Injustice! Oh, and Idol Ice Cream.

I am SO MAD. My mother-clucking DVR DID NOT RECORD AMERICAN IDOL!

I got home in the last 11 minutes. While realizing in horror that my recordings had gone tragically amiss, I frantically fumbled with the remote and flipped it on. And just then, the 16-year-old chick from American Juniors or whatever was screaming ,"I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU EXPECT FROM ME!" at Simon. Such good TV!!  Arrrrrrrrgh. Why can't my cable equipment just WORK properly? I feel so, so alone. So very cold in this world.

Since Bright House mercilessly stripped Idol from my quivering hands tonight, I will try to fill the void by blogging about something Idol related: Edy's/Dreyer's American Idol Ice Cream!

The product came out last year, and I fell in love with Hollywood Cheesecake - cheesecake flavored ice cream, graham cracker, strawberry.  YUM!

This year, the clever marketers debuted a "second season" of flavors: Cheesecake Diva, Cookies 'n' Dreamz, Mint Karaoke Cookie, Most Orange-inal (sounds GROSS), and One Split Wonder (har-har).

I tried Cheesecake Diva, and was sorta disappointed. The cheesecake ice cream had an odd aftertaste, but the chunks of brownies and chocolate swirl were yumtastic.  Still, last year's cheesecake flav was way hotter. I think it had to do with the buttery chunks of pie crust.

I haven't tried others yet, but here's the gimmick - you're supposed to vote for your favorite at the Dreyer's web site. You could win tix to the finale! You'll be greeted by a picture of Melinda Doolittle from last season, and, um, "That Kid Who Dresses Like Justin Timberlake Circa 2004 But Whose Name Escapes Us At Present."

Have you guys tried any of the other flavors? And more importantly, WHAT THE FRIG HAPPENED ON THE SHOW TONIGHT?

photos: AP, Dreyers

The Snack Pack Returns to College (Part II)

Yesterday, during a post about my snacking habits during my college years, I promised a story about the time I got to design ice cream flavors for Ben & Jerry's, which (as I have detailed in these parts before) is one of my favorite snack foods. The story is long, weird, mystifying, hard-to-believe -- and 100 percent true. Here goes.

Back in 2002, during my senior year of college, I took a course in advertising. It wasn’t required for my English degree or even my journalism minor, but I thought it would be a good trade to know, in the event this whole "getting paid to write about snacks" career path never panned out. Thankfully, the newspaper industry has never been in better shape than it is right now, which means I’ll never have to worry about putting my degree to use writing bus ads about erectile dysfunction.

The final group project for my class was to invent a new, fictitious line of a popular brand-name product, then develop a marketing line to sell it: A radio ad, a magazine ad, a billboard, etc.

You will be stunned -- stunned! -- to learn that my group chose Ben & Jerry’s as its brand.

Which means that I once got graded on my ability to invent potential new Ben & Jerry’s flavors.

Now, I honestly can’t remember the names of my groupmates, or else I’d credit them here. But I saved a lot of my own notes and digital images from this project. And now that I’m doing this blog, I have a perfect place to share them with the world.

Ready? Hop into the Wayback Machine, Sherman …

*****

First, to pitch our product, we had to come up with a marketing strategy. Delicious ice cream doesn’t just sell itself, people!

We wanted to create a line of low-fat ice cream, and our initial idea was to play off the theme of fairy tales. We were going to call it "Ben & Jerry’s Happily Ever After" or "Ben & Jerry’s Fairy Tale Flavors." Here -- I kid you not -- are some of the flavor ideas we thought up:

Once Upon a Lime
The Princess and the Peanut
Gingerbread, Man!
Three Billy Goats Crunch
Jack & Jill’s Jubilee

Oh, but there’s more. We even went so far as to write slogans for our print ads. Here are some examples:

“Live happily after every dinner.”
“Losing weight doesn’t have to be a fairy tale.”
“Look like Beauty, not the Beast.”
“And the pounds came tumbling after.”
Or we could show a picture of a spoon, maybe in a wolf’s hand, and underneath it, write: “All the better to eat it with.”

Okay, I’ll admit, some of those ideas were kind of clever. But remember, that was the marketing strategy we rejected. Here’s the one we ended up using:

“America’s Most Wanted.”

Yes. We invented a line of low-fat ice cream based on the criminal justice system. I wish I could remember why we thought this was a good idea. I think we just figured it would give us an excuse to make a lot of stupid puns.

And oh, did it ever! Among our proposed (but rejected) flavors were Raspberry Rap Sheet, Bonnie and Clyde’s Berries and Cream, and Lemon Meringue Lockdown.

Here are the five flavors we ended up going with … complete with clip-art-enhanced artist’s renditions, composed long ago by yours truly, using MS Paint and Adobe PageMaker.

Lime and Punishment: Key lime pie (cool citrus lime with whipped cream swirls)

Al Capone Crunch: Caramel ice cream with rice crisps

Chain Gang Cherry: Cherries and cream

C.O.P.S.: Chocolate ice cream with Oreos, peanut butter and Snickers

Cell Block Sweetie: Vanilla ice cream with sugar cookie chunks

That’s right. “Cell Block Sweetie.” We tried to sell an ice cream that conjures up images of prison love. (Please don’t ask me to defend myself. I had senioritis, okay?)

Here are three potential tag lines we thought up. All are almost too embarrassing to re-type:

“Wanted for impersonating your everyday ice cream.”
“Lock up your diet books and throw away the key.”
“Tip the scales of justice in your favor.”

