Ice Cream Snowballs

December. Wigilia. The fifth year hosting. Tommy is twenty-three months old and he "helps" with the pierogi by standing on a step stool and putting his hands in everything and distributing flour across the kitchen like a tiny snow machine. He is not helpful. He is adorable. The distinction is irrelevant.

Megan is eight months pregnant — the same stage she was at last Wigilia, with Tommy. History repeating. The kitchen is full of the same people making the same food for the same reasons, and somehow it is entirely new because Tommy is here this time, hands in the dough, and Ellie is here too, kicking under Megan's apron, and the family is bigger and the table is fuller and the tradition carries more weight because it carries more people.

Tom said grace. Tommy said "ba" during the prayer. Tom interpreted this as agreement. The zurek starter is fermenting. The mushroom soup is simmered. The twelve dishes are served. The extra place is set — but this year, looking at the empty chair, I think about Babcia and I think she is not just in the empty chair. She is in the soup. She is in the humming. She is in the name of the daughter who will be born in the spring. Helen. Babcia Helen. Present in absence. Always present.

Christmas morning: pancakes with Tommy. He eats them with his hands. He gets syrup on the tree ornaments. He gives Megan a drawing that is either a dog or a pierogi. Megan says it's a dog. I say it's a pierogi. The dispute continues. The morning is perfect. The last Christmas before Ellie. The last Christmas as a family of three. Next year: four.

The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.

The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.

Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.

The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.

Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.

The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.

After twelve dishes, zurek, mushroom soup, and Tommy redistributing roughly half a bag of pierogi flour across every surface in the kitchen, we needed a dessert that matched the energy of the evening — which is to say something joyful, forgiving, and impossible to ruin with small hands. Ice Cream Snowballs felt exactly right: cold, round, a little chaotic to roll, and made almost entirely of things Tommy could touch without consequence. Babcia Helen would have called them frivolous. She also would have eaten three.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 0 min | Total Time: 15 min (plus 1 hr freeze) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1/2 gallon vanilla ice cream
2 cups sweetened shredded coconut
1/2 cup rainbow sprinkles or holiday-colored sprinkles (optional)
1/4 cup crushed graham crackers (optional, for extra texture)

Instructions

Prep the coating. Spread the shredded coconut on a rimmed baking sheet or large plate. If using sprinkles or crushed graham crackers, mix them into the coconut or set up separate plates for each coating option.
Scoop the ice cream. Using a large ice cream scoop or a 1/3-cup measuring cup, scoop balls of vanilla ice cream and place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Work quickly — if the ice cream softens too much, return the sheet to the freezer for 10 minutes before rolling.
Roll the snowballs. Working one at a time, roll each ice cream ball through the coconut coating, pressing gently so it adheres on all sides. Return each finished snowball to the lined baking sheet.
Freeze until firm. Transfer the baking sheet to the freezer and freeze for at least 1 hour, or until the snowballs are completely firm and the coating has set.
Serve. Remove from the freezer 3–5 minutes before serving. Arrange on a platter. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Ice Cream Snowballs — The Christmas Tommy Turned the Kitchen Into a Blizzard