Cookies And Cream Ice Cream Quotes

Number of empty Ben & Jerry's containers: 3 -- two mint chocolate cookie, one plain vanilla. (Who buys plain vanilla ice cream from Ben & Jerry's, anyway? Is there a greater waste?)

No guy in his right mind would ever choose me when there are people like Hana in the world: It would be like settling for a stale cookie when what you really want is a big bowl of ice cream, whipped cream and cherries and chocolate sprinkles included.

Others letting you down is ice cream and cookies compared with the rejection of your own soul. I don’t know what is sadder, expecting myself to fail or being too scared to dream of success.

Mallowmelt turned out to be a gooey cake that tasted like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies soaked in ice cream and covered in frosting and butterscotch

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would not take the garbage out! She'd scour the pots and scrape the pans, Candy the yams and spice the hams, And though her daddy would scream and shout, She simply would not take the garbage out. And so it piled up to the ceilings: Coffee grounds, potato peelings, Brown bananas, rotten peas, Chunks of sour cottage cheese. It filled the can, it covered the floor, It cracked the window and blocked the door With bacon rinds and chicken bones, Drippy ends of ice cream cones, Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel, Gloppy glumps of cold oatmeal, Pizza crusts and withered greens, Soggy beans and tangerines, Crusts of black burned buttered toast, Gristly bits of beefy roasts. . . The garbage rolled on down the hall, It raised the roof, it broke the wall. . . Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs, Globs of gooey bubble gum, Cellophane from green baloney, Rubbery blubbery macaroni, Peanut butter, caked and dry, Curdled milk and crusts of pie, Moldy melons, dried-up mustard, Eggshells mixed with lemon custard, Cold french fried and rancid meat, Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat. At last the garbage reached so high That it finally touched the sky. And all the neighbors moved away, And none of her friends would come to play. And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said, "OK, I'll take the garbage out!" But then, of course, it was too late. . . The garbage reached across the state, From New York to the Golden Gate. And there, in the garbage she did hate, Poor Sarah met an awful fate, That I cannot now relate Because the hour is much too late. But children, remember Sarah Stout And always take the garbage out!

You think you're charging up that memory? Is that what you think? You are going to be so sorry when I dream about my experience of eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream yesterday. Now that was exciting.

Of course, that rationalization didn't work at all. It would have helped if I'd had some Oreo cookie ice cream to eat at the same time. I've learned that self-delusion is much easier when there's something sweet in your mouth.

Does cookie dough ice cream go better with red or white wine?

Mallowmelt turned out to be a gooey cake that tasted like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies soaked in ice cream and covered in frosting and butterscotch.

Raven has always been nice in the same way vanilla is nice but you’d rather have cookie dough.

Did we bring a lunch?' asked Tacy. 'Yes,' said Betsy. 'It's under the seat. There are chicken sandwiches and hard-boiled eggs and potato salad and watermelon and chocolate cake and sweet pickles and sugar cookies and ice cream.' 'It ought to be plenty,' Tacy said.

Life is sweet. Cookies and cupcakes and brownies and muffins and chocolate and ice cream are sweet. Therefore, life is all of the above!~:)

All I want to do is go back to my apartment, cocoon myself inside a cozy blanket, and watch Love Island while eating a pint of cookie dough ice cream.

Foods Uniquely Designed to Screw Up Your Brain Bagels Biscuits Cake Cereal Milk chocolate/white chocolate Cookies Energy bars Crackers Doughnuts Muffins Pastas Pastries Pies Granola bars Pizza Pretzels Waffles Pancakes White bread Milkshakes Frozen yogurt Ice cream Batter Gravy Jams Jellies Fries Chips Granola

Each boat-shaped dish held scoops of vanilla and chocolate ice cream beneath thick blankets of chocolate syrup and creamy marshmallow sauce. Mounds of whipped cream rose on top, with a juicy red maraschino cherry at the very peak. Crunchy cookies poked like wings from each side.

Moderators are able to enjoy a small bowl of ice cream and leave it at that. Abstainers find that one bowl of ice cream inevitably leads to finishing off the carton, and one cookie is never enough. Abstainers tend to do best when they abstain from all sugar for five or six days per week, leaving a day or two for eating whatever they want. Are you a moderator or an abstainer?

