My day started per usual,with my daily routine (teeth-brushing,picking clothes etc.)
and after a very yummy breakfast (pancakes with hot-chocolate)
I opened my LapTop and like every young person,
I started my daily check on what's going on today starting with FB,Twitter and Google.
So when my Google page had loaded I saw this:
And the curious type that I am ,
I clicked on the pic to find out what it was...
A CELEBRATION OF AMERICA'S QUINTESSENTIAL DESSERT
If it has anything to do with the Ice Cream Sundae, it has everything to do with us. We are dedicated to supporting and respecting the convivial traditions of the fountain and celebrating the pleasures of the Ice Cream Sundae in everyday life.
No dessert could be simpler than the Ice Cream Sundae – a scoop of ice cream, a sweet topping, and the ubiquitous whipped cream and cherry at the top. But icons are never really that simple, and, perhaps more than any other dish, the Sundae is an American icon. Like people, nations are what they eat. More than any other native dish, the Ice Cream Sundae is an essential reminder of the American genius for invention, passion for indulgence, and reputation for wackiness. The French may have given refinement to ice cream with their coupes and parfaits, but it took American excess and ingenuity to create the Sundae. It's as messy and irresistible as democracy itself.
Sundaes are us, and they have been pleasuring our collective senses ever since 1892, when an enterprising Ithaca, New York, soda fountain proprietor accessorized a scoop of ice cream with sweet syrup and candied cherry, then named it after the Sabbath. A sundae is not just any dish, but a dessert that is original, enduring, and authentically American. For well over a century, the ice cream sundae has been a symbol of our abundance and appetite, our ingenuity, and our never-lost youth. In their assembly, sundaes provide an unrestrained opportunity to express our essential character. They acquire personality not only through their combination of ingredients, but through the history that they witness. During the twists and turns our country has taken over the past hundred or so years, ice cream sundaes have been standing by to lift our spirits. After the 1929 stock market crash, one of the few luxuries that average folks could afford was the democratically-priced sundae. During World War II, patriotic "Victory Sundaes" included a Defense Saving Stamp with every purchase, while the Navy commissioned floating ice cream parlors - refrigerated barges with ice cream plants - to boost troop morale. In wartime and in hard times, home refrigerators were stocked with ice creams that, with a dash of imagination, provided the basis for an irresistible sundae.
Following the classic model, sundaes are served in footed, tulip-shaped glasses, filled with scoops of ice cream as the foundation for interplays of sauces or syrups, perhaps the crunch of nuts, and often a cloud of whipped cream and signature cherry. Florence Fabricant of The New York Times called author Michael Turback's A Month of Sundaes (Red Rock Press, 2002) "an admiring portrait of a famous temptation-weaves together sundae history, regional styles, folklore and recipes." Seven years and many sundaes later, Turback returns to his favorite topic and provides what has got to be the definitive listing of 100 versions of the classic dessert - from humble, forgotten relics to dishes that have become popular standards, arranged in alphabetical order and instantly accessible. Ice Cream Sundae: 100 Greatest Fountain Formulas is more than just a collection of recipes. On every page there is a scoop of history, a measure of technique, and a sprinkle of trivia, all in aid of explaining the unique Americaness of the sundae.
Ithaca's Gift to the World
The year was 1892. Ithaca, New York, was dotted with local drug stores, where many a nickel was spent for a dish of ice cream. After Sunday services at the Unitarian Church, Reverend John M. Scott visited the Platt & Colt Pharmacy in downtown Ithaca, New York, for his usual dish of vanilla ice cream -- but on one fateful day, history was altered forever. That day, instead of plain vanilla for the Reverend, Chester Platt dipped his scoop of ice cream into a champagne saucer, poured cherry syrup over the top, and dressed it with a candied cherry. As the two men pondered over what to call the delightful new concoction, Scott propos ed that it be named after the day on which it was invented: Cherry Sunday!
While Ithaca is widely accepted as the birthplace of the Sundae, a few would disagree. Two Rivers, Wisconsin, cites Edward C. Berners, owner of a local ice cream parlor, as originator of the Sundae, and the nearby town of Manitowoc claims George Giffey as their own local hero. Hometown legend in Buffalo, New York, traces back to Stoddard Brothers, the first drugstore to install a soda fountain in Buffalo, selling ice cream sodas for a nickel -- that is, until the day the store ran out of soda water. Uncle Charley Stoddard needed to dream up a new dish in a hurry, so he instructed his clerks to serve ice cream drenched with fruit syrup. Norfolk, Virginia, holds dear to its own unverifiable claim. A city ordinance not only prohibited the consumption of alcohol, but legislated against the growing "Sunday Soda Menace." To circumvent the blue law, it is purported that a local fountain owner added a few berries, fruit syrup and ice cream to an ice cream soda glass, but held off on the fizzy water. The merchant would not be denied. With a snip of legal subterfuge, his “dry” soda became a Sundae. The story in Plainfield, Illinois, is that a druggist by the name of Sonntag dressed dishes of ice cream with syrup, and since "Sonntag" translates to "Sunday" in German, he should get the credit.
Stories have been told many times, in many places, and with varying degrees of believability. A few of the places continue spinning their tales today, and the Sundae flapdoodle may never be settled. What is known for sure is that Ithaca, New York, has the earliest documentation to substantiate its claim as the birthplace of the great American dessert -- an advertisement placed by Chester Platt in the Ithaca Daily Journal on April 5, 1892.