To this day, I sometimes treat myself to a triple scoop of dirty ice cream. They’re not actually dirty per se, but for some unknown reason, we grew up calling it as such. The ice cream vendor who plied our area back then was Mang Fermin; usually passing by our house between four and five o’clock in the afternoon. He had the same flavors — ube, queso, chocolate and vanilla. And every year on my sister Inday’s birthday party, she would always ask for a gallon or two of Mang Fermin’s dirty ice cream to be served along with her cake.

I don’t recall ever knowing the price per gallon of dirty ice cream back then, but it only cost five or ten centavos for a triple scoop with a sugar cone. On the other hand, Magnolia Ice Cream’s Pinipig crunch, my other favorite, was only twenty five centavos. But twenty five centavos could also buy you a bottle of Cosmos Sarsaparilla and a piece of hopia (mooncake) at that time.

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