'I'm looking for a vanilla ice cream bar covered in chocolate and almonds. Needs almonds! OKAY? We'll find this. Let's go to a bodega."
So I dragged them down Amsterdam Avenue while loudly vocalizing* my desire for the right ice cream bar, into the first bodega we came across. They had chocolate covered vanilla ice cream bars, sans almonds. No good. KEEP MOVIN'.
The second bodega was better stocked with the frozen spawn of Häagen-Dazs. Sandwiched between some almond-less ice cream bars was my coveted vanilla and almond bar. I have no idea why I wanted one so badly; I couldn't tell you the last time I had eaten one. Bunch of years? Bunch of years x 2? But, unlike revisiting the Choco Taco—which unfortunately tasted much better the first time I ate on in high school than when I tried it again in May, resulting in me never wanting to eat it again—the vanilla and almond bar tasted exactly as I remembered. Which was, really good. A thick crisp chocolate shell studded with roasted almond bits, with smooth vanilla ice cream innards. What's not to like? So simple, yet, so full of win.
I happily nibbled on my bar as we walked to the subway station. And down the stairs into the station. And while we were riding the subway. I felt as carefree as an ice cream-loving five-year-old, until I took that last messy bite—you know, like, "How do I eat this without making the final bit of barely-solidified ice cream covered by that teetering shard of chocolate shell fall into my lap/on my face...oh, I know, I'll just stick the whole thing in my mouth." After that, I was just a 24-year-old girl ("girl," because I have yet to reach the maturity level of "woman") with a naked saliva-infused popsicle stick.
I didn't grow up eating vanilla and almond bars, so I don't know where the craving came from. Maybe one of you can tell me. But I can't think of any other frozen novelty I'd rather have. Except maybe a chocolate-covered ice cream bar shaped like Mickey's head. That choice is purely based on nostalgia. (Sometimes I feel the urge to try a King Cone again, but I'm pretty sure the experience would crush my childhood memories, like the Choco Taco had done. I'll have to appease my curiosity at some point, though)