During my formative and university years, I often had girl friends who would gather together for a night of chick flicks and ice cream (or margaritas, or both, or margarita mix poured over ice cream). I pretty much just came to those for a margs, as I’m notorious for disliking chick flicks, and I never cared for ice cream.
Yep. I NEVER CARED FOR ICE CREAM.
There are two flavors of Ben & Jerry’s I will eat at any given moment (Phish Food and Cherry Garcia). Other than that, meh. All ice cream was meh to me.
I remember an ad campaign several years ago for a brand of cheese made in California. The slogan went something like “happy cows make happy cheese,” suggesting that because these cows lived in California and had plenty of access to sunshine and beaches, they were happier, thereby their milk was better, and subsequently so was the cheese made from it.
Well, if that logic is true, the cows that produce the milk for Mackie’s ice cream must be getting ninety-minute massages twice a day and eating a strict diet of Cadbury’s chocolate, passionfruit, and aphrodisiacs, then going to bed on piles of silk and cashmere, while Josh Groban and Ed Sheeran take turns singing them to sleep.
Because good crap, people, this ice cream is GOOD.
Each spoonful is like eating a piece of a cloud from heaven where an angel played the harp and kissed a baby before sending it down to earth.
Seriously guys. If you come to Scotland and don’t eat Mackie’s, you are missing the point, my friends. Completely.
This is full of Aphrodite’s tears of joy.
All of the Disney Princesses sing while they churn this ice cream to give it beauty and smoothness.
I haven’t had this one yet, but it probably tastes like Benedict Cumberbatch whispering sweet nothings into your ear.
I know. I know Mackie’s secret.
They use unicorn milk. It’s the only logical explanation. It is Scotland’s national animal, and it says right on the tub – traditional ice cream. Thank you, dear unicorns, for spreading joy and beauty throughout the world by donating your milk to Mackie’s.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to have an intimate moment with my litre of Mackie’s and Sherlock.