YOUR FRIENDS' ACTIVITY

    R.I.P. Dippin' Dots? Little ice cream pellets of the future may not have one.

    The ice cream of the future could become the ice cream of the past. Dippin' dots is filing for bankruptcy protection which might mean the end of eating tiny little moth-balls while walking around a mall.

    There's a chance the company can reorganize and pull itself up from it's bootstraps for the sake of dot-heads everywhere.
    "Dippin' Dots, Inc. does not anticipate that this situation will interrupt its ability to deliver supplies or service to any of its valued customers during this period," a company spokesperson said in a statement. "Under a plan of reorganization, Dippin' Dots, Inc. will seek an equitable restructuring of debt that will allow the company to honor obligations to its vendors and other stakeholders."
    I'm taking that to mean Dippin' Dots wants to live! Right now we're holding a vigil and placing a sample spoonful in a time capsule.

    Perhaps the greatest cold snack invention since Bon Bons (remember those guys?) Dippin' Dots were, in fact, mounds of ice cream flash frozen with liquid nitrogen.

    The result was the unthinkable: it didn't melt or drip, and eating the little pellets actually made you feel like you were one step closer to living in a world worthy of a Jetson.

    There were all sorts of flavors: banana split, cookies and cream, tropical tye dye and alien vanilla crunch. All of them looked like shrunken down versions of those mint bowls at the cash registers in diners. Mmmm.

    I know I shouldn't be using the past tense just yet. Dippin' Dots are still around and they always will be. I don't think those things expire, even in your stomach.

    Related:
    Amazing future foods
    Fancy food show fare
    Taste test: the best ice cream
    Outrageous food trends


    SUPPER CLUB PICK

    • Childhood Favorites from the Shine Supper Club
      View Photos
      Childhood Favorites from the Shine Supper Club

      My after-school snack was a sacred ritual. I sat on the carpet in my parents' bedroom at a low table, the television turned to "I Dream of Jeannie," and ate a peanut butter and honey sandwich cut into neat squares. I wasn't fussy about crusts. I just loved the sticky pairing of creamy peanut butter with syrupy golden sweetness drizzled from a honey bear in diagonals across the soft white bread. Nothing else--save for maybe apples and peanut butter in a pinch--could have made for as sweet an