…Sugar has become an ingredient avoidable in prepared and packaged foods only by concerted and determined effort, effectively ubiquitous. Not just in the obvious sweet foods (candy bars, cookies, ice creams, chocolates, sodas, juices, sports and energy drinks, sweetened iced tea, jams, jellies, and breakfast cereals both cold and hot), but also in peanut butter, salad dressings, ketchup, BBQ sauces, canned soups, cold cuts, luncheon meats, bacon, hot dogs, pretzels, chips, roasted peanuts, spaghetti sauces, canned tomatoes, and breads. From the 1980's onward manufacturers of products advertised as uniquely healthy because they were low in fat…not to mention gluten free, no MSG, and zero grams trans fat per serving, took to replacing those fat calories with sugar to make them equally…palatable and often disguising the sugar under one or more of the fifty plus names, by which the fructose-glucose combination of sugar and high-fructose corn syrup might be found. Fat was removed from candy bars sugar added, or at least kept, so that they became health food bars. Fat was removed from yogurts and sugars added and these became heart healthy snacks, breakfasts, and lunches.

The stale Oreo I am munching in the cab, with the cookie part soggy instead of crisp, the white center near-gelatinous-like a room temperature ice cream sandwich-is brilliant, but not coming close to quelling this hunger.

The sources, dubious and dubiouser, also recommended missionary position, and she was happy to oblige. Missionary position was, as far as she could tell, like vanilla ice cream: purported to be boring and chosen only by passionless, unimaginative, exhausted people but really the best one. She liked to look at Penn's face so close that it split into pieces like a modernist painting. She liked the length of his front pressed against the length of hers. She felt that people who needed to do it upside down and backward from behind -- or who added candied bacon or smoked sea salt or pieces of raw cookies to their ice cream -- were probably compensating for a product that was inferior to begin with.

Nice,” the clerk said without a smidgeon of judgment in his voice as he rang her up. “I especially like the way you’ve got the entire junk food pyramid represented here. That’s not easy to do.” She had a rack of donuts, two pies—one lemon, one cherry—a pint of caramel delight ice cream, a family-size bag of chips, and now cookies as well. “Bad breakup?” the clerk asked.

knew how I felt, and he let me love him. He wanted me to. He stepped closer to me. “One minute you like me. Then Cam…” Conrad paused. “And then Jeremiah. Isn’t that right? You want to have your cake and eat it too, but you also want your cookies, and your ice cream…” “Shut up!” I yelled. “You’re the one who’s been playing games, Belly.” He was trying to sound casual, offhand, but his body was tense, like every muscle was as tight as his stupid guitar strings.

Maybe we’re feeling left out or defective, ashamed or insecure. The feelings get too big and … for many of us, the fix is to binge on treasure troves of sugar and fat: pizza, ice cream, cookies, cheese, chocolate. For a little while, the chemical relief numbs out the hurt. Hurt? Worry? It’s all shoved deep down beneath layers of chips or donuts. Hidden. Out of sight and out of mind. Until the chemical buzz begins to wear off … and it turns out that the feelings never went away. They’re still here. And worse, now there’s self-loathing and shame to add to the mix. So we punish ourselves … until the hurt gets too big, and the cycle starts again. For those of us who starve ourselves, the story isn’t much different. We’re still trying to escape overwhelming feelings—of being a fraud, not good enough, unworthy, a failure. Instead of indulging in cover-up chaos, undereaters (like I was) discover relief—even a sense of power—in artificial control.

Somehow Jason and I ended up on the very last seat. Maybe everyone else was just too tired to walk that far. Jason put his arm around me and drew me up against his side. Once the coach called the roster and everyone was accounted for, we headed home. It was really dark on the bus. It didn’t seem as windy. Maybe because Jason was holding me close. Then he kissed me. A really long, slow, deep kiss. A kiss that made me see fireworks. When he pulled back, I could see him grinning, even in the darkness. “I love the flavor of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.” “You know where you can always get a taste,” I said. He kissed me again.

I heard a shower go on, a distant shower, not in the bathroom next to my room, but in the one across the hall, which meant it was Jason. He’d taken at least one shower, usually two a day in that bathroom. So why was I suddenly freaked out by the thought of him in the shower? Naked? Oh, gosh, this was insane. What if he opened the door to my bedroom? What if he came inside? What if he wanted to give me a good-morning kiss? Okay, that was so not going to happen. Hadn’t we said no kissing in the house? Not that the rule had stopped us from kissing in the game room last night after we’d finished our ice cream. “I’m still craving the flavor of chocolate chip cookie dough,” he’d said. So of course, I’d let him sample.