Sadly, I don’t have a copy of our radio ad -- that assignment fell to another unlucky member of our group, who has, I hope, destroyed all copies -- but I do have copies of our magazine and billboard ads. Want to see them? Of course you don’t. Here they are anyway:

So. There you have it. That's the story of the time I invented ice cream for Ben & Jerry's. I’m not totally sure, but I think we got an A on the project. No, seriously. Educational standards must have been a lot lower back then.

Now, after all that, I’m curious: Of the five flavors we "invented," which would you most like to see become an actual Ben & Jerry’s flavor? It won’t ever happen, of course, but I’d still like to know if you think we were onto something.

Here are the flavors once more, just to jog your memory. And if you have a better suggestion, please post it in the comments.

Lime and Punishment

-

Al Capone Crunch

-

Chain Gang Cherry

-

C.O.P.S.

-

Cell Block Sweetie

Would YOU have bought any of these flavors? Grade me, people. Grade me.

The Snack Pack Returns to College (Part I)

See that sandwich? That's a grilled turkey and swiss with mushrooms prepared by the staff of Grille Works, a.k.a. the Benson Grille, in the Benson University Center at Wake Forest University.

And it's one of the foods that got me through college.

You see, earlier this week I took a field trip to see the sights and sounds of my old alma mater, as well as the sights and sounds of Winston-Salem, N.C., at large.

(Pictured: The author.)

Now, whenever I take a road trip or vacation, it's inevitable that I'm going to sample the snacks and foodstuffs of the region. If it's food that I can't get in Florida, I'm definitely going to take a taste.

But returning to your old college town is a different experience altogether. You revisit your old haunts, revert to your old snacking ways, reminisce about the places you used to drink and eat and go out with pals, and nosh on all the same junk you used to stay up all night eating while you crammed for your next final. Because you KNOW that no matter how great your favorite Tampa Bay pizza joint is, there's no way it can compare with the cheap pies you ordered late at night during marathons of Space Ghost and Mr. Show.

So on my journey to Winston-Salem, I made sure to hit the Village Tavern and La Carreta (all you Deacs out there know what I'm talking about). But the first thing I ate was a Benson turkey sandwich.

Obviously, from the looks of that photo above, this sandwich is a grease-stained coronary waiting to happen. But -- and I don't think I'm being biased here -- it's an amazing accomplishment of sandwichcraft. The cheese is just melted, the turkey is just warm enough, and the bread is blissfully buttered and fried on a grill that probably hasn't been cleaned in years. It was like the perfect grilled cheese, only with meat inside.

I also hit O'Charley's, a chain restaurant that doesn't have a franchise within 200 miles of Tampa Bay. The best part about O'Charley's is the Loaded Potato Soup, which is so good that recipes abound for it online. They also make good rolls. Sadly, for as long as I've been going to O'Charley's, I've never found a suitable entree there. Great soup, but everything else on the menu is an extreme disappoint.

For one breakfast, I went to Bojangles, whose nearest franchises are in Jacksonville and Orange Park. Excellent breakfast biscuits, like the sausage, egg and cheese pictured here (with a batch of Botato Rounds). This one was pretty greasy, but it still beats the heck out of most fast-food breakfast sandwiches you're likely to find in Tampa Bay.

(I also hit Krispy Kreme, because Winston-Salem is the home of the legendary doughnuttery. But you can get KK's around here. So let's skip that batch of hot glazed wonderment.)

I often wish there was an O'Charley's or a Bojangles in this area (same with White Castle), though I recognize that those foods taste a lot better when you can only get them on special occasions, like vacations. Such is life.

But back to the Benson turkey sandwich. I'd so so far as to say that Benson sandwiches were one of the foods that helped get me through college -- thanks in no small part to the fact that the college newspaper office was in the same building, and who wants to trek outside at 10 p.m. in the middle of February to get something at another cafeteria.

Here's a breakdown of ...

FIVE TRULY UNHEALTHY SNACKS THAT HELPED GET ME THROUGH COLLEGE:

1. Benson sandwiches. 'Nuff said.

2. Pizza Hut Meat Lover's Personal Pan Pizzas. The Pizza Hut was in the same food court as the Benson Grille, and it stayed open later into the night, so when I missed last call for sandwiches, this was my only option for a late-night meal. Can't say I really enjoyed them -- they were either (A) doughy, (B) stale or (C) some unholy combination of the two -- but it was all I had.

3. Lunchables. Don't judge me, okay? If I was in a huge hurry, I'd swing by the sundry shop to pick up a Lunchable (ham and swiss, usually) for dinner.

4. Andes mints, Starburst and dark Dove chocolates. I tried to keep some form of candy in my dorm room at all times, just in case I got "the shakes." The Andes and the Doves, I stored in the freezer of my mini-fridge. Mint and dark chocolate are always best served cold.

5. Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream. Because I'm human. But there's much more to say on this topic -- which is why I'm planning a full post on my college relationship with Ben and Jerry's for tomorrow. Check back around midday to read the incredible true story of the time in senior year when I got to design flavors for Ben and Jerry's.

So there you go. Two questions for you to debate in the comments:

1. What were the snack foods that helped you survive your college years?

2. What regional fare (like O'Charley's or Bojangles) do you wish you could find in Tampa Bay?

Toasted Almond Bars, and other lost treats

Over at Serious Eats, Lucy Baker reminisces about the ice cream of her youth, in particular Hoodsies ice cream cups. Baker writes, "What is your favorite, long-forgotten ice cream treat? When was the last time you had it, and at first bite, did it—in that way that only ice cream can—make you feel like a kid again?"

I have three: Flying Saucers (sold at lunch at school; I had to use my considerable powers of mooching to get them from my friends); a particular kind of Italian ice sold at the ice cream truck at the beach in Cape Cod (when you flipped it over, the bottom was this magical syrupy-crystalline texture); and Toasted Almond Bars.

