From an Internet contact that’s always sending me weird and wacky tidbits of information comes a study on ice cream called flavorology. Seems the ice cream flavour you prefer is based on your character; in other words, distinct personalities correspond with ice cream flavours.
But don’t take my word for this; try the ice cream test to see if the Smell and Taste Treatment and Research Foundation of Chicago is on to something. First, pick your favourite ice cream flavour from the following – vanilla, chocolate, butter pecan, banana, strawberry, chocolate chip – and read on to see if your selection accurately indicates your personality.
According to flavorology studies, if you like vanilla you are colourful, impulsive, a risk taker who sets high goals and has high expectations of yourself.
If you picked chocolate, you are lively, creative, dramatic, charming, enthusiastic, and the life of the party.
If you like butter pecan, you are orderly, perfectionistic, careful, detail-oriented, ethical and fiscally conservative.
If you like banana, you are easy-going, well-adjusted, generous, honest and empathetic.
If strawberry is your favourite flavour, you are shy, yet emotionally robust, sceptical, detail-oriented, opinionated, introverted and self-critical.
If you like chocolate chip, you are generous, accomplished and competitive. You are charming in social situations.
I should say “etcetera, etcetera” here since I’ve only skimmed over the personality sketches. The flavorology study goes into much more detail, such as which flavour personalities are compatible. If your favourite flavour is chocolate chip, for example, you will be compatible with someone who likes butter pecan and strawberry.
Since the study results read like a horoscope, you should be sceptical. Besides, the study ignored some of the flavours popular at local roadside stands. What about heavenly hash, or my favourite, blueberry? And what about ice cream addicts who enjoy any and all flavours – are they multiple personality people?
World record eggs? “Not eggzactly, but close,” Centreville retiree Arnold Burbidge likes to say about the giant eggs the hens used to produce on his boyhood farm in Canard.
“They were large enough to make the newspapers, in fact several newspapers,” Burbidge said when boasting about the size of the eggs. “I saved all the newspaper clippings. If I can find them I’ll show you.”
I heard about the monster eggs off and on for several months while Burbidge searched in vain for “newspaper proof” they had existed. Then one morning he came into the coffee shop with copies of six newspaper stories from 1945. “Canard Hen Lays Super Eggs,” one story was headed. Another was titled “Five Super Eggs From One Flock At Canard.” One editor, tongue-in -cheek, headed his story with “It Was Bound To Happen.”
The eggs were super indeed, the largest measuring just over nine inches around and close to eleven inches long, while the balance were slightly smaller in size. Burbidge thinks the eggs are records that still stand and he could be right.