Today for Wandering Wednesday, I’m going to tell you all about my minor epiphany in the town of Qu’Appelle, Saskatchewan.
Qu’Appelle is famous for being in the Qu’Appelle Valley, which is a little divot in the vast prairie created by the Qu’Appelle River. The town is a lovely little historical gem, with Edwardian houses with wide porches and gabled roofs. It is a very pretty place. E and I went there one summer when he was showing me Regina and its environs, and we had a wander around. I found it quaint, charming, and all kinds of other adjectives that connote how supercilious I felt towards it.
At one point, we saw that the general store sold ice cream. E cannot pass up ice cream. He loves it with a deep and abiding devotion. He might love ice cream more than me, but I am not going to make him choose. So we had to go get ice cream.
Here’s me hoping that it’s not going to be a manky, ice-encrusted gelatinous tub of Neapolitan, in that dusty little general store in this adorable little town.
Well. What did I know? There were about a dozen flavours, including handmade gelato, in a gleaming stainless steel case. They included Tiger Tiger, which is E’s favourite, ever, even though orange and licorice together is an abomination. And – I gasped – Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream. Chocolate ice cream with mini peanut butter cups, like, thumbnail sized, right there in the ice cream!
I had never seen it before, and since peanut butter cups are my favourite, hands down, of all the candy you can buy at the corner store, I had to have it.
It was a miracle. How did this tiny little town have the best ice cream ever? I stopped being supercilious right there. Cosmopolitan woman that I was, MY city had not shown me this delicacy. It was plain old prairie kindness, and I was humbled.
So when I whinge about Saskatchewan, remind me of the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream. Because no place can be entirely inferior.