Although winter is finally upon us here in Boston, I was struck with the urgent and somewhat inappropriate desire for ice cream after working the lunch shift. I felt awkward about this quest, considering the weather, and was not surprised to find myself alone in the shop. I got myself a GIANT cone (with chocolate sprinkles), and took a seat to gorge myself and watch the world go by. Here I discovered the not-so-secret role of ice cream on a November day.

One by one people young and old popped in from off the street, grabbed a cone, cup, or one of those waffle extravaganzas, and went on their way. No one smiled or jumped up and down - they purchased ice cream as though they were buying their morning coffee, or tonight’s dinner fixings. I was fascinated by ice cream’s apparent ability to infiltrate the busy lives of all of these winter-jacket swaddled folks, and become something that looked like a staple. Never again will I assume myself unique in the desire for frozen dairy goodness on a cold day. It’s true: We all (some more secretly than others) scream for ice cream.