I am not having my last drumstick for breakfast. I refuse to eat a deliciously accessorized ice cream cone for breakfast. Again.

In the evening, a few days ago, I was experiencing an uncharacteristic craving for something specific, something a lot like ice cream. In consulting with my roommate, an expedition to the 24-hour supermarket was undertaken and before long I was back home with a woefully overpriced (screw you, Metro!) box of four drumsticks in hand.

These things and I go back a ways. They were always the treat of choice in my household of two in which I spent my adolescence. My mom had a particular routine in eating them. I think that all the best snacks should have a method for utmost enjoyment, like the traditional approaches to Oreos or the technique my younger self developed with Peek Freans fruit cremes. Her approach was thus:

  1. Prepare the wrapper by splitting it down the side with the seam. Be careful to preserve any peanut bits which may have fallen off in transit, and use the wrapper as a plate to catch any truant peanut bits.
  2. Eat the delicious chocolate/peanut coated protrusion of ice cream with its caramel core.
  3. Meticulously eat the top edge of the cone while preserving as much of the ice cream as possible.
  4. Use the ice cream and caramel to clean up the peanut bits on the wrapper-as-plate.
  5. Eat and repeat steps 3 and 4 as necessary.
  6. Be sure to relish the solid chocolate-flooded tip of the cone.

While I can appreciate the snack artistry required to pull this off, I had two issues with these steps. The first was that if the ice cream wasn’t sufficiently cold, you would often run the risk of losing melty globs of it on the wrapper. The second being that I tend to be far, far too impatient for this. I just want to eat the drumstick’s head in one gooey bite and then swallow the cone whole, sideways if necessary.

Hm. I think it’s time for breakfast.