Neapolitan ice cream à la russe. Photo by the Russian Reader

Not that I had been looking very hard these past twenty-four years, but yesterday I found one of my favorite childhood desserts in the frozen foods section of the cornershop on my street: Neapolitan ice cream.

It was called trio plombir in Russian (plombir is just mock-fancy Russian, appropriated from the French, for rich ice cream, ordinarily referred to as morozhenое), but that hardly mattered, because it was Neapolitan ice cream in every way that mattered.

What could be better on a warm October evening than a large slab of trio plombir? Photo by the Russian Reader

And why am I still eating ice cream in mid October, you ask? Because the high temperature in Petersburg the day before yesterday was nineteen degrees Centigrade.

Please don’t be envious of me, though, faithful readers. From here on out it is all downhill. The forecast high temperature for the next to last three days in October is minus one degree Centigrade. I will probably have forgotten all about Russian Neapolitan ice cream by then. {TRR}