may 9, 2018

An early summer memory of growing up in the South involved banana ice cream. My mom and I would sit under a fragrant magnolia tree on the side porch, watching heat lightning, in floral cotton nightgowns, enjoying what we deemed homemade banana ice cream. In actuality, we simply smashed a ripe banana and mixed it with soft vanilla ice cream so the term “homemade” is relative. Continue reading →