Baskin & Robbins – an ice cream addiction is born

I know this is weird, but –

I wasn’t a huge ice cream fan growing up. We only had vanilla at my grandparents, though my grandmother could be persuaded to open a can of Hershey’s Syrup once in a while. When we went out for ice cream, it was soft serve, that artful arrangement of milk and ice crystals you can still find at the DQ. I hated those little cups with the orange/vanilla swirl and the wee wooden paddle for eating. My mom occasionally bought Neapolitan ice milk at the grocery store. To my way of thinking, it was not worth the effort of scooping.

But my fake teenage husband told me that this ice cream would be different.

It begins

The summer of 1975, Yakima, Washington. We took that yellow Duster 340 over to the Baskin & Robbins. This was a fancy place he went to, because he came from far more fancy people than I did. I don’t know what he ordered, but I ordered Pralines & Cream, probably because I liked the name. One lick of that creamy vanilla ice cream, probably higher in butterfat than any I’d ever tasted, with the caramel ribbon and just the right amount of burnt sugar praline..I was hooked. Hungry. Haunted. I guess this is similar to smoking crystal meth; an instantaneous addiction created during the first consumption.

According to an ice cream historian at the B&R website: Following a trip to New Orleans, Irv and Irma Robbins were enjoying some souvenir pralines at home when inspiration hit. They rushed to the kitchen, mixed the pralines with Vanilla ice cream and a caramel ribbon—and Pralines ‘n Cream was born. It was such a hit that stores all over the country began running out. Advice columnist Dear Abby pleaded in print for its return. Headquarters received petitions with hundreds of signatures. And in Santa Barbara, students picketed local stores until Baskin-Robbins delivered a special production run of the flavor. It has been a permanent flavor ever since.

Ice Ceam Bankruptcy

I believe a single scoop at Baskin Robbins cost fifty cents at the time. So we spent a dollar to get addicted. That was actually a not-insubstantial investment of money, considering the year (1976)  and our poverty (extreme). But we kept going back. I’d serve up some sad little meal like a can of chili with Jiffy corn muffins, or ramen, peas, and tuna. Then one of us would look at the other and say, “Should we go get a cone?” The answer was always yes.

Night after night, we drove over there after dinner and spent a dollar.  But there is always a cost to living like a pleasure-addicted zombies. That month, we came up short. More month than money. We understood the culprit and cut way back. One cone of Pralines & Cream a week. Then we moved to Missoula, and I went on Weight Watchers. That’s right, I kicked the habit, not because I was on a diet, but because Missoula didn’t have a franchise. If I’d been a young woman of entrepreneurial bent, I’d have figured out how to open one.

Reunited and it tastes so good.

My second husband and I lived in a townhouse apartment complex for over five years. One of our neighbors was a quiet single woman named Janis. Her sister owned the local B&R franchise, conveniently located mere blocks away. That got us started going again, that slim connection of a neighbor’s sister.

That’s all it took.

I shudder to think how much money I’ve spent there over the 40+ years I’ve lived in the neighborhood. My kids were encouraged to order birthday cakes from B&R, because they tasted so much better than cakes from the Fred Meyer bakery. The girls liked the cake with the rainbow of cones across the top. The red cone was hotly contested, as it could serve as juvenile lipstick.

B&R was our special-treat place after school concerts and programs. I’d go with my friend Lauren and her kids, a crew of two single moms and five rowdy girls all hopped up on a night out at the grade school and single scoops of rainbow sherbet. I broadened my horizons a bit over the years, experiencing the joy of Peanut Butter & Chocolate, some kind of cheesecake and berry concoction, and Jamoca Almond Fudge. But I always come back to Pralines & Cream.

My oldest grandson loves the place, though we’ve only been there a few times. He calls it Baskets and Robins. Yes. I’m passing on this generational addiction.