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When I was young me and my sister would fight over who GOT to turn the crank on the Ice Cream Maker. The fun only lasted a few minutes and then we would fight over who HAD to turn the crank. But before all that fun we would stop by the Ice House after church and put the quarter in the slot and listen for the geers to turn and then the ice would magicly appear in the slot. My father would get the ice tongs and put the block ice in a big pan in the floor board of the car then we would head home. Mother had the chore of getting the ice pick and getting the ice cream maker ready. I remember her holding her hand by the ice as she stabbed it where the pieces of ice wouldnt go everywhere. Ice and rock salt and a long time of cranking and it was all ready to eat. The best ice cream was what was left on the paddle after my mother took it out and scraped if off with a spoon. Sometimes we took the ice cream to the church on Wednesday night when we had the church fellowship gathering. To by honest, my mothers ice cream was the best there. Vanilla, Peach, or Chocolate it didnt matter.....
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