I Scream, You Scream: A Recapitulation

“Turn out the lights, the party's over
They say that all good things must end
Call it a night, the party's over
And tomorrow starts the same old thing again.”

~Willie Nelson

Well, we’ve made it—the party’s (almost) over!

It is October 18th, 2023. The first post as part of this senseless and wonderful project—a post that was entitled “Scream With Me, Friends! Scream for Ice Cream!”—came out on October 11th, 2022. Incredibly hardcore fans of this newsletter will have noticed that the final flavor review, Cotton Candy, also came out on October 11th. This bit of poetic calendar work was not planned. I knew that the project would last approximately one year, but it was too difficult to calculate the exact end date given that 1) I occasionally lumped two flavor reviews into the same newsletter, and 2) I didn’t know how many Limited Edition flavors I would try.

No, this simple twist of fate came knocking all on its own.

In the aforementioned inaugural ‘I Scream, You Scream’ newsletter, I stated that these reviews “will come out—I don’t know—maybe every week? Maybe every two weeks? Who can say at this point.” I’m proud to say that I stuck to the weekly schedule; it required not only high levels of dairy consumption (that was always going to be a given evil), but also forethought and a steady writing ethic. This was precisely the point of the project, to rekindle my relationship with the written word (or typed, I guess) and to develop something by way of a habitual tendency that could be expanded upon.

We live in the Era of Data, something that is both fascinating and unsettling. ‘I Scream, You Scream’ is not exempt from these consequences and, therefore, there are some interesting stats from the last year that I’d like to share with you all. Let’s start with the very first flavor: Mousse Trail. That review got eight Likes, an ‘I Scream, You Scream’ record. You lot were a much more trigger-happy bunch in terms of the Like button when this project began. By the end, I was lucky to get a single Like on a post. That doesn’t bother me because, if the data from Substack is to be trusted, readership never dropped, just the Likes. Sure, I imagine some people came and went, but I also know for certain that there are some of you out there who read every single word I published in these newsletters. Heroes, every one of you!

Hang onto your Likes, friends. There are those out there who may need them more; you’ll be happy to have them when the time comes.

Next, let’s discuss comments. ‘I Scream, You Scream’ generated thirty two total comments from ten individual people (seven of which commented more than once.) Allow me to call several of these individuals out:

• The Adirondack Explorer (an organization that understands the true value of a good internet comment) made their presence known proudly in the comments section. Thanks Tracy, Michael & Melissa for your sustained engagement.

• Those of you who read the Cookies 'N Cream review will recall that my father has consistently asked to be mentioned in this newsletter. It should be noted, though, that before I finally did so, he left his own mark on the project with five total comments. He just barely outshined Noah Ball (who left four comments) for the second place prize, though it should be said that Noah never once demanded anything from me.

• The gold medal for Most Total Comments patently goes to my grandmother, Sandy. She composed ten total, including when she called me a “wonderful ice cream person” in the comments section of the Cotton Candy review. However, my absolute favorite comment of hers—and of the entire project—can be found on my dual review of Milk Chocolate Gelato & Chocolate. She writes, “I would give up a whole normal meal for one dish of ice cream.”

Thanks for reading, Grandma. And thanks for this succinct and wise insight.

While we’re on the topic of noteworthy readers, some of you are already aware that—in some small way—Stewart’s themselves has been keeping tabs on ‘I Scream, You Scream’. Three different Stewart’s email addresses subscribed to the newsletter. One was the catch-all info@stewartsshops.com and another was an individual named Jeff Vigliotta who, according to LinkedIn, is apparently a Marketing Coordinator for the corporation. According to Substack though, each of these inboxes received zero emails; all the messages that were sent were mysteriously dropped and, after August 9th, the system stopped trying altogether. So, we forget them.

But…there was a third! I won’t give that person’s name or email address here, but light internet searching leads me to believe that they are somehow associated with a Stewart’s location in Port Ewen, NY—a town along the Hudson River that lies just south of Kingston. This individual received forty two emails (!) and opened five of them, including some of the more recent reviews like Mint Cookie Scout and Maple Walnut.

Hello, friend! If you’re reading this right now, you know who you are. I acknowledge and welcome you. Reach out to me and let’s talk shop sometime…maybe you have the power to make some of my wildest dairy dreams come true.

