In a word, wow. More than 33 feet of snow has fallen at mid-mountain so far and it’s only mid-season. That’s the average snowfall that usually hits Whistler Mountain in an entire ski season.
With so much snow and so little time to enjoy it, you’d better stop reading and get out there, pronto. Or take this along, and as you ride up the lifts guess-timate how many snow cones some entrepreneurial soul could get out of all that white stuff.
Snow cones were once a novelty item that could only be classified as a big deal on the great Canadian prairies. In the middle of the whoop-de-do of the Edmonton Exhibition or Calgary Stampede, kids would beg parents for a round blob of ice crystals packed into a trademark cardboardy “cone” and doused with some horrifyingly bright syrup bearing any number of ersatz flavours that only kids could find delicious.
They were served with a plastic spoon, but any child in her right mind knew the only method of attack was to slurp it up mouth-first, lips and any other parts of your body that came into contact invariably becoming stained bubble-gum blue or lime green, depending on what flavour you’d ordered. Butterscotch yellow made you look like you’d been severely bruised, lending you an aura of danger or belligerence.
Snow cones served in dainty little dessert-sized cardboard or plastic containers were definitely for parents and losers.
It was all new and exciting to us, because snow cones, or sno-cones, as they’re sometimes called, were from “the States”.
The first ones, apparently, were concocted by one Samuel Bert, who initially sold them at a state fair in Texas in 1919. Even then, snow cone was synonymous with fun.
They’re still big in places like meet-me-in-St.-Louis-Louis-meet-me-at-the-fair, New Orleans and Hawaii, sometimes under the name “shave ice.” While there are snow cone machines and shave ice machines (some of them still hand-cranked), the end results are pretty much the same thing: crystalline particles of ice soaked in flavoured syrups ranging from old-time classics like cherry and blueberry to new sophisticates like kiwi and blood orange.
Some of them now have a glob of ice cream (snow balls), marshmallows or bubble gum embedded in or around them.
Adult adventurers have been known to borrow their kids’ snow-cone making machines at home and add a good douse of Cointreau or Kahlua. Or the real innovators simply step outside, grab a cup of snow and pour away. Sounds like a golden opportunity for a Whistler go-getter to me…
Slurpees from an air conditioner
In Canada, 7-Eleven Slurpees are about as close as we come to a snow cone these days, in terms of product and the popularity factor snow cones once enjoyed. It’s kind of ironic that one of the coldest cities in Canada — Winnipeg — has such a slush-on for Slurpees that 7-Eleven has named it the “Slurpee Capital of the World.”
On average, Winnipeg 7-Elevens sell more than 200 Slurpees every day of the year, even in the winter. The city has the highest per capita Slurpee sales of any place 7-Eleven does business, except Beijing, which doesn’t quite have Slurpees yet, even lychee-flavoured ones.
The genesis of Slurpees reminds me of how my sister and I used to put bottles of Mountain Dew or orange pop in our freezer when we were kids. We’d carefully time it so the pop was partially frozen, then extract the bottles and drink the slushy stuff through fat straws we’d saved from Dairy Queen milkshakes. I’m not sure if the bigger thrill came from the weird texture of the semi-frozen pop, or the potential risk of pop bottles exploding in the freezer.
Slurpees more or less originated from the same technique. A Kansas drive-in restaurant owner named Omar Knedlik began serving his customers slushy frozen drinks when his soda fountain machine broke and he had to store his soda pop in the freezer.
He eventually worked with a Dallas machinery manufacturer to come up with a machine that would duplicate the slushy, carbonated drinks — a car air conditioner was the first try. But retailers just weren’t interested, at least none were until Omar ran into a 7-Eleven manager in 1965. Too bad my sister and I didn’t have the same wherewithal.
Big people’s snow cones
You’ve probably had snow cone-like treats in places like Puerto Rico or Mexico, where they come in a variety of names and configurations.
But one thing snow cones are not is Italian ices. Those have a long and noble tradition as desserts and even street vendor treats.
Their main distinguishing feature from snow cones is that the ice is flavoured before it’s made, usually with something a little more palatable to adults than bubble gum syrup.
If you’re tired of heavy winter desserts, try this granita. While not exactly a classic Italian ice, which is made with a true simple syrup, it’s a variation on the theme. I promise it’s as easy to make and as fun to eat as a snow cone — and way better for you.
It also makes an impressive end to any dinner party, especially when served in old-fashioned champagne glasses, preferably ones that don’t match, which can be had for a song at second-hand stores.
Lemon rose granita
1/4 cup honey
1.5 cups of water
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
1 tsp. rose water (easy to find in Middle Eastern or Indian food sections/stores, and very inexpensive)
Mix the honey with water in a small pan. Heat, stirring occasionally, until the honey is dissolved (2-3 minutes). Do not boil. Remove from heat and let it cool completely. Stir in lemon juice and rose water, then pour into an 8 x 8-inch glass dish or stainless steel pan. Freeze for about 3 hours, until it’s firm. Using a fork, scrape the granita in horizontal motions to make thin shavings. Return to the freezer for another 2-4 hours. Scrape again just before serving. If you have any roses left over from Valentine’s Day, you can garnish the servings with rose petals.
Glenda Bartosh is an award-winning freelance writer who
hated it when the snow cone cardboard cups grew so soggy that the tip at the
bottom disintegrated.
