Orange Memories

Ice cream, milk, blossoms, oh my!

Passing the young to the old - JME Film Photography 35mm

My grandpa is the king of “somethin’ sweet”. I can always count on a frostbitten treat being given to me from the back of the freezer. At half his height, I’d plea for an ice cream while stretching up as high as I could on my tippie toes. He’d oblige with his perfect smile that lifted his glasses slightly. Pulling open the tiny tundra to reveal a treat wrapped in thin white paper. One for me. One for my little brother. One for him to share with my grandmother.

With overwhelming glee I’d thank him and plop down in those squeaky, wooden chairs with worn upholstery. Carefully peeling the wrapper back to unveil the highlight of my day. This is no fever dream. It’s an orange dream. A midday summer’s dream. A rectangle of creamy vanilla ice cream dipped perfectly into some orange ice cream. Supported by a wooden stick destined to be sticky and bare in just a few minutes. A flavor combination that will forever invoke these joyful moments with my family. Memories thankfully stored deep in the terrain of my tastebuds.

God, I miss those days.

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There’s two reasons to risk it all in the tiny parking lot of Midtown Market, chicken salad and orange milk. I have no idea how long this store has existed but I can tell you at least longer than 28 years that I’ve been alive. There’s a unique scent inside that the wood floorboards retain. Honestly, I find it comical that there’s carts given how narrow the aisles are. We typically just go to the right side, repeating “excuse me” countless times until we reach the refrigerator section. The whole time, I’m saying a silent prayer that my milk is there. Yes it is MY milk.

Spotted in Kroger, Charlottesville, VA 2024!!!

If you’ve never had orange milk before, I’m sorry but you haven’t experienced enlightenment yet. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch but hear me out. It’s not acidic like orange juice. It’s better than just strawberry or chocolate milk. It’s ORANGE MILK. It truly tastes like the straight A, lead singer in every play, volunteers every weekend golden child birthed from an orange and milk. It’s like a liquid form of the ice cream. It requires sheer willpower to not consume in one weekend. Maybe that’s where I learned discipline and restraint? My 10 year old self internally coaching myself to pace having my favorite beverage every day. It’s truly unfair that what the farming industry does to cows and that I’m allergic to dairy. An alternative must be made. Maybe that’s my calling…

Ugh, I am such a small town girl.

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Can you imagine living to 90 years old? Years ago when we were just boyfriend and girlfriend, I was invited to celebrate Michael’s grandmother’s 90th birthday. We were like 8 months into our relationship. Anytime I am around his grandma, she is always extremely kind and easy to be around. So of course I’d subject myself to a huge family gathering of folks I’d forget whose name is who.

We pulled into the parking lot of their home church. I’ve never been inside of a Presbyterian church so I was at the very least interested in what kind of stained glass art they’d have surrounding the sanctuary. Inside were a few tables aligned last supper style, decorated with lots of southern delicacies. I couldn’t eat anything but raw fruits and veggies as the only vegan attending. I’m not particularly bothered by that but this time I felt jealous of this dessert everyone raved about.

Orange Blossoms. They are these little kind of uniced cupcakes? I mean they’re like super sweet muffins? Hard to explain. They are the size of mini muffins but have a cake texture and that have been dipped in an orange syrup. Apparently, it’s her signature family recipe. I’ve since seen it hand written in her textbook perfect cursive (perks of getting married is sharing family recipes lol). Since I couldn’t have them then, Michael offered to make me a vegan version at home. Truly a saint. Because now I understand the hype. You cannot simply eat one and be content. It’s like an eat four minimum in one sitting. I wonder who’d I be if I never eaten one?

Mm, I hope I live to 90!

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I don’t like all orange flavored things. There’s a time and place for them. Apparently, always with family. I do love the scent of orange as well. Most of my skincare have orange based scents while most of my perfumes are vanilla based. I remember now a candle I discovered that smelled like oranges and cream and being heartbroken when I finished burning it. I don’t wear orange however. Too bright for me. Well a rust orange like autumn leaves is wearable. But I’m not sure about bright orange. I do believe energetically I’m a bouncy ball of orange light. If I want to give you a taste of my inner joy, I’d bake you an orange cake with vanilla buttercream. Hopefully that’ll convince you to fall in love with those flavors too. And if you don’t, well, you’re wrong sweetie!!!

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Q&A

Email me answers at withcarrington@gmail.com or comment in Substack!

• Have you ever had these treats?

• Any hyper-specific treats from your childhood that you miss?

• Is there any color you don’t wear?

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Hyphenate

I just want to share my three favorite food writers here on Substack:

Alicia Kennedy

How Do You Eat? No. 1

Jack McNulty

Seeking Ancient Secrets to Making Ethiopian Injera

Anna Muckerman

Dig into Sri Lankan food 🥥

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