Prologue: Liz
Iwas ten years old when the best ice cream shopever…closed.
My parents first discovered Chinatown thanks to my mom’s obsession with K-dramas.They found a place that sold Korean food, and right next door was a shop called Snowy Dessert Bar.
Had we gone that day with just my mom, we’d never have tried it.They didn’t have many vegan options, though the tiger-milk tea was made with oat milk at least.Since my dad was with us, we got our first taste of bingsu.
It washeavenly.
I becameobsessed.
My parents liked it too, so we went at least once a week for almost two years.It helped my mom survive her pregnancy with Coral, and even little Jade liked sucking down tiny bites of the cold, sweet, shaved milk, especially when she was teething.
Until, without notice, one day Snowy closed.
It broke my heart—my parents’ too, but especially mine.
I refused to eat ice cream, any ice cream, for years.My parents tried to win me over with a place called Nu Cafe, which had Taiwanese shaved milk.Then they found a place called Sol Bingsu, which also had fun corndogs.They were bothfine, probably, but after being forced to eat a single bite, I ate no more.
Because nothing could replace Snowy.
I literally mourned it.
When the topic of ice cream came up, I always felt sad.When my parents talked about getting noodles in Chinatown, I sometimes snuck off to cry.Snowy Dessert Bar had just beensogood that everything else was a big, fat disappointment.
I knew it then.
I know it now.
No other ice cream will ever compare.
By the time I turned sixteen, my mom wasovermy attitude.“I grabbed some ice cream for your cake.”
“Don’t bother,” I said.“I don’t want it.”
“Well.”She slammed the Ben and Jerry’s non-dairy Phish Food carton, which had probably cost her twenty bucks, on the table and huffed.“It may be your birthday, but that doesn’t give you the right to be a brat.”
Her tone made little Sammy cry, and then I felt pretty guilty.
“I’m sorry,” I say.“Everyone else will probably love it.”Or maybe not.No matter how hard they try, the vegan ice cream’s never quite as good as the real thing.
“Sit.”Mom arched one eyebrow, and she pointed at a chair.“It’s time for you to get a little history lesson.”
“Mom!”I was a pretty good kid, but I was also sixteen.“Seriously?”
“Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”She dropped one hand on her hip.“If you can tell me who said that, you can storm out and blast music in your room.”
I jutted out my lip.“Shakespeare.”
“Nice try.”She pointed at the chair again.
I dropped into it with a beleaguered sigh.“Fine.Just tell me whatever it is, and then I’ll be sure to pretend I like the ice cream.”
Mom was a pacifist, but I swear, I tried her patience.“Alfred Lord Tennyson.”
“His middle name is Lord?His parents really hated him.”I couldn’t help my snicker.
“No, his name was Alfred, and his title was Lord Tennyson.”
