When I think back to the desserts that I loved growing up, my dad pops into my head. He was the one who always took me to the candy shop. We would browse the glass cases for turtles,
seafoam, and salt water taffy. I'd take my time choosing which of the bright sticks of striped hard candy in flavors like raspberry, watermelon, and lemon that I wanted. I'd study the tall wooden tree that contained branches of homemade lollipops in every color of the rainbow . I'd come home clutching a delicate white bag with handspun treats on the inside. Unfolding the flap and reaching inside was always as exciting as choosing the treats at the shop was.
Dad was also the one who brought all of the sweets into the house. Dad and I were the ones who browsed the bulk cookie bins at the grocery store, filling our bag with almond-studded spiced windmills, glazed almond shells, and rings of sugar cookies. Sometimes we'd get bags of soft molasses cookies or crumbly pecan sandies.
Dad bought the boxes of brownie mix and ran the blender for milkshakes. He filled the freezer with ice cream and popsicles. Yeah, I'm not sure that my mom was ever a big dessert person. She still isn't to this day, but she let him (or rather, couldn't stop him from) bring it into the house.
