Lauren Wille

I saw the parlor the day I arrived in Miraflores, and without control my mouth began to salivate. 

It’s my guiltiest pleasure, my comfort, my celebration. I’ve been craving it since day one of my Peruvian adventure, and after stuffing myself full of savory crusted chicken florentina and yellow risotto, I was determined to have my treat. 
The ice cream parlor across from John F Kennedy Park lures you in with colorful pictures of their tasty creations. A neon blue poster framed behind glass and wooden trim greets you at the door, displaying the many creative sundaes they serve until the wee hours of the morning. It’s more than just a hot fudge sundae. It’s a hot fudge sundae in the shape of a cat, a clown, a princess or medusa, and the list doesn’t end there. 
I walked past the white wooden chairs that sit at every table, and through the gazebo that stood in the center of the parlor. I felt five years old again, tugging on my dad’s pant leg, reminding him I wanted chocolate covered in chocolate. 
I approached the register and said “Puedo tener la gatita, por favor.” The man slapped my receipt on the counter, and with a deliberate wave gestured me to hand it to the other employee, who would build my delicious treat. The sundae was a mountain of chocolate ice cream, cherry ears, and M&M nose. I devoured it quickly, accept for the waffle cone bowl that dripped with melted ice cream, causing my hands to still be sticky the next morning. 
Moments later I was on the verge of being sick, seeing that I not only demolished my own sundae, but polished off half of my classmate Sara’s cookies and cream with a chocolate shell. 
If I’m not eating fried food and red meat, I’m eating ice cream. But hey, it’s not everyday you get to eat a cat made of ice cream