Why is it that whenever anyone serves ice cream, it must be called an Ice Cream Social?
What if I wanted to eat my Cookies ‘n’ Cream alone? If I wanted my Dulce de Leche all to myself, would that make me Ice Cream Anti-Social?
You never hear about people hosting a Broccoli Social or a Sushi Social. The former is not the kind of food you admit to your friends you actually eat, and the latter is just hard to say, especially with your mouth full of oshizushi.
If you’re going to serve Pizza, it’s automatically a Party. Same with Tea, whether you’re in Boston or not. And don’t even think about serving Chili outside of a Cookoff.
But why is Ice Cream inherently Social?
Maybe it’s that ice cream is a conversation starter. Are you a chocolate or a vanilla person? Rocky Road? Cherries Jubilee? Nutty Coconut is my favorite. It’s your favorite, too? We must be soul mates!
If you couldn’t bond over the Cinnamon Banana or Maple Peanut Butter ice cream flavors, caramel sauce or chocolate flakes might do the trick. You can reminisce about the rainbow sprinkles of your childhood, and if you’re not a cherry person, you can give yours away to someone who is. It’s an automatic Brownie point on a Fudge Brownie sundae.
But why limit our culinary social gatherings to ice cream? Let’s bond over Brussels sprouts. Connect over chicken sandwiches. Blend with smoothies.
If a person wants to eat his Lemon Pistachio ice cream alone in his room, he shouldn’t necessarily be considered Anti-Social. And don’t laugh at the girl who invites you to her Seitan Shindig—she just wants to make new friends.