Some of you surely took notice of the fact that, over time, these ice cream reviews became progressively longer and more involved [Just take a look at where your scroll bar currently sits; we’ve got a long way to go today, folks.] It’s a funny thing, that. I am a long-winded person and I make no efforts to hide the fact. When this all began, I thought it was a total gas just to do it at all. Now, looking back, I wish that I had taken some of those early reviews a little bit more seriously. For instance, the first review—Mousse Trail—was a total of 289 words, a meager offering for such a powerhouse of a flavor. The final review—Cotton Candy—was nearly 1,800 words written on behalf of one of the worst flavors of ice cream I’ve ever had, period.

Is there a middle target ground between these two that is probably correct? Yes, sure, of course. But the writing muscle hadn’t been conditioned in those early days. And then, once it is, well, you just want to stand in front of people and flex it. At least, for better or for worse, I do.

If I’m recalling correctly, Cherry Vanilla was my first foray into the longer format; that review is just over 1,600 words and probably remains my favorite. It’s a gratuitous piece, I know it. But so is subjecting friends and family to weekly internet sermons about gas station ice cream—more specifically, a particular brand of gas station ice cream which many of you cannot even access regularly. So, given those truths and inevitabilities, why not embrace the inane and lean in? If I’m not mistaken…isn’t that when things become most fun?

I also think back fondly on the Peanut Butter Pandemonium review. That one was only 476 words, but it marked a turning point for me—a complete release of thematic boundary and a shift toward the absurd. This was the moment when I realized that this whole endeavor could either be far more fun, or when I admitted to myself that I was simply running out of ideas. Whichever one is true (maybe both?), I urge anyone to bring themselves to the brink in this fashion—to drop your foot onto the accelerator until the gas tank reads empty and then see how far the car will continue to go.

But, Dear Reader, we are getting tangential, so let us return to the data. Here, at the end of things, ‘I Scream, You Scream’ wound up with 126 subscribers. Of course, people don’t have to subscribe to read, but I’m not delusional enough to think that too many people are stumbling across this newsletter through happenstance. The vast majority of you receive my thoughts in your email inbox. And, in terms of emails, I’m pleased to say that Cotton Candy—the final flavor review—took the cake with 245 total opens, possibly suggesting that I managed to create something by way of suspense.

Though, we mustn’t discuss email opens without also discussing open rates. Adirondack Bear Paw—published on December 7th (a date that will live in infamy)—had the highest open rate of 82%. The original October 11th welcome post trailed right behind with 80%. And, for some reason, Butter Pecan—published on May 31st—came in dead last with an open rate of 58%. Overall though, things shook out to a staggering open rate average of 70%! This is phenomenal; I never could have imagined people would stick around for this long, thank you all.

If I were being really systematic, I would aim to understand something as granular as how far people scroll through each article before giving up and deleting the message, but that’s not the point here. The only reason I’m reporting on any of this is because Substack gives the data for free. To me, ‘I Scream, You Scream’ exists in the public domain and you, the Readers, deserve to know what I know—you are as much a part of this experiment as I am.

To touch on word count again briefly, all 57 reviews added together (not including the original email or what you’re reading now) total 33,740 words. Novels tend to fall somewhere between 50-120 thousand words, so we aren’t in that ballpark. But, by all accounts, 33,000+ words is in the upper reaches of a respectable novella, so that’s something! And when I tried to dump the the whole review catalog into ChatGPT (For what purpose? I don’t know.) it told me that the entry was too much text.

Thus, in some small way, I’ve written a sort-of-book that is not able to be digested by society’s most well-known artificial personality. Huh.

Fifty seven—that’s how many reviews I wrote. Which, by now, I have made clear is not the total number of Stewart’s ice cream flavors. It excludes a large number of Limited Edition flavors that either were or are at my disposal. It also excludes Orange Sherbet and Vanilla/Chocolate—shortcomings that we will all have bring to the grave. All the while, so, so many of you have asked me: “Which one is your favorite?” and I’ve denied all of you an answer, saying something along the lines of, “I can’t tell you that, else the whole game would be ruined, friend!” This was an overly dramatic response. I know that none of you really care what my favorite flavor of ice cream is. You wouldn’t have asked me so nonchalantly if you really did care—yours was an off-handed remark.

