For nearly eight years, I scooped ice-cream at Heinchon's Old Farm House on Rt. 22 in Pawling, on a stretch of highway connecting Manhattanites to their weekend homes in Connecticut and Massachusetts. It was hard work. Don't laugh. Over the years I nearly sprained my wrist several times digging into the hard, homemade ice-cream. I even had to wear a wrist bandage on more than one occasion for extra support. I also endured teasing from my brothers: "Carey: cone or cup?" "It's so much more than that," I would screech back.
What's harder than scooping the ice-cream is making it. It is both costly and time-consuming to recreate traditional family recipes, but Heinchon's keeps doing it.
