Archer Farms Sea Salt Pretzel Caramel Ice Cream

Normally I'm not one for mixing my sweets and savories. There's just something wrong about chicken slathered in sweet mango salsa that makes my stomach want to churn. But I have been known to make an exception for chocolate pretzels and kettle corn. However, if I had been sauntering down the frozen dairy aisle of Target and seen kettle corn flavored ice cream, I probably would have kept on walking. But this--this just caught my eye and wouldn't let go.

Sea salt?! Caramel?! Preztles?! Surely you jest, Archer Farms!

I pulled down a pint and cradled it in my arms. Would it really be as good as I thought it would be? I mean, caramel ice cream with swirls of fudge and caramel with chocolate-covered sea-salt pretzels mixed in it? HOW CAN YOU GO WRONG? Not much later, I found out that you couldn't.

I love pretty much everything Target, and their ice cream did not disappoint. The perfect blend of creamy, caramel-y ice cream with just enough salt to be tasty without making you wonder if somebody accidentally poured salt into the sugar container. And since the pretzels were enrobed in their protective chocolate coating, they didn't get all soggy, as pretzels in ice cream are wont to do. On a completely arbitrary scale of recommendation, I'll give this three prancing unicorns, one lame, lying down unicorn as the lowest score, and three prancing unicorns stabbing a clown as the highest score. Is it the absolute best ice cream I've ever had? No. Is it really close? Yes.

Had my ice-cream buying experience not been marred by the completely inept, mouth-breathing checker with THUG tattooed across his knuckles, I could have possibly thrown a clown onto the score. I bought this ice cream with my friend Kiki (after we gorged at Five Guys Burgers and Fries--hey, if you're going to gorge, you might as well go whole hog [pun intended]) I was buying just the ice cream and she had several other items which she placed behind mine on the moving belt thingy--divided very obviously by one of those separator bar things. (My shopping vocabulary isn't very extensive apparently.) Mouth-breather rang up my stuff and, while I was busy wrestling with the credit card machine, he breached the demarcation line and started ringing up Kiki's stuff with my solitary pint of ice cream. Thankfully she caught on eventually and told him I was buying "just the ice cream." He then proceeded to delete everything except for my ice cream and hers and then rang the sale through before I could correct him. Kiki and I then spent the rest of our time at his register trying not to laugh at his disheveled hair (think Harry Dunne from Dumb and Dumber), THUG tattoo, and utter incompetence. I mean, doesn't he know what that bar is for? Later we determined that he really worked at the Wal-Mart one street over and was lost.

I expect more from you, Target.




Aw, but I can't stay mad at you...