Usually, when I write about food I’m talking about something either my wife or I cooked. Some awesome new recipe, technique, or liquidy concoction. Another reason for me to write about food is how it pertains to health, now that I’m in Middle Age my metabolism can’t absorb an entire large super-supreme pizza so I focus a lot of time on eating a little better.
But, every once in a while, I’ll dedicate a post to document an extraordinary, over the top, absolutely delectable indulgence so profound I have to spread out my guilty pleasure across the blogoshpere. This is one of those times.You, see, the day after Christmas, I’m out running errands with my daughter and one of those errands takes us to Costco. Fearing for the madness of post-Christmas shopping and, knowing my daughter’s penchant for stubborness, I pre-empted the tantrum with a promise of Costco Ice Cream if she behaved well. Now, I had never had any food from the little Costco Cafe before, but had heard good things. I’ve certainly seen the pictures on the wall during checkout and the seating area is always full. Figured “what the heck?”
Well, she did great — maybe the best she’s ever done in a store — and, true to my word, we headed over to get some ice cream.
Luckily, there was almost no line and plenty of seats available. A very nice, and highly energetic, Asian lady took our order and we waited off to the side while it was prepared. My daughter asked for a swirled frozen yogurt in a cup and I got a hand dipped ice cream bar (with almonds!). A very busy man behind the counter speedily filled an absolutely GIGANTIC cup with soft serve frozen yogurt and brought it over to, my daughter’s eyes now wide with gleeful anticipation. The man then grabbed a plain vanilla block of ice cream on a stick, dipped it in a vat of chocolate, and dredged it, dripping with gooey goodness, into a pan of crushed almonds. Then, he placed it on a piece of time foil and threw another handful of almonds on top to ensure complete coverage. As he brought it over, I must admit, my eyes got a little watery with this vision of gastronomic greatness…
We sat down at a little picnic bench and tucked in, she with petite spoonfuls, me with huge, honking bites.
Well, the frozen yogurt was a bit of a disappointment. Sorry, but, as huge and beautiful as it was, the taste left a lot to be desired in my opinion. A clear case of quality over quantity.
The hand dipped ice cream bar, on the other hand, was absolutely incredible! It is, in fact, the entire reason I am writing this post. My taste buds are so overwhelmed and my brain still reeling with pangs of ice cream craving that I had to write this post in the hopes of some relief. That ice cream bar may have been the finest example of pure icy creamy goodness that I have ever encountered! Ever!
To put this in perspective, I’ve had a lot of ice cream bars in my life. As a kid, I grew up with Good Humor’s, as an adult I moved on to Haagen Daas bars and, a few years ago in Vegas, I even asked the chef at the Four Seasons to create the perfect ice cream bar for my wife and I (that creation was my gold standard for ice cream bars, until now, by the way). But this cheap little $1.50 ice cream bar from the Costco Cafe puts all of those previous iterations to shame. I was blown away.
First, the thing is huge, so bring your appetite. I couldn’t finish it. Second, it is coated in chocolate. And I mean COATED! That stuff is laid on thick — almost a quarter inch in some areas! — and has the lusciousness previously found only with Godiva. I don’t know if it is pure chocolate or just some variation of “chocolaty coating” (quite frankly, this is a fact I felt better off now knowing, so as to not spoil the overall effect), but it is freaking GOOD. Add to that the solid chunky, some skin still on the pieces, crushed almonds and it was a magnificent icy experience. And, for you ice cream purists, the vanilla bar was creamy, rich, and flavorful without being overwhelming. It was a shining example of ice cream bar base — sturdy, dependable, and complimentary.
Here’s what I’m talking about:
You know you want some… Costco, $1.50.
Tell ’em the Underwater Samurai sent you.