I love ice cream. I attribute (or perhaps blame is more accurate) this love to my parents. When I was a kid, we all felt such a sense of accomplishment when we got my dad to take my mom, brother and I to go get ice cream after dinner. Whether it was mint chocolate chip from Baskin Robbins or strawberry from Haagen Daas, I was in heaven. And today, each of the two freezers at their house has, at all times, no less than five different types/forms of ice cream. Luckily I married someone whose love for ice cream actually exceeds my own. I'm pretty sure at some point during each of our first five dates we ended up at Cold Stone, and not because of me. Imagine my delight when I later discovered that my in-laws also love ice cream - wow, we're just an ice cream loving family. Seriously though, if Rich didn't like or couldn't eat ice cream....umm deal breaker!!
Anyway, I discovered this jewel of a place during the height of the Japanese Summer. July and August are the most miserable months imaginable here. It's so humid that as soon as you step outside, you're instantly dripping with sweat (attractive, right). One day, as I waited (and sweated) for Rich to meet me near base, I looked around anxiously for somewhere, ANYWHERE that had air conditioning where I could cool down. As I stepped into Chateraise, I literally couldn't believe what I was seeing...there before me were rows and rows of different types of ice cream. From ice cream cups to sandwiches to popsicles to crunch bars to cones, all in a variety of different flavors, there they were waiting to be purchased by me. One step outside however, and I was hit with the horrific reality that anything taken outside the shop (and which wasn't eaten immediately or wasn't packed in dry ice) would become a gooey mess within seconds.