There are food stations around the room, each representing one of the main characters. The Black Widow station is all Russian themed, with a carved ice sculpture that delivers vodka into molded ice shot glasses, buckwheat blini with smoked salmon and caviar, borsht bite skewers, minipita sandwiches filled with grilled Russian sausages, onion salad, and a sour cream sauce. The Captain America station is, naturally, all-American, with cheeseburger sliders, miniwaffles topped with a fried chicken tender and drizzled with Tabasco honey butter, paper cones of French fries, mini-Chicago hot dogs, a mac 'n' cheese bar, and pickled watermelon skewers. The Hulk station is all about duality and green. Green and white tortellini, one filled with cheese, the other with spicy sausage, skewered with artichoke hearts with a brilliant green pesto for dipping. Flatbreads cooked with olive oil and herbs and Parmesan, topped with an arugula salad in a lemon vinaigrette. Mini-espresso cups filled with hot sweet pea soup topped with cold sour cream and chervil. And the dessert buffet is inspired by Loki, the villain of the piece, and Norse god of mischief. There are plenty of dessert options, many of the usual suspects, mini-creme brûlée, eight different cookies, small tarts. But here and there are mischievous and whimsical touches. Rice Krispies treats sprinkled with Pop Rocks for a shocking dining experience. One-bite brownies that have a molten chocolate center that explodes in the mouth. Rice pudding "sushi" topped with Swedish Fish.

Turning humans into space colonizers is his stated life’s purpose. “I would like to die thinking that humanity has a bright future,” he said. “If we can solve sustainable energy and be well on our way to becoming a multiplanetary species with a self-sustaining civilization on another planet—to cope with a worst-case scenario happening and extinguishing human consciousness—then,” and here he paused for a moment, “I think that would be really good.” If some of the things that Musk says and does sound absurd, that’s because on one level they very much are. On this occasion, for example, Musk’s assistant had just handed him some cookies-and-cream ice cream with sprinkles on top, and he then talked earnestly about saving humanity while a blotch of the dessert hung from his lower lip.

What kind of dog do you want?” Peter asks her. “Don’t get her hopes up,” I tell him, but he waves me off. Immediately Kitty says, “An Akita. Red fur with a cinnamon-bun tail. Or a German shepherd I can train to be a seeing-eye dog.” “But you’re not blind,” Peter says. “But I could be one day.” Grinning, Peter shakes his head. He nudges me again and in an admiring voice he says, “Can’t argue with the kid." “It’s pretty much futile,” I agree. I hold up a magazine to show Kitty. “What do you think? Creamsicle cookies?” Kitty writes them down as a maybe. “Hey, what about these?” Peter pushes a cookbook in my lap. It’s opened up to a fruitcake cookie recipe. I gag. “Are you kidding? You’re kidding, right? Fruitcake cookies? That’s disgusting.” “When done right, fruitcake can be really good,” Peter defends. “My great-aunt Trish used to make fruitcake, and she’d put ice cream on top and it was awesome.” “If you put ice cream on anything, it’s good,” Kitty says. “Can’t argue with the kid,” I say, and Peter and I exchange smiles over Kitty’s head.

She pulls from a shelf certain rare spices and sugars that her successor is unlikely to use. Insulating the jars with softbound books and sheafs of cooking notes, she packs them in a carton that came to this kitchen holding boxes of Italian pasta. She examines the fanciful designs on a container of sugar imported from Turkey, a favorite finish for the surface of cookies: bearclaws, butter wafers. The large, faceted granules glitter like bluish rhinestones; children always choose those cookies first. She wonders if she will be able to get this sugar anymore, if borders will tighten so austerely that she will lose some of her most precious, treasured ingredients: the best dried lavender and mascarpone, pomegranate molasses. But in the scheme of things, does it matter? She comes upon her collection of vinegars, which she uses to brighten the character of certain cakes, to hold the line between sweet and cloying. She takes down a spicy vinegar she bought at a nearby farm; inside the bottle, purple peppers, like sleeping bats, hang from the surface of the liquid. Greenie used it in a dark chocolate ice cream and molasses pie.