Toasted Almond Bars are the Boo Berry of Good Humor's "ice cream bar coated with crumblies" line (Chocolate Eclairs and Strawberry Shortcakes are the Count Chocula and Franken Berry, natch). My uncle  always used to have Toasted Almond Bars in his freezer, and he'd always buy a box before driving to visit us; I'd sometimes eat whatever melted ones he had left over at the end of the drive. But most supermarkets don't stock them anymore, and I refused to pay 3 bucks or whatever when I last saw one at an ice cream truck. Whenever I'm at Sweetbay, I look longingly at the frozen confection aisle and hope that they'll have started restocking the treats. If memory serves, they aren't overly amaretto-y and may not actually taste like almond at all. But they have a crunch and taste that you don't find on many ice cream concoctions.

So, snackers: What are your long-lost ice cream treats?

Stuff dipped in chocolate is awesome

So last night we were in the kitchen, making one of my all-time favorite Christmas candies: Chocolate Peanut Butter Balls. They're also known as Buckeyes, except in Michigan, where they're known as Wolverines.

We made several dozen, only to realize afterward that we had half a double-boiler full of waxy chocolate sauce left over. And that got us thinking: What else did we have around the house that we could dip in chocolate?

So we raided our fridge and our cabinets for any sign of anything that could possibly taste good dipped in chocolate. Here are our findings.

Banana: Obviously. You can't have chocolate fondue without a banana. It was pretty good fresh, of course. I also dipped a whole banana in the pot and put it in the freezer to make a frozen banana. This wasn't anything special, but it did lead to me trying to impersonate Gob from Arrested Development for about 15 minutes, which was pretty sweet.

Mini Reese's Peanut Butter Cup: Very disappointing. These are already coated in chocolate, so dipping them in more chocolate only melts them and makes them gooey. Not an improvement.

Rainbow Chips Deluxe Cookie: My favorite cookie. I don't care much for regular Chips Deluxe, but for whatever reason, the addition of M&M's transforms them into something completely different. The cookie was okay dipped in chocolate. I liked it, and I'd recommend the experience, but it wasn't anything special.

Parisette Waffle Cookie: I'm not sure why we have this. It looked delicious dipped in chocolate, but it was a little bready and the choco didn't really add anything to it. Meh.

Lance Peanut Bar: As you know, I always like to keep a supply of these on hand, in case of nuclear winter. There's no chance these wouldn't survive. And of course, they were outstanding. The sweet, warm chocolate balanced the saltiness of the peanuts perfectly. It's so simple, and so delicious. Why has no one invented this candy bar yet? Can I patent it right now? Excellent, excellent stuff.

Then I got really crazy.

Orange Push Pop: These have been in our freezer for a while now, and the sad truth is no one wants to finish them off. Push Pops are great if you're in the mood, but otherwise, they're messier and more trouble than they're worth. But believe me when I tell you that an Orange Push Pop dipped in chocolate is ... well, it's delicious. It was unexpectedly awesome. The chocolate froze on the sherbertlike Push Pop right away, and it really, really tasted great. You've got to try this sometime. (The only downside: You have to double-dip the Push Pop to keep getting a fresh coat of chocolate. Not that I, um, did that. Let's move on.)

Dried Cherries/Blueberries: We picked these up at Costco a while back, and decided to give them a spin in the double boiler. HOLY FREAKING SKELETOR, they were outstanding. I'm telling you, dried cherries dipped in chocolate might be the best dessert fondue food ever. The next time you have fondue, you absolutely must try it. We emptied the bag and made a whole batch right then and there. We'll take them to parties alongside our Peanut Butter Balls ... if we don't eat them all first.

Edy's scores again with peppermint

First Edy's brought us pumpkin ice cream . Then apple pie. Now for Christmas, they bring Peppermint ice cream. Yes!

I was so psyched when I spotted this at Publix this weekend. So psyched that I opened it and took a big spoonful as soon as I got it home, before putting any other groceries away. Oh yeah, there's no self-restraint when it comes to this stuff.

It's creamy, smooth, and there are these great swirls and ribbons of peppermint throughout, in ample portions that deliver perfect shots of peppermint without overwhelming. It's satisfying in the way that only ice cream can be, yet the peppermint leaves you feeling refreshed. This totally beats a breath mint.

I realized after I started eating that this is one of the "light" Edy's offerings, so that was kind of an added bonus. But I would have bought it light or not light, because it's the holidays after all! We can all resolve to eat better Jan. 1, OK? For now, let's all live a little!

And this holiday Edy's offering doesn't taste light, which is why it works. Ok, so you've had your pumpkin. Get your peppermint fill before December is over!

GRADE: A+

This post is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S!

I set my expectations low.

The other night at dinner, someone in my boyfriend's family started raving about this Blue Bell Banana Pudding ice cream. "IT HAS NILLA WAFERS!" they yelped, eyes all hallucinogenic.  "It's the BEST ice cream!"  Mmmhmm.  Sure it is.

Banana ice cream?  I pictured a smooth, neon-yellow biohazard, tasting like a million icy banana-flavored Runts.  Surely it would solidify my general distaste for artificial fruit.

So there it was, in the Target freezer case, in a huge rotund container. If it was indeed the saffron toothpaste I expected, there would be a lot of leftovers. And ice cream doesn't ship well to Somalia and/or the troops.

But we went for it. And the girl in the checkout line said "THIS IS THE BEST ICE CREAM!" Mmmhmm.  Sure it is.

*pause for dramatic effect*

OMG. THIS IS THE BEST ICE CREAM!

