Growing up, I was an inveterate chocolate lover.
Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. Oreos. Chocolate cream pie. And, of course, chocolate ice cream.
My brother, on the other hand, was Mr. Vanilla. White-on-white cupcakes. Vienna Fingers. Twinkies. Vanilla ice cream.
On hot summer nights after Little League games, our parents would treat us to a cone at the Kenwood Farms ice cream stand, just over the river from our home in in Glastonbury, CT. Dad would have peach; Mom, butter-almond. My sister, Meagan, was an orange sherbet type gal. No question at all about my choice: chocolate, with chocolate jimmies.