom gave me a cookbook several years ago. She put together some favorite recipes, including handwritten versions, and strategically placed photos to go alongside some of the recipes. One of those recipes is the ice cream; it has a photo of my dad when he was making ice cream one year.
I enjoyed making the ice cream more than eating the ice cream. It was the best part of the process. I encourage you to grasp something from your past and carry it into the future. You and those around you might find it a sweet treat.