I was totally, pleasantly surprised.  It's only mildly yellow, mostly off-whitish. And the flavor is more custardy vanilla with just a hint of banana. And the wafers are HUGE and YUMTASTIC.

I'm totally glad I didn't let my skepticism get in the way of falling to peer pressure! Lesson learned, kids. Always listen to everyone else, all the time.

Grade: A

In honor of the banana:

Photo/AP

Ben & Jerry's are still do-gooders (yay!)

Slate has an interesting column up about whether corporations can make money by doing good -- buying fair trade items, paying workers good wages and insurance, etc. There is a lot to say on this topic (which I ever-so-briefly alluded to when I discovered Wal-Mart's Kashi stash), but for today's Snack Pack purposes this is the most immediately gratifying part of the column:

When Ben & Jerry's was acquired by the multinational food conglomerate Unilever in 2000, its social mission — an integral part of the ice cream company's vision since its humble beginnings in 1978 — seemed in danger. Yet the famous Vermont ice cream purveyor has remained faithful to its principled roots. Ben & Jerry's continues to give employees comprehensive health care and decent wages, source many of its ingredients responsibly (as in the fair-trade coffee beans in CoffeeCoffeeBuzzBuzzBuzz), and give generously to charity. Meanwhile, it continues to provide Unilever with hundreds of millions of dollars in revenues each year. It's a company founded on good works that has made a lot of money.

I have wondered many times since B&J's was sold whether they still do all the good stuff they used to. And don't get me wrong -- I would buy Chunky Monkey even if Unilever made them stop donating to charity and demanded that instead of putting fair trade coffee beans in CoffeeCoffeeBuzzEtc., Ben and Jerry personally had to go to the factory every day and throw the beans at crippled stray puppies while hungry orphans watched. But it's nice to know that I can still enjoy the ice cream and feel decent about, even proud of, the company that makes it.

Ice cream smackdown: Apple vs. Pumpkin

After exploding with pumpkin joy for Edy's Pumpkin Ice Cream, I had to give its archrival a fair shake: Edy's Apple Pie Ice Cream.

Here's my main problem, and it's not Edy's fault:  I tend to segregate my dessert and my fruit.  My theory? Why sully up my calorie fest with health food?

So, if I have a choice, I'll have chocolate pie instead of apple. Cookie dough ice cream instead of orange swirl. Hershey's Bar instead of, well, most things.

There are exceptions, of course.  Applebee's has this thing called Apple Chimi Cheesecake, which makes me want to sing an aria. This is probably because it's light on apple, heavy on fried cheesecake, but let's not dither, hmm?  I like Marble Slab's strawberry ice cream. And actual pumpkin pie doesn't count because it's so mushed up and smooth and spicy that it doesn't resemble a fruit/vegetable.

Anyway, I'm insane and neurotic, and I realize this.  So, I cast aside my irrational snacking guidelines and picked up the apple pie ice cream, a seasonal flavor.

It's good.  Really, it is. Especially if you like apples. The base is yummy vanilla, just a like an a la mode dollop, and it's a little spicy. Like Christmas Day. But alas, there's too much genuine fruit mucking it up for my taste. Sorry.

One major plus: chunks of PIE CRUST! MMMMMMMM.  YAY FOR REFINED CARBOHYDRATES!  If Edy's Pumpkin had chunks of pie crust, I'd be O.V.E.R.T.H.E.M.O.O.N. 

I probably shouldn't grade this, because I can't be objective. But, um... I give it a B minus.  Feel free to challenge my assessment, fruit lovers.

Amazon: Add to shopping cart!

Here at the Snack Pack, we love our designer ice creams based on Central and South American culture. Others among us treat chocolate ice cream as its own transcendant form of religion.

I believe it's the exoticism that ropes us in. A chocolate that was cultivated from rare beans in the deepest Peruvian jungle primeval sounds like it ought to knock our socks off. You can't say that about a chocolate stirred by a guy named Frank in Hershey, Pa.

Whatever. If it's a trend, I might as well embrace it. So I tried Haagen-Dazs Reserve Amazon Valley Chocolate over the weekend.

The pint tells the story of how this chocolate came to be: "The fertile soil and lush, protective canopy of the Amazon Rainforest provide the perfect growing environment for the rare Criollo cocoa bean -- the exquisite ingredient that gives this ice cream its intense and nutty flavor."

It's really excellent stuff -- and at an "intense and nutty" $4.59 a pint, it'd better be. But you know what?

It tastes like chocolate ice cream.

Really really good chocolate ice cream; don't get me wrong. It's strong, smoky, almost dark, and velvety, like French silk pie. But it's chocolate ice cream. That's all I got.

Is it worth $4.59 for really fantastic chocolate ice cream? I dunno. I guess. But don't give me all that jibber-jabber about the "lush, protective canopy of the Amazon rainforest." This stuff is no more South American than a Flintstones Push Pop, I'd be willing to bet on it.

But it did give me an idea for a movie:

Grade: A

Lightest pumpkin custard ever!

As turned off as I was by this week's sampling of candy corn-flavored popcorn, I am no quitter, by golly! I mean, Stephanie found the fall flavor holy grail in seasonal Edy's pumpkin ice cream, right?

Well, I am happy to report I found my own frozen pumpkin temple to worship. I just polished off a soft-serve cup of pumpkin-vanilla custard swirl from the new D'Lites Emporium, 1906 S. Dale Mabry Hwy in Tampa. Wow! Totally delish.

I'm going to give this a Grade of A.

And Stephanie, I think this beats Edy's for a couple of reasons.

Trick or treat, eat, eat, eat.

