Purple has always been my favorite color. I still remember one Christmas when Santa went all in – clothes, toys, hair accessories… all purple, all at once. My childhood bedroom looked like a grape had exploded. I can’t remember if I fell for black raspberry ice cream because of the color, or if the ice cream came first and purple just followed along. Maybe my siblings remember, but for me, it’s a delicious chicken-or-the-egg situation.
Black raspberry ice cream will forever hold a special place in my heart (and my freezer). There’s something about that deep, jewel-toned purple, the tart-meets-sweet flavor, and the way it makes me feel like summer just walked in wearing flip-flops and carrying a beach towel.
Growing up, a black raspberry cone was a rare treat. It wasn’t at every ice cream stand – you had to know where to look. The good spots. The ones with the neon OPEN sign buzzing in the window, picnic tables out front, and the steady sound of scoops hitting waffle cones. I’d spot it in the cooler, tucked between chocolate chip and rocky road, and my heart would skip a beat.
Here’s why it’s a forever favorite:
The flavor is magic – not quite as sweet as strawberry, not as heavy as chocolate. That perfect berry-rich balance.
It’s a little mysterious – not every shop carries it, so finding it feels like striking gold.
The color – oh, that gorgeous purple-pink swirl. It’s photogenic and flirty.
It plays well with others – black raspberry with chocolate chunks? Yes, please. Black raspberry milkshake? Absolutely.
Lou’s more of a butter pecan guy, and my kids will go straight for cookie dough, but I will always ask, “Do you have black raspberry?” If the answer’s yes, you’ll find me perched on a bench, napkin in one hand, melting cone in the other, racing against the drip. These days, I usually go for the small cup (a nod to practicality), but honestly – it doesn’t matter how you eat it. It just matters that you do. Period. Full stop.
And Moose? He’s mostly in it for the cone.
So here’s to black raspberry ice cream – the taste of small-town summers, the reward for finding the right ice cream stand, and proof that sometimes, the best flavors are the ones you have to hunt for.
