Big Gay Ice Cream

The title of this post made you want to read more, didn't it? I can't say I blame you. I have a hard time thinking of many things that sound like more fun than Big Gay Ice Cream. If you can believe it, my mom was the one who introduced me to this magical place. (When I say magical, I mean magical. If you want proof, be sure to check out the sparkle-tastic unicorn on the wall, complete with Bea Arthur brooch.)
I thank and blame my mother often for my immense sugar addiciton. The cupcake doesn't fall far from the tree, really. (That's the saying, right? At least that's what my mom told me it was...) As a young child, I remember how she would base our dinner meal around whatever culinary masterpiece she had created for dessert. When it was time to eat, she would round all of us kids up by calling out: "Banana cream pie a la mode tonight!" or "I made five- layer chocolate dessert!", never bothering to tell us what the actual meal was that night. Although dinner was always delicious and healthy, she treated it mostly as a necessary annoyance- a pesky hoop that we had to jump through in order to make it to the REAL reason we were all sitting at the table to eat.
So it comes at no surprise to me when my mother often calls me with the latest scoop on what new confection she's found to satiate her craving of the month (or week or day or hour). Let me say also, that for a woman that lives in a small town in Utah, she is pretty darn saavy when it comes to good sweets. Some of the best things I've ever eaten in this city, I found because my mom called and told me about them. Her sources remain mysteriously unknown.
I'll never forget her calling me one afternoon, while I was on my way home from work, ordering me in an excited yet almost panic- infused voice to "find the gay ice cream truck!" Huh? You can imagine my confusion at such a command from my own mother, who lives a couple thousand miles away. I thought maybe my dear mom had mixed up the wrong cocktail of meds that morning, and perhaps wasn't thinking clearly. There was, actually, lucidity in her madness. This "gay ice cream" she spoke of really did exsist! After a moment of calming her down and figuring out what in Betty Crocker's name she was talking about, I came to understand that there was, in fact, a one Big Gay Ice Cream food truck roaming the city somewhere with really big, really gay, really awesomely delicious ice cream.
That truck still makes it's rounds around the city (for exact location, check their twitter feed) and in addition, now has a mother shop in the East Village (7th St. between First Ave. and Ave. A). It boasts humorous and playful flavors, such as (my personal favorite) the Bea Arthur. Bea is a vanilla ice cream cone with swirls of dulce de leche, dipped in crushed vanilla wafers. Another favorite of mine is the Mermaid, which is vanilla ice cream with key lime curd, graham cracker crumbs and whipped cream. See what I mean? How could you not like this ice cream? Big Gay Ice Cream is where it's at.

My mom, sadly, still has yet to taste this fabulous ice cream that she so graciously told me about years ago. Hopefully for her next visit...