WIT STOP

Badgered to Try Prickly Pear Ice Cream, Our Author Forms a Plan for Not-so-sweet Revenge

My wife and I, along with another couple, recently visited the town of Florence, which sits on the south bank of the Gila River about 60 miles southeast of Phoenix. It is the fifth-oldest community in Arizona and boasts 135 structures on the National Historic Register, more than any other town of its size in the state. It's also the site of the main state prison. You can enjoy a short, pleasant visit or a longer, probably more unpleasant visit, depending on whether you go there on a whim or a court decree.

There are plenty of fascinating sights in the town, but since we arrived around lunchtime, the attraction that first interested us was a sign outside a small cafe that said "Homemade soup, sandwiches, and ice cream."

The black bean soup that day was excellent. As I paid the bill, I noticed that one of the icecream flavors was rum-raisin. I love rum-raisin ice cream. It contains two of my favorite flavors: rum and more rum. The raisins are included purely for the alliteration. I resolved to come back and sample their homemade recipe.

After lunch we took a walking tour, reading some of the plaques outside the historic homes and buildings. We toured McFarland Historical State Park, which now houses a museum. We walked through the John P. Clum house. Clum was an Indian agent who moved to Florence in 1877. He published Florence's first newspaper, The Arizona Citizen, and also started the Tombstone Epitaph.

When our tour was completed, I suggested we go back to the cafe for some homemade ice cream. My companions wanted to get back on the highway. However, I wantedthat ice cream so badly I offered to buy for the entire quartet, so they agreed to go back to the cafe. They knew I rarely wanted anything that badly.

The clerk at the cafe remembered us from our earlier visit. "Hello again," she said. "May I help you?"

I said, "We'd like some of your delicious homemade ice cream."

She grabbed the ice cream scoop and said, "What flavor?"

I wanted the rum-raisin, but my friends wouldn't let me order that. "Oh no," they said. "You have to have the prickly pear ice cream."

I said, "I don't want the pricklyly pear ice cream."

They said, "You must have the prickly pear."

I said, "Why?"

They said, "Because you're in the desert area of Arizona, and it's where they have pricklyly pear cactuses."

I said, "They also have jackalopes, but I'm certainly not going to order that when it's the flavor of the month."

They said, "You can always get rum-raisin at home."

They were wrong. I've lived in the same house for 27 years, a long time by today's standards, and I've never once been served homemade rum-raisin ice cream in that house.

They said, "You know what we mean."

I didn't, but it was irrelevant. I didn't want rum-raisin when I got home. I craved it now.

I turned to the clerk for support. "What do you recommend?" I asked.

She said, "If you've never had the prickly pear before, you probably should have it now."

Big help she was.

I said, "I've never had poison ivy before, either. Do you think I should strip down to my shorts and roll around in the roadside bushes?"

She changed her grip on the ice-cream scoop so it might be used more easily as a weapon.

My companions remained insistent, and I'm basically a weak-willed individual, so I ordered the prickly pear ice cream.

My wife suggested I order a double dip.

I said, "I don't even want the first dip. Why would I have another one?"

She said, "You can have one of prickly pear and one of rumraisin."

I refused. I don't believe in mixing flavors. To me it shows a disloyalty to one flavor or the other. It's like going to a ball game and rooting for both teams.

I'd suffer through the prickly pear.

It was surprisingly tasty, very sweet with a strawberrylike flavor. I enjoyed it. In fact, the only bad thing I could say about it was that it wasn't rum-raisin.

That evening I ordered and paid for dinner for the group. They had rattlesnake chunks, tortilla chips with extra-hot salsa, and a dessert that I kept a secret. I told them only that it was a concoction that everyone who visits this region should sample.

Me? I had a sundae made with three scoops of rum-raisin ice cream.

It was expensive revenge, but it was revenge.

But if you're ever in Florence, Arizona, try the prickly pear ice cream. It's delicious.