It's 1963, on a blistering hot smoggy summer evening in the San Fernando Valley — Sylmar to be exact. We're all out in our back yard on the porch looking out at the beautiful landscaped yard that my handsome hard working father has put soooo many hours into making it the beauty it is, a swirling paved trail that snakes its way through the flower beds filled with roses, pansies, marigolds and gladiolus, just to name a few.

Prior to this summer, our backyard was also home to our glorious olive tree that held in its branches our tree fort. Chris and I and many neighborhood friends spent many an hour playing and letting our imaginations run wild in and under that tree — that's a story for another day.

Daddy, has gotten out the homemade ice cream maker. I, a seven-year-old towhead, jumped for joy. Even though I was very young, I knew what that meant — I was going to have my most favorite treat of all, a luscious, creamy, sweet vanilla ice cream for dessert that night. And if I got up early enough the next morning, I would be able to devour an extra bowl for breakfast — a family tradition.

Today, making homemade ice cream is a cinch. Just get out the electric ice cream maker, simmer the half-n-half, egg yolks, and sugar together until they coat the back of the spoon. Let that concoction cool in the refrigerator, add the whipping cream and the most important ingredient, the vanilla. (Ahhhh the vanilla, the smell as I open the extract's vial always takes me back to those hot summer ice cream evenings.)

Stir everything together and pour into the ice cream maker. Turn the machine on. Surround your creamy confection with ice and rock salt. In 40 minutes, the whirl of the machine is done laboring, let it harden for a couple of hours and then you have the perfect dessert. Simple as that.

However, back in 1963, it wasn't that easy. It took a lot of effort and muscle power. We had to crank that ice cream maker — no electricity to aid us. We relied on our biceps, our muscles to get the job done. We each took our turn cranking that difficult machine and the longer it took, the harder the job.

Even me, that seven-year-old skinny girl had to take my turn. But I was lucky, my turn was in the beginning of the cranking, so it was not labor intensive, even though I, at the time, probably thought it was.

Ahhhh, but the results of my hard labor and that of my sister, Chris and Mom and Dad was so very worth it. For in the end, we were in for the tasty delectable frozen treat — homemade vanilla ice cream. Ahhh, the smell, the creamy texture, and most of all, the taste — can't do better than that.

Even today, as a 65-year-older woman, homemade vanilla ice cream is my go-to dessert. I love it now, as I did as a young girl. It always brings me back to my childhood days with my family.

Mom and Dad are now gone, but I'll always have this memory of our summer evenings together. That's the scoop.

~ Candice Morgan