I was sick as a dog over the weekend. Sore throat, stuffy nose, body aches, the works. I spent more time in bed than on the beach last weekend. Not the strongest start to my summer.

Last night, I started to feel slightly better, but then E had a scratchy throat and a headache. Crap, now I had given him my cold. Poor thing.

Even thought he felt lousy, my boyfriend still made a healthy dinner for the two of us—Arctic char with roasted tomatoes, beets and celery root puree. “Feed a cold,” as our mothers had both advised. It was delicious, but my throat was so sore that I could barely swallow the food. Dessert would have to be ice cream. The cool creamy texture could help soothe my tonsils.

E bought an ice cream for dessert called Sunday Morning because it was the best time of the week. Sunday mornings mean waking up late, pancakes for breakfast, or a day trip out of town. The ice cream had “buttery maple syrup and crispy waffle pieces,” and slathered between two graham crackers, it tasted like a caramel creme pie. My mouth felt soooo much better. So did E’s.

But just to make sure we got a good night’s sleep, we chased the ice cream with a few Nyquil.

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