Snackers!  Stop what you're doing and get your cute tushes to the grocery store!  Right now!  Your boss will understand in due time.  Just bring her sommathis: EDY'S PUMPKIN ICE CREAM!

Oh my stars.  It's so good. It's a little scary initially, in that overly food-colored, too smooth to know what's up kind of way... all pale orange like circus peanuts or orange sherbet or Paris Hilton.

But just wait.

I'm a big pumpkin person (not in the sense of being rotund and full-o seeds and stringiness, but you know.)  One autumn, my mom and I went around to every place we could find seeking out the best pumpkin pie (Bob Evans, turned out).

If you're on the pumpkin train, you gotta try this. It's RIDICULOUS. You can taste the pumpkin... the crust... the Cool Whip. It's all mixed in together, like some Willy Wonka dinner capsule.  I can't explain it.

It's seasonal, and according to the company site, available till November. But hey, the humidity is finally subsiding, football has started, stores are starting to stock cute sweaters.  Couldn't you go for some pumpkin luv now?

Grade: A!!!

Cheap creams are made of this

Josh's post on high-test, ultra-exclusive acai-berry/blueberry/Snozzberry/Gummiberry/Halleberry sorbet serves as a nice segue into a story about a recent trip I made to Publix.

I was in the freezer aisle bemoaning the prices of quality pints of ice cream...

Haagen-Dazs Reserve: $4.59

Ben & Jerry's: $3

Haagen-Dazs: $3

Dove: $2.50

...when I saw something that, for whatever reason, I'd never noticed before:

Blue Bell: $1.79

Hellooooooooo!

You don't have to be Dr. Bunsen Honeydew to know that Blue Bell ice cream is excellent stuff. On a good day, I'd put its top flavors up against most other highfalutin' ice creams and sorbets, especially the Rocky Road. (By the way, if you like Blue Bell, mark your calendars for November 16-18.)

So why is it I'd never noticed the price of these pints before? I mean, I consider myself a pretty aware  cat when it comes to cheap food. A buck-seventy-nine for a pint of quality ice cream? Can't beat that with a spoon.

Unfortunately, I opted to go with Blue Bell banana split. And that's where things fell apart.

Surprisingly, the problem wasn't with the banana flavoring, which is an issue that's been keeping us Snack Packers awake at night for weeks on end. The ice cream itself tasted fine, if a little freezer-burnt.

My issue was with the infinitesimal bits of "topping" sprinkled throughout the pint -- bits of cherries,  walnuts, and pineapple so small they all got stuck in my teeth. The cherries and pineapples were frozen, and because I don't particularly like chomping on frozen foodstuffs, I had to wait until they melted in my mouth until I could chew them, which was far less fun than it sounds like.

Also: Pineapple? In my ice cream? Sorry, but in the words of legendary New York food critic Gael Greene: Homey don't play that.

So Blue Bell's banana split was a disappointment. I remain undeterred. As long as I know there's a really good ice cream selling for under two bucks a pint at a store near me, I'm happy.

Which raises an interesting moral dilemma: Are you so addicted to your food of choice that you'd pay two or three bucks more to get it? Or would you be willing to accept a "lesser," but still tasty, substitute in order to keep from going broke?

Initiate feedback ... now! 

Grade: C-minus

Sorbet is berry good (and I am berry funny)

It seems like everywhere you turn these days, there's a new exotic fruit on the menu. Pomegranate is the new ginseng, Smoothie King has a Go Goji smoothie, and now Haagen-Dazs is introducing the acai berry to a freezer near you. Count me in.

Brazilian Acai Berry Sorbet is another of Haagen-Dazs' pricey Reserve line, and it's another one that's probably worth it. With a nice deep flavor somewhere between tart blackberries and mellow blueberries, it's a taste you won't find in any other ice cream or sorbet. It's on the grittier side as sorbets go, so your enjoyment will probably depend more on whether you like sorbet than on if you like the acai berry (which is pronounced ah-sigh-EE, according to the Haagen-Dazs Web site). I find myself liking sorbet a little more in theory than when it's actually in my freezer, I think. Good for a few refreshing spoonfuls, but too head-freeze-fruity for much more. But definitely give this one a chance if you are the sorbet type.

Haagen-Dazs Extra Rich Light Blueberry Cheesecake tastes about as processed as the sorbet is natural. There's a slightly sour, possibly unpleasant undercurrent to the ice cream that I think is supposed to be a buttery flavor. I can't tell if it's part of the cheesecake ice cream or comes from the otherwise yummy graham crust pieces. Either way, it overwhelms the blueberry swirl and tastes of ex-post facto flavoring, like the last thing the ice cream foreman did was to drop a giant scoop of Buttered Popcorn Jelly Bellies into the vat. Consistency-wise the ice cream is nice and creamy, not crystally and airy like some light ice creams. But otherwise, it's a little less than meh.

Acai sorbet: B+
Blueberry Cheesecake: C-

The Snack Pack Field Trip: Disney World

This past weekend, for the first time in maybe 20 years, I went to Disney World. And while I enjoyed many fine meals during my stay there, you KNOW I found time for some snacking, too. So here's a brief review of some of the snacks I encountered during my trip to Orlando.

-- Pepperidge Farm Milano Cookies: On Thursday night, we stayed at a Residence Inn Marriott near International Drive. They welcomed us with a pack of complimentary Pepperidge Farm cookies. I won't go so far as to say that Milanos are the greatest Pepperidge Farm cookies, but I won't begrudge anyone for making that argument. They're always consistently good, and that's got to count for something. Unfortunately, they didn't give us any milk to dunk them in. That's where they get you.

