Still, eight, 10, 12 dollars is an awful lot for a pint of ice cream, which was one of the few staples that, no matter where or how we lived, it seemed we could all rely on enjoying. You can always get someone to pay more for something - in fact, it’s encouraged. With this modern repackaging of Americana comes an additional tenet of our mythical history: the virtue of artisanryĬapitalism is the American Way, too. This handmade’s tale may be the most important story they tell - and sell. That they’re using responsibly sourced produce from small, local farms. That they’re making the brownies in your scoop of chocolate fudge brownie from scratch, in-house. No, they’re not churning ice cream in wooden buckets, but they want you to know that there is care and craft in each and every pint. With this modern repackaging of Americana comes an additional tenet of our mythical history: the virtue of artisanry. Whether their designs evoke the Yankee-Doodle optimism of Norman Rockwell or the hazy, impasto California Dreaming of Wayne Thiebaud, they’re all tapping a kind of bygone patriotic ideal. They’re all selling the same thing: a trip to Bountiful - an Instagram-filtered memory of one’s own past, and a greater, collective American promise. Which will you choose? Will it be a Van Leeuwen, wrapped in clean, modern, Easter egg monochrome? A whimsically hand-doodled Ample Hills? Or a McConnell’s, the epitome of old-fashioned? Walk up to the freezers at Whole Foods and stare at the rows and rows of primo pints. It has countless stories to tell, and anyone can tell them. Ice cream is not the American Dream, not exactly.
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