sighed. “I can’t say that you weren’t expected.” “I’m just going to be walking around here and taking some measurements. It says here… you own eighty acres? That is one of the most gorgeous mansions I have ever seen,” he rambled on. “It must have cost you millions. I could never afford such a beauty. Well, heck, for that matter I couldn’t afford the millions of dollars in taxes a house like this would assess, let alone such a pricey property. Do you have an accountant?” Zo opened her mouth to respond, but he continued, “For an estate this size, I would definitely have one.” “I do have an accountant,” she cut in, with frustration. “Furthermore, I have invested a lot of money bringing this mansion up to speed. You can see my investment is great.” “Of course, it would be. The fact of the matter is, Mrs. Kane, a lot of people are in over their heads in property. You still have to pay up, or we take the place. Well, I’ll get busy now. Pay no mind to me.” He walked on, taking notes. “Clairrrrre!” Zo called as soon as she entered the house. “Bring your cell phone!” Two worry-filled months went by and many calls were made to lawyers, before Zoey finally picked one that made her feel confident. And then the letter came with the totals and the due date. “There is no way we can pay this, Mom, even if we sold off some of our treasures, because a lot of them are contracted to museums anyway. I am feeling awfully poor all of a sudden, and insecure.” “Yes, and I did some research, thinking I’d be forced to sell. It’s unlikely that anyone else around here can afford this place. It looks like they are going to get it all; they aren’t just charging for this year. What we have here is a value about equal to a little country. And all the new construction sites for housing developments suddenly popping up on this side of the river, does not help. Value is going up.” Zo put her head in her hands. “Ohhh, oh, oh, oh!” “Yeah, bring out the ice-cream and cake. I need comforting,” sighed Claire. The cell phone rang. “Yes, tonight? You guys have become pretty good to us, haven’t you?! You know, Bob, Mom and I thought we were just going to pig out on ice cream and cake. We found out we are losing this estate and are going to be poor again and we are bummed out.” There was a long pause. “No, that’s okay, I understand. Yeah, okay, bye.” “Well?” Zo ask dryly. “He was appropriately sorry, and he got off the phone fast, saying he remembered he had other business to take care of. Do you want to cry? I do…” “I’ll get the cake and dish the ice cream. You make our tea and we’ll cry together.” A pitter patter began to drum on the window. “Rain again. It seems softer though, dear.” “I thought you said this was going to be a softer rain!” It started to pour. “At least this is not a thunder storm… What was that?” “Thunder,” replied Claire, unmoved and resigned. An hour had gone by when there was a rapping at the door. “People rarely use the doorbell, ever notice that?” Zo asked on the way to the door. She opened it to reveal two wet guys holding a pizza, salad, soft drink, and giant chocolate chip cookies in a plastic container. In a plastic

SNAPPY TURTLE PIE   1 chocolate cookie crumb pie shell (chocolate is best, but shortbread or graham cracker will also work just fine) 1 pint vanilla ice cream 4 ounces ( of a 6-ounce jar) caramel ice cream topping (I used Smucker’s) ½ cup salted pecan pieces 4 ounces ( of a 6-ounce jar) chocolate fudge ice cream topping (I used Smucker’s) 1 small container frozen Cool Whip (original, not low-fat, or real whipped cream) Hannah’s Note: If you can’t find salted pecans, buy plain pecans. Measure out ½ cup of pieces, heat them in the microwave or the oven until they’re hot and then toss them with 2 Tablespoons of melted, salted butter. Sprinkle on ¼ teaspoon of salt, toss again, and you have salted pecan pieces. Set your cookie crumb pie shell on the counter along with your ice cream carton. Let the ice cream soften for 5 to 10 minutes. You want it approximately the consistency of soft-serve. Using a rubber spatula, spread out your ice cream in the bottom of the chocolate cookie crumb crust. Smooth the top with the spatula. Working quickly, pour the caramel topping over the ice cream. You can drizzle it, pour it, whatever. Just try to get it as evenly distributed as you can. Sprinkle the salted pecan pieces on top of the caramel layer. Pour or drizzle the chocolate fudge topping over the pecans. Cover the top of your pie with wax paper (don’t push it down—you don’t want it to stick) and put your Snappy Turtle Pie in the freezer overnight. Put your container of Cool Whip in the refrigerator overnight. Then it’ll be spreadable in the morning. In the morning, remove your pie from the freezer and spread Cool Whip over the top. Cover it with wax paper again and stick it back into the freezer for at least 6 hours. If you’re not planning to serve your pie for dinner that night, wait until the 6 hours are up and then put it into a freezer bag and return it to the freezer for storage. It will be fine for about a month. Take your Snappy Turtle Pie out of the freezer and place it on the countertop about 15 minutes before you’re ready to serve it. When it’s time for dessert, cut it into 6 pieces as you would a regular pie, put each piece on a dessert plate, and place one Snappy Turtle Cookie (recipe follows) on the center of each piece, the head of the turtle facing the tip of the pie. Yield: 6 slices of yummy ice cream pie that all of your guests will ooh and ahh over.