-- Bahama Breeze Bahamarita: At around 11:30 p.m., we went to a Bahama Breeze on I-Drive for a   quick bite and a drink. The drink we ordered was the Bahamarita, a fruity little concoction described as  "our signature frozen margarita with Cuervo Gold Tequila and real kiwi, strawberry and mango ices." In the picture, you'll notice a little cup clipped to the rim of the glass. That's a shot of DeKuyper Cactus Juice Margarita Schnapps, "for drizzling." The whole thing was sweet -- especially the cactus juice -- and very citrusy, and would have made an excellent smoothie. But I couldn't taste even a hint of tequila. I would imagine you'd have to order about a dozen of these in order to get even the slightest buzz. That's where they get you.

-- Lay's KC Masterpiece Barbecue Edition: In the gift shop of the Yacht & Beach Club resort, I paid $2.55 for a 2.5-oz. bag of chips. That's where they get you.

-- Mickey Mouse Ice Cream Bar: I know I've raved about Klondike Bars in the past, but I'll always have a soft spot for the Mickey Mouse bar as well. Back in middle school, it was the cat's pajamas to drop 50 cents on a post-lunch Mickey Mouse bar from the cafeteria ice chest. (That or a Nutty Buddy.) But they're frustratingly hard to find in the real world. There are the bars where only Mickey's ears are covered in chocolate, and then I swear I've seen some where only the front of his ears are covered in chocolate. (For more information on the epidemic of inconsistently crafted cartoon-character-shaped ice cream bars, click here and here.) In the Magic Kingdom, though, Mickey Mouse Ice Cream Bars are everywere, and it's awesome. It's really the shape that makes them special; the ears are just the right size to chomp. We got two of them, one at Animal Kingdom, and one at the Magic Kingdom, because it was so hot. That's where they get you.

-- Ghirardelli Caramel Chocolate Square: At the Ghirardelli store at Downtown Disney, a woman was handing out free Ghirardelli Caramel Chocolate Squares to customers. This is a policy I can get behind. Unfortunately, the square made me really thirsty. As it happens, the chocolate woman was standing right in front of two giant vats of ice and bottled water. I really had no choice but to buy one -- for $2.75, no less. That's where they get you.

-- Disney Milk Chocolate Toffee Bar: I wanted to try one of the Disney-themed candy bars, and because I'm a big fan of toffee, I chose this one. If you had to pin me down, I guess I'm more of a Skor man  than  a Heath man, but nothing beats the thick, powdery stuff you can get in candy shops or from makers like Enstroms Almond Toffee. Disney's toffee bar features characters from Peter Pan, including The Boy Who Would Not Grow Up himself. Peter, you'll notice, has unusually bushy eyebrows here, which leads me to believe this bar's wrapper was designed during the brief time when Peter Pan star Sandy Duncan was replaced by her understudy, Peter Gallagher. The bar itself wasn't bad, but it wasn't fantastic. It was definitely closer in taste to a Heath Bar, but it was small and also maybe a little too thick. I ate about half of it and decided to finish the rest later, but never did. So I ended up paying Disney prices for half a toffee bar. That's where they get you.

-- The Grand Sandwich, Citricos, the Grand Floridian Resort: Technically, this was more of a meal than a snack. But I'm mentioning it here because, to put it simply, this sandwich was stupid delicious. Ham, turkey, bacon, tomato and some sort of boursin cheese sauce on fluffy, herby artisan bread, served with onion crisps. It was so obviously the best-sounding thing on the menu that I swear I saw at least five other people order the exact same thing at tables around us. That's where they get you.

-- Goofy Lollipop, Sour Apple flavor: I can only assume this is  the technical name for this product. It's   basically a big sucker that tastes like sour apple. It's not very sour, though -- but that's not really a problem. I'm not really a big lollipop guy, but this one was actually pretty good. More sweet than sour. It was very sticky, though. That's where they get you.

-- Firklover chocolate bar: At Epcot's nations of the world, we saw several displays of European candy, and decided to buy one. In "Norway," we picked up a Firklover, which is made up of melkesjokolade and hasselnotter. I thought the melkesjokolade was a little chewy, but I think that about almost all European chocolates. And I could have used more hasselnotter. We paid more than $5 for the bar. That's where they get you.   

Spoon holders beware: Dove is heaven in a pint

The chocolate gods at Dove, bless their cacao-adoring hearts, really need to reconsider the labeling of the Dove ice cream pints.

Warning! , it should read. Consumption of this product will lead to delirium and uncontrollable spooning. And we're not talkin' 'bout your partner! Stopping yourself at one serving is as unlikely as a week without a near-nude Britney meltdown.

Does anyone reading this so far not know of what I rave? If so, read on. Because you have been living under a rock weighed down with gallons of blah Breyer's!! And for those of you in the Dove Club, keep reading and just whisper "Amen" at the computer screen.

Dove, you see, maker of those wonderful little red foil-wrapped dark chocolate squares, makes ice cream. And because it's Dove, it's all about the chocolate. So they top the ice cream - in flavors like Unconditional Chocolate and Butter Pecan Pleasure and Give in to Mint - with a Pow! sealer of ganache that hardens just before they put on the lid and send it off to your neighborhood grocery store.

Oh. Meh. Gawd. The result is sweet, sensational, fire up my sweet buds snackin'! Introduce me to the genius who came up with this idea.

I just enjoyed the Unconditional Chocolate with my chocolate-appreciating husband. He took one bite of the chocolate ice cream - with swirls of chocolate and (yes, more chocolate!) chunks of milk chocolate - and said, "You really need gloves and goggles with this."

In other words, he was ready to dive into the pint. I was, too. The chocolate is rich, pleasantly bitter, like the bittersweet chocolate bars I love. Super creamy. And just the right amount of chocolate chunks. It's almost like a super-rich, not-in-a-cone version of those Dairy Queen cones I used to get as a kid, dipped in chocolate. Until you try this, you have not lived.

