It’s A Shore Thing

Ice cream is a crime of opportunity for me.  I don’t think about it often, but if it slinks around in creamy sweetness, I can’t resist.

Since Soda El Crucero kicked me out before I could indulge (silly me for having dinner before dessert, that’ll teach me) I wandered along the beach and found Dos Pinos.

Ice cream joint, Central American style

The smell of this place, like the rest of Puntarenas, is unique. Imagine the scent of a Friendly’s Ice Cream shop combined with backed-up sewage; add delicate Lysol undertones. Yum.

The interior is very New Jersey shore: white tile tables, clanking and clinking prep area, blenders blending, loud soccer game on tv, sun-kissed people chatting happily, the moon’s silvery fingers reaching over from the ocean. All we need is a Springsteen soundtrack.

To order I pointed to a sign featuring an ice cream sundae. Arriving at the table, it’s a lovely thing, with layers of soft, fluffy pink and frothy white goodness, whispering sweet promises of indigestion and stuffed sinuses later in the night. There is a can of condensed milk on the side, possibly a joke on this gringa. However, other patrons have indeed opened their cans and poured it over their ice cream.

El Churchill and a blog entry, por favor. Don't forget the condensed milk.

Vanilla ice cream is on top — perfecto. Smooth and rich, with no need to condensed milk topping. The next layer is a strawberry slushie. A slushie made with large chunks of ice. Okay…an interesting contrast of textures. Which continues with the next excavated spoonful. A lab test might identify this as dried milk, but it could be residual sugar from the higher sedimentary layers.

A theme is developing: a concoction of milk in all its forms. I’m about halfway through, but I can’t go on for fear of a surprise of cheese. Turns out this thing is a local favorite called a Churchill. The Costa Rican substitute for salt water taffy, maybe.

Time to continue down the pseudo boardwalk, checking out the souvenir and tasty treat vendors. Then I’ll head back to my box room and listen to the boss and fall asleep, too full of shore.

About ThesePartsUnknown

I write, I travel, I make art.
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