There is not a scrap of ice cream left at Dungeness Creamery or my shop. I have been overwhelmed and overrun by the masses and I stand amidst the rubble of defeat. It all started so peacefully. The weather was remarkable for October; slightly cool but pleasant with a tiny breeze that felt like babys breath on your cheek. As I started out for the bountiful lands of the Olympic Peninsula, I realized that I had completely forgotten to announce our eminent arrival at Dungeness Creamery for the Sequim Farm Tour and cursed the many distractions that have plagued me lately. Perhaps my carelessness will harm the turnout, I thought to myself. The sun said nothing as she gazed down upon me and cast her warm rays across my back. Pulling in to Dungeness, it looked as if the place was deserted; the cows gazed at me with half-closed eyes as they chewed their cud and a light mist curled around the barn. In silence I set up my table and secured my cooler as i waited for Amber to break something. Ten O;Clock. Gates are gonna open now, an elderly man called down to me from the edge of the farm. And then . . . CHAOS! What had been an tranquil farm was instantly transformed into a battlefield as swarms of wild-eyed customers poured through the gates, screaming and waving their cash-filled hands wildly over their heads. Amber muttered a prayer to Freyja, Goddess of Lust and Battle as she rolled another cone while I quickly arranged the display signs in a shield-wall formation. They came crashing into us like an avalanche ordering double scoops, five at a time, mixing flavors in an madmans order that was impossible to keep track of. To our horror, we discovered that the dry ice that was intended to preserve our stocks throughout the day had transformed the extremely dense Pumpkin Lord and Dark Elf flavors into something so hard that it was akin to scraping stone as our scoopers bounced innefectively off of the surfaces. And still the orders came. I want 5 Dark Elves cried one, Gimmie six Pumpkin Lords called another. I want four doubles of Dark-Elf AND Pumpkin demanded a third. Our scoop buckets quickly ran dry forcing us to open the Red Cooler of Depleted Stocks and cannibalize the pints for cones. But soon, even those ran out leaving us no choice but to raid our own beloved Dungeness Creamerys ice cream stocks and hurl them into the gaping maws of the rioting mob. We fought hard. Many cones were rolled, much batter mixed and over a hundred pints were scrapped but in the end, we sold out to the disappointed cries of several children whose tearful eyes will haunt me for many nights to come. My head now sits atop the Pike of Paucity. I will try to do better next time Sequim.
Posted on: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 05:42:19 +0000
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