So next time you crave chocolate, consider the Dove pint. And just to be safe, buy two.

Grade: A+

Eat ice cream just like the Mayans did

Unless it's filled with other goodies (like New York Super Fudge Chunk), I rarely buy pre-packaged chocolate ice cream. A good scoop shop can churn up some rich, cocoa-infused ice cream or gelato, but the supermarket stuff too often ends up tasting like crushed Necco wafers dissolved in ice milk.

Haagen-Dazs Mayan Chocolate actually tastes like chocolate. The trick is a touch of cinnamon -- not so much that it overwhelms the pint, but just enough to add a bitter tinge to the chocolate flavor. It's the closest thing yet to eating an ice cream version of those $5 gourmet bars of 70-percent-cacao chocolate (which have piggybacked on the organic food trend to suddenly make chocolate purchases a fraught luxury decision -- damn you, Scharffen Berger ! Also I haven't tried it yet, but I bet the Haagen-Dazs Reserve line's Amazon Valley Chocolate will have a nice cacao kick to it.)

Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Therapy seems to be available only in scoop shops now, so Mayan Chocolate is my current chocolate pick.

Grade: B+

Me & Jerry

I know Josh "Green Mountain Man" Korr generally has dominion over all things Ben & Jerry's on this blog-realm. But with all this talk about ice cream around these parts lately, I felt I ought to chime in.

A couple of years ago, I got the chance to interview Jerry Greenfield, who put the Jerry in Ben & Jerry's.  To this day, it remains one of my career highlights, right up there with interviewing Don Levine, inventor of the G.I. Joe.

Well, you can't get more of an expert on ice ceram than Jerry Greenfield (though I'm sure Josh might disagree). So let's hear what he had to say on the matter of good and bad ice creams. Here is a snippet of our conversation from Sept. 2, 2005.

*****

Obvious first question: What's your favorite flavor?

Heath Bar Crunch.

And is there a flavor you just don't get?

You know, I don't understand the popularity of Chunky Monkey. It's banana ice cream with walnuts and chocolate chunks. I happen to think it's very good, but I'm surprised at how popular it is,  because there are not really many banana ice creams out there.

I know you no longer own the company, but how often does somebody come up to you and suggest a flavor?

Oh, pretty much whenever I'm out in public. Because people are very attached to their favorite flavors, and they would like to see them being made. You can't blame them.

No. What's the worst idea you've ever gotten? You don't have to say who it's from.

Ah, you know, people who like bubble gum ice cream. I don't know that it's such a horrible idea. It's a bad idea for Ben & Jerry's. But in the right hands, it would probably be okay.

(The insatiably curious can read the rest of the interview here.)

*****

Fascinating, huh? But that's not all. I, too, am a longtime Ben & Jerry's aficionado. And back in high school, or thereabouts, I read that if you wrote Ben & Jerry's and asked for an autographed picture of Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, they would send you one. So I did.

To sweeten the deal (rimshot), I wrote that if they sent me an autographed picture of themselves, I, in turn, would send them an autographed picture of me. Sounds like a pretty fair trade, right?

Well, Ben and Jerry held up their end of the bargain. Here is my autographed picture of Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield.

And here is the picture, circa 1999, that I meant to send them in return, but for some reason never got around to.

This story is 100 percent true.

The Perfect Ice Cream

Because I am a gracious and gentlemanly fellow, I have decided to let slide the fact that, when creating lists of the top 10 ice cream flavors of all time, certain snackers and foodies among us failed to include Phish Food. I am also willing to overlook the omission of the DQ Blizzard, Cold Stone's Cake Batter, and "zebra" soft-serve cones. (Sometimes the simple pleasures are the best ones, guys.)

Why am I being so generous? Because I have found the perfect ice cream snack.

Drop whatever you are doing right now -- punch a hole in your  computer if you have to -- and run to a store near you to purchase a pack of Klondike Caramel Pretzel Bars.

Now, I could go on a long rant about my grand appreciation for the Klondike Bar; about how during my wayward high school days as an unkepmt Maynard G. Krebs-style cub reporter I bought a Klondike Bar after one assignment and the sticker got stuck on my clipboard and I used that clipboard all throughout high school and college, which meant everyone I happened to speak with during that time probably wondered why the journalist in front of them felt the need to wave a big Klondike Bar logo in front of his interview subjects. But frankly, the story isn't that interesting, as you no doubt realized midway through this paragraph.

(Pictured: The author, age 17.)

But when it comes to the time-tested standard of chocolate-dipped ice cream, no product -- not Brown Mules, not Bon Bons, not the Dilly Bar -- manages to pull the trick off like the Klondike Bar. The flash-frozen ice cream is perfectly creamy, the chocolate is just the right thickness, and even the Klondike's one weakness -- its unconventional size, which makes it a little messy to eat -- can be a wonderful thing on hot summer days.

So anyway, the new Klondike Caramel Pretzel Bar is one of those things that takes a great thing and makes it so much better, like a Ryan Adams track with Emmylou Harris singing backup.

In the history of human innovation, no food-combination idea has been as underrated as the combination of pretzels and ice cream. The pretzels stay salty and crisp, and the ice cream stays creamy and sweet. It's a perfect combination, and yet everyone raves about chocolate and peanut butter like they're freaking Brangelina. (Ed. note: He's off on the pretzels again. Just ignore him.)

