Just Say Snow (Cream)

By Taylor Wilson

Some days, I figure Al “Greenhouse” Gore is right. Say in December, when it gets in the 70s, but then, then we have a Snow Cream Snow at the tail end of February. And I have some doubts. I have to think the “inventor” of the Internet and Nobel Prize winner might have been in the greenhouse too long (inhaling plant carbon dioxide emissions or something?).
The day we got a Snow Cream Snow was one of those days where I figure Greenhouse was wrong.
But enough politics, gloom, doom and saving the world via “going green” talk.
What you really want to know is what is a Snow Cream Snow, right?
OK, that’s easy enough. It is a snowfall deep enough to gather a bowl of snow.
Sure, if you get out in the yard and work at it, you can gather a bowl of snow after a “dusting.” But then, what you have to work with when it comes to making snow cream might not be desired — leaves, grass, pebbles, disease agents, etc.
You really need a good drift, a definite rarity in West Tennessee (Greenhouse Effect or not) to make high-quality snow cream.
You need to be able to jab a bowl down in the snow and scoop up all you want before you put the vanilla extract, the sugar and the milk to it.
So there you have it — a Snow Cream Snow is one that leaves actual snowdrifts deep enough to dip snow. (Well, by Taylor’s definition, anyway.)
The other day, we had such a phenomenon, and there I was, bowl in hand, dipping snow.
Prepping to make it, though, I couldn’t help but ponder: “Wonder if there is some kind of law against feeding kids snow cream these days? Is, or would, the Food and Drug Administration be involved? What about the risks of eating something that falls from our skies? We certainly can’t sterilize it in the microwave — kind of defeats the purpose you know?”
Oh, the random thoughts that go through Taylor’s head. With such empty space, I guess there is a lot of room for such?
But I got down to the business of making it anyway and realized I had limited sugar.
So, I made my son a batch. (Oh, the sacrifices we parents make.)
Then I turned to my own serving, but with no sugar left, what to do?
I had no choice but to use artificial sweeteners and that opened up an whole new can of misguided reasoning: Can you make snow cream with artificial sweeteners? If so, is it officially snow cream?
I asked some friends and they all doubted my reasoning, but then most know I’m several flakes shy of a snowball anyway, so they accepted my reasoning or lack thereof.
“What did it taste like?” one asked.
“Oh, I could stand to eat it, enough to get a brain freeze, anyway,” I said. “But if it had been one of those cooking reality shows like “Iron Chef,” the judges would have fried me.”
Truth be known, putting artificial sweetener in snow cream snow (so rarely granted as it is) was sacrilegious and deep down, I knew it.
That night I dreamed I went to heaven (yeah, I know, but again, remember, I was dreaming).
St. Peter was there at the Golden Gate of course.
“Well, hey there, Taylor,” St. Pete greeted me, obviously surprised to see me. “You know you are not getting in, right?”
“Well, I kinda figured I wouldn’t, sins against nature and all,” I replied.
“Yep, you didn’t have a snowball’s chance in… well, you know. That time you put the Sweet and Low in snow cream did you in, all right. We have ninth ring of the inferno, built especially for people like you, and well… the people that claimed to have invented the Internet.”
“Oh SNOOOOOWWWWW!” I said, just before waking up.
So, repent now, I am telling you. NEVER, EVER put artificial sweetener in snow cream.
Snow Cream Snows are gifts not to be granulated for granted with anything other than pure cane sugar.


Taylor Wilson is an editor and freelance writer that contributed to newspapers, magazines and websites for nearly 20 years. He can be reached via e-mail at taylor65@bellsouth.net.