But this is how my brain works; I take things of little to no importance and I elevate them to levels of severity that are sometimes incomprehensible. I don’t know why I do this or why it’s fun for me, but it is. Perhaps some primal part of my being needs to convince you that you should care what my favorite ice cream flavor is. Because…if you don’t…then what are we doing here?

Everything above has come at you as lead-up to my final ‘I Scream, You Scream’ offering: a subjectively ranked list of each of the 57 flavors that I tried. Believe me, I know there are people out there that do not feel the need to rank things in order to enjoy them. I envy those people and, at the same time, can admit that too often I am not one of them. There is an unnamed competition that rages within me and, like it or not, many things that enter my orbit are unduly entered into the ring and handed a pair of gloves.

I curtail these inklings as much as I can, but I remain mortal, a condition which continues to get the best of me.

So, yes, a process was devised for ranking the flavors, one that had me assembling them in a spreadsheet and assigning more-arbitrary-than-not scores from 0-100. Basically, I would try a flavor, slip it into the list where it seemed like it belonged, look at the numbers on either side of it, and then score accordingly. Its reminiscent of pre-medieval European song notation when composers with no real concept of notes, scales, or the mathematics of music would draw a little blob higher or lower than the blobs around it to indicate rises and falls in the melody. We’re all just trying our best.

Coincidentally, this wasn’t a terrible way to do things since the first flavor reviewed was Mousse Trail, which—without spoiling too much—is ranked fairly high. Because of this happy accident, I inadvertently created a hierarchy standard that was actually rooted in quality and competition. Not long before writing this, I did a final assessment of the list to see if any clerical errors needed to be rectified. Some did, like the abysmal placement of flavors like Peanut Butter Pandemonium and Black Raspberry. Now, with that work complete, I am left with what I feel to be an accurate—if not somewhat controversial—flavor ranking that feels honest to me. My hope is that you agree.

There is so much that could be said in these final moments (the curse rears its ugly head over and over and over!) For instance, I never commented on the fact that Cookies ‘N Cream & Cream N’ Coffee Fudge both use an “N” to represent the word “and” but oddly utilize different apostrophe placements on said “N”. Or the fact that Stewart’s also serves chili, an item I’ve never tried and probably never will.

But, Reader, there is no more time for commentary—only time for long, slow goodbyes.

The day I tried the last flavor, Cotton Candy, was the same day that the world learned the news of Jimmy Buffett’s death. I’m not much of a Jimmy fan, but he was obviously a cultural force to be reckoned with; his army of “Parrot Heads” followed him as closely as a “Deadhead” would have followed the Grateful Dead. Jimmy Buffett offered people an alternative world—one without boundaries, responsibilities or divides. One without problems or sadness. His musical catalogue contains some timeless tunes, but it also contains a lot of shallow “Trop-Rock” fodder. And that’s because Jimmy Buffett knew that his product was for everyone, whether they wanted him or not.

[It’s not all cheesy, though. For instance, “A Pirate Looks at Forty” is a songwriting masterpiece. If my fellow band members are reading this, consider this a formal appeal to work this tune into our regular setlist.]

In many ways, Stewart’s and Jimmy Buffett are the same. Stewart’s is a company that offers a wholesome product, a pleasant experience, and some of the most competitive service industry compensation around. Ice cream is a big part of their brand and much of it is very, very good. Some of it is no good and none of it is as bad as Cotton Candy. Yet, even Cotton Candy remains a canonical flavor because some people like it—enough people, in fact, that it justifies serving it at both the scoop counter and in half gallon containers.

The purpose of ‘I Scream, You Scream’ was never to evaluate Stewart’s as a company or a piece of popular cultural. These gas station/convenience stores are an integral part of my community and nothing I can do will change that (not that I would necessarily even want to.)

The purpose was to take a closer-than-usual look at something that is celebrated and noteworthy but not exactly astounding. To elevate a regular thing to a heightened position and see what can be learned. To wring every ounce of that thing dry and wrestle something away from it that you and I can carry forth with us.

I don’t recommend this challenge to anyone—it’s too much money, too much time and too much indigestion.

But I do recommend allowing yourself to explore something so deeply that—even if it seems laughable or inconsequential—it brings you joy to just to do it.

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[Stay tuned next week for the ranking—I look forward to hearing your thoughts.]