Dear Ben and Jerry,
I have been eating ice cream for over 24 years, and in that time I have tasted some foul flavors. There was even a peanut butter and jelly ice cream I’d once tasted which actually gave me hives. And since I’m one of the few people who have eaten ice cream and gotten hives, I feel I am qualified to say that your Cherry Garcia ice cream is the greatest flavor in the world, because it does not give me hives and it’s as close to the real Jerry Garcia that I could ever expect to get from an ice cream.
There have been times when, after an unwieldy day running packages, I’ve dropped in to snag a cone and a scoop–or two–from your local flavor dispensary. With each lick my stress would fade away as if your product were consumable aromatherapy.
Oh! How you balance the textures of cream and fruit! How you master your proportions with criminal finesse! The luxury of soft, sweet silkiness! Each dollop is a symphony to savor!
And blast you! Phish Food? Chunky bliss, this is! The sticky goo of marshmallow among a school of delectable fudge Phish!
But still it cannot pray to be the one and only masterpiece that is Cherry Garcia. If ice cream were a revolution, he would be their patriarch.
As long as there are sweaty summer days, when foreheads glisten under shielding hands; as long as a whistler’s tune wraps like a ribbon through a crowd; as long as picnic cloths are red and white, I rest assured that Cherry Garcia will haunt my senses like a long forgotten melody.
Sincerely,
A Fan