The Klondike Caramel Pretzel Bar is filled with a tan, creamy ice cream, topped with a thin layer of  caramel, and the chocolate is chunked up with little pieces of pretzel. There really isn't much to say other than this is the best ice cream bar I've ever eaten. Everything about it works perfectly. And hey, if you don't like ice cream bars, put it in a bowl and mash it up. You've seen how the Cold Stone kids do it. You can even sing one of their stupid, stupid songs to yourself if you like.

I will be nominating the Klondike Caramel Pretzel Bar for Snack Food Of The Year, an award that does not yet exist, but should.

Am I wrong, people? I defy you to give me one good reason why Klondike Bars aren't 100 percent awesome. Do it. I dare you. Chickens. Buckaw!

GRADE: A-plus

Count 'em down: Best ice cream

Beatles vs. Stones. Citizen Kane vs. The Godfather. Last Exit to Springfield vs. Marge vs. the Monorail.

Best-of lists form the debates that define pop culture and give Rolling Stone, the American Film Institute, and nerds a way to order their world. Endlessly entertaining and equally annoying, they usually  add little to the cultural conversation other than a further entrenchment of an ossified canon.

Unless it's a new best-of list, in which case it's perfectly okay! So without further ado, here are my current top 10 ice creams. This list is subject to change and doesn't include late, lamented flavors or frozen confections. Just cartons.

1. Chunky Monkey -- Ben & Jerry's (The gold standard.)
2. Cinnamon Buns -- B&J's (Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough was made so the dough technology could eventually be used for this awesomeness)
3. Mint Chocolate Chip -- Breyer's (Crisp and wintry, it feels like the silvery whisper of falling snow; other things that capture this feeling include slowly breaking a York Peppermint Patty in two next to your ear, and Jack Skellington walking through snow on his first visit to Christmastown.)
4. Vanilla -- Breyer's (Classic. The vanilla bean actually makes a difference.)
5. Oatmeal Cookie Chunk -- B&J
6. New York Super Fudge Chunk -- B&J (The epitome of Ben & Jerry's: more chunks than ice cream, practically.)
7. Pomegranate Fudge Chip -- Haagen-Dazs
8. Girl Scouts Thin Mint Cookie -- Edy's, available September through December
9. Mayan Chocolate -- Haagen-Dazs
10. Chubby Hubby -- B&J

So, everyone out there in snackland: What are your top ice creams?

The holy grail of banana snacks

Jay is right. Of all the artificial flavors whipped up in those New Jersey factories, banana is probably the hardest to pull off. (Pictured: The chemical vat where Jack Napier was turned into the Joker and where I believe artificial banana flavors are made at non-Joker-making hours in the Axis Chemicals plant.)

Dyed an inexplicable yellow -– we don't eat the peel, so fluorescent Now and Laters et. al. should really be white –- these candies, popsicles and snack cakes almost always have a cloying, perfume taste that could only come from some mad-scientist mix of chemicals.

The banana flavor of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey, on the other hand, is so true that it could fool a chimp.

The ice cream has a slightly gummy texture -- halfway to that fourth-type-of-matter feel of Fudgsicles -- that adds to the sense that you’re eating frozen, smoothie-fied fruit. You don’t feel heavy after eating a few spoonfuls like with some other flavors. And the fudge chunks are much more substantial than the usual tasteless chocolate flakes that mostly get in the way and stick in your teeth.

B&J's new Banana Split is basically Chunky Monkey sullied with and overpowered by blah strawberry ice cream and fudge swirl. It's definitely more dessert-y and ice creamy than Chunky Monkey, but the strawberry is no better than your average supermarket brand. I liked this the first time I tried it ... whhheeen it was called Friendly's Royal Banana Split [say in smarmy David Space voice].

Haagen-Dazs had an interesting banana flavor a couple years ago, Bananas Foster. But that's gone to ice cream heaven, and I haven't tried their Banana Split. So if you want banana ice cream, just stick with Chunky Monkey. 

Chunky Monkey: A
(Ben & Jerry's) Banana Split: C
(Friendly's) Royal Banana Split: Not sure if it's available in Florida, but C

$5 for a pint of pomegranate ice cream?

In general, I'm not crazy about fruit ice creams. Aside from Chunky Monkey and a couple others, they generally taste of either Lab-Created Fruit Flavor or canned fruit that's been frozen, thawed and refrozen so many times it might as well be dried cereal fruit. If you want real fruit flavor, get some sorbet.

I don't know if Haagen-Dazs' Pomegranate Chip tastes like real pomegranate, but it certainly has a more genuine, full flavor than most fruit ice creams. I particularly like that pomegranate juice concentrate is the fourth ingredient and the first fruit ingredient (there's also elderberry juice concentrate; Haagen-Dazs gets bonus points for not relying on white grape juice as a stand-in, as is the case with so many fruit concoctions).

There's a very slight tang, like a mix of cherry and cranberry, but it's much more subtle than either of those. It's not an overpowering taste like many "natural" artificial fruit flavors; it's more like drinking wine. It's an ice cream to explore.

Haagen-Dazs would no doubt like to encourage that sort of thinking: Pomegranate Chip is part of the new Reserve line -- "exotic" flavors made of supposedly rare ingredients that are meant to justify spending $5 a pint. But while it's debatable whether coconut and sesame (Toasted Coconut Sesame Brittle) are really so rare as to justify such a premium price, Pomegranate Chip is definitely one flavor worth the extra cost.

Grade: A-

Oatmeal Cookie Chunk

Ice cream is one the greatest inventions in human history –- slightly ahead of the Beatles, slightly behind the bagel –- but it can still get boring sometimes. Too often, ice cream makers fall prey to Taco Bell Syndrome, recycling the same three or four ingredients instead of really putting their wizards to work. There are only so many ways to combine chocolate, vanilla and fudge swirl.