I recently returned from a two-week honeymoon in Europe, where my husband and I lazed over cheap bottles of wonderful house wine and plates of cooked-to-perfection pasta. Meals were hours long, always with the promise of some tantalizing dessert to follow. I spent 15 glorious days eating gelato in Italy, chocolate in Switzerland and profiteroles in France. But something didn’t feel right.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until we were halfway through Switzerland. I wanted a Dilly® Bar. Make that, I HAD TO HAVE a Dilly Bar. The sweet delicious taste of creamy DQ® vanilla soft serve engulfed in a thick hard shell of delicately salty but sweet chocolate, with a trademark curl on the front. But not only are there no Dairy Queen® stores in Europe, nobody has even heard of the Dairy Queen brand. I’d never felt so lost.
As we celebrate our 70th birthday this year, I can’t help but think I’ve taken for granted the wonderful brand I work for. Sure, I picnicked where Caesar Augustus picnicked, ate crepes mere meters from Napoleon Bonaparte’s summer home and had truffles by Roger Federer’s home court. The weird thing is, none of these experiences compared to how I feel when I eat DQ® food and treats. We’re a legacy.
I remember nothing more vivid than how excited I was when Grandma would take us to the local DQ store, visions of cherry Dilly Bars dancing in my head. I guess what I’m trying to say is, Europe can have their art, architecture and history, but give me a Dilly Bar and red-roofed building any day. Little league teams stop after wins and losses, couples become engaged over Peanut Buster® Parfaits, and motorcycle groups tour states stopping at our stores. The list goes on and on.
It’s good to be home.