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Posts Tagged ‘Orleans’

Wow - if the 80s are back in fashion, then the Ice Cream Cafe's sign is really en vogue

If the 80s are back in fashion, then the Ice Cream Cafe's sign is really in vogue

As I sat on the porch at Ice Cream Cafe in Orleans, greedily demolishing my cone of Peppermint Stick, I wondered to myself if I had been too quick to declare, as I had done on this blog two months earlier, that Four Seas serves the best ice cream on Cape Cod.

When I visited the Ice Cream Cafe, I did so with a bit of childish skepticism. I knew my favorite ice cream place, and this wasn’t it, so why was I here? And when I saw the woman in front of me in line receive her ice cream in a chocolate dipped waffle cone with a topping of gummy bears (making her cone look more like a Pop-Art installation than a delicious dessert) I questioned the sanity of both the scooper and the customer. Gummy bears on ice cream? Is nothing sacred? But it was my turn to order, so I stuck with a standard that I’ve been ordering at Four Seas since the age of three – Peppermint Stick in a sugar cone, and, for the love of all that is holy, please hold the gummy bears. (more…)

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A shot of Meetinghouse Pond

Meetinghouse Pond as seen from the middle of a canoe.

I ask you to picture this: A Connecticut couple drive their shiny new white convertible CorvetteĀ to Cape Cod for a romantic week-long getaway. They are young, healthy, and beautiful. They are on vacation. Life is good. The woman, a bit on the outdoorsy side, suggests taking part in a lovely canoe ride along the bay and estuaries of Orleans. It’s something she’s read about in one of her guidebooks. “It’s organized by the National Seashore, led by a couple of rangers and everything,” she says. The man, slightly less interested, eventually gives in and agrees to go. “It’ll be fun – a new adventure,” she says, trying to be light and encouraging. But once they arrive, and find themselves surrounded by other anxious-faced tourists, then forced to wear musty life vests, and sign a consent form ensuring some (forever unknown and invisible) entity that, yes, they have listened to all the safety precautions recited by the ranger, it becomes clear to the woman that this is not exactly what she imagined. She looks worriedly over at the man, hoping he won’t hold this misstep against her. He looks back, stone-faced and unsmiling. And then, as if to further aggravate what seems to be an already unfortunate situation, the ranger informs the couple that, due to the size of the group (17 people) and the number of canoes (6), they must take someone else in their boat. “Oh, great,” they both say to themselves, silently. The ranger then points to a strange creature – dressed in all black, visible white streaks of poorly applied sunscreen (of some mercilessly high SPF, they are sure) covering her pale arms, a baseball cap obscuring her face. “You take her,” the ranger says to the couple. The creature lifts her head and wanly smiles at them. And so, dear reader, I must admit the sad truth to you. The strange creature in this tale is me. Cast in this romantic love scene as the unwanted outsider. The third wheel in a canoe. The odd man out. (more…)

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