It's a portable pleasure, syrupy sweet and colored in brilliant primary colors, the perfect summer snack. When was the last time you had a Popsicle?
Originally, they were known as Epsicle ice pops, named after inventor Frank Epperson. At the tender age of 11, Frank left a glass of soda water sitting on his back porch with a wooden stirrer sticking out the top. (This was 1905, so stirring the bubbles in unflavored carbonated water was likely the highlight of his week.) In the morning, the water had frozen and Frank was able to amaze his local San Francisco school chums with this fancy ice on a stick. Obviously, it was a much simpler time.
(For a glimpse of what might have happened to the Epsicle if it was invented in San Francisco these days, stick around for the second section of this column.)
Frank patented the "process" of creating ice pops in 1923, with flavor added, and almost immediately sold it to a New York ice cream novelty company. By then his kids — budding marketing geniuses — had convinced him to change the name from Epsicle to Popsicle. According to their website, more Popsicles are now sold than any other frozen treat.
Maybe that's because Popsicles are such a simple snack. It's ice on a stick, with flavors better identified by color than whatever original fruit the artificial chemical surrogate tries to replicate. "What's your favorite Popsicle?" "Um, I like red, but yellow is pretty good too."
Look a little deeper, though, and the Popsicle's extraordinary nature is revealed. Frozen water is hard and brittle, but well-made ice pops have a unique crystalline texture that is an icy revelation. If you lick and suck, it stays firm and solid, for a while. Take a bite, though, and the pop gives easily under your teeth, fragmenting into a shower of soft shards reminiscent of fresh, sweet snow. Instead of a hunk of dense ice, your tongue is treated to the almost instantaneous transformation of thousands of tiny frozen particles into frigid, artificially flavored nectar.
Let the ice pop melt — just a little — and it becomes a fragile tesseract of linked crystals, quivering between solid and liquid. Sure, once you eat down to the birch stick, the woody taste can overwhelm the fake fruit flavor, but never doubt that Popsicles are special.
You can make ice pop surrogates at home. Pour some sugary juice into an ice cube tray (orange or grape work nicely, as does any hyper-sweet kids drink mix), cover with plastic wrap, and stick a toothpick through the center of each cube. There are also reusable Tupperware molds with a plastic stick. The end result, though, always ends up more like ice than pop, suitable mainly for crushing with a fork or dropping into a glass of iced tea or lemonade. This is clearly a case where corporate food is better than homemade.
There are many variations on the ice pop theme, of course — push-up pops of frozen sherbet, creamsicles combining ice cream and Popsicle, juice pops, tubes of Flav-or-ice sold in unfrozen packs of 100 or 500 — but none of them come close to the original.
The only way to improve on the pre-packaged, individually wrapped, artificially flavored ice pops found in the supermarket freezer is, of course, to add alcohol. At about $3, a box of Popsicles is the home bartender's best friend during summer gatherings. I've got a few favorites (see below) but anyone with a blender, a box of Popsicles and a bottle of liquor can make enough slushy joy to inoculate any crowd against the afternoon heat. Here are the ingredients. All you need to do is dump them into the blender and hit "frappé."
Epper-jito
1 box lime flavored ice pops
handful of fresh mint leaves
splash of soda water
1/2 cup of rum
Banana Hammock
1 box banana flavored ice pops
1 very ripe banana
1/2 cup coconut flavored rum
Wanna cool down and heat up at the same time summer? Here's an idea…
I admit it. I found it impossible to write an entire column devoted to popsicles, those six-inch cylinders of frozen joy, without mentioning their use a "marital aid." Florida is hot — so very, very hot — and two bodies joining in the bliss of intercourse can be a bit stifling during the worst of the summer. I know you've thought about it. They're right there in the freezer, refreshing and cool and ready to drip their sweet, sticky syrup all over your …
Before I go on, let me just state that I am a restaurant critic, not a sex therapist. However, I have done extensive Internet research on ice dildos. I have no scientific knowledge regarding the health aspects of using frozen objects as sex toys, so you may want to ask your doctor before attempting anything outlined in this column. ("Dr. X, is it OK if I insert a red Popsicle in my, um, parts? No? Well, how about a bomb pop?")
If you want to use a frozen treat as a sensual aid, you can stick with the supermarket varieties, or make your own. Locally, XTC and The Todd carry molds that can be filled and frozen to create a realistic ice penis (veins and all). I've even found instructions for creating homemade molds of your very own erection, using hot paraffin, and thus making an ice replica of your jimmy. (Now that would make for an interesting afternoon.)
For those of you with a blurred pleasure/pain continuum who plan on using a frigid friend internally, there are important points to consider before undertaking such a bracing activity. Sugary liquids can be unsanitary, especially in women prone to yeast infections, so you might want to stick with straight ice. Make absolutely certain that your ice dildo is completely frozen solid before using, as to limit the risk of shattering while in use. You should always allow your ice dildo to melt a bit before insertion — we've all seen the tongue and flagpole scene in A Christmas Story.
Remember, there are no safety features to a homemade sex toy, so be careful — you'd hate to wait out a slowly melting eight-inch icicle that got stuck inside one of your private spaces.
Or maybe you wouldn't.
Stay cool.
Brian Ries is a former restaurant general manager with an advanced diploma from the Court of Master Sommeliers. He can be reached at brian.ries@weeklyplanet.com. Planet food critics dine anonymously, and the paper pays for the meals. Restaurants chosen for review are not related to advertising.
This article appears in May 10-16, 2006.