We're well into summer, and naturally one's thoughts turn to cold, frosty treats. One that stands head-and-shoulders above all others: the root beer float, AKA the black cow, AKA the zorch cow. This icy combination of all-American* root beer and vanilla ice cream seems simple at first, but deceptively so. In order to make one, you just plop a scoop or two of ice cream in a glass of root beer and that's it, right? Wrong! The craft of root beer float making is an art unto itself; a traditional craft handed down from generation to generation with a cult like devotion. Fortunately, I'm lucky enough to come from a family in which both paternal and maternal branches included worshipers of the black cow.

So, for the uninitiated or the merely misguided, here's how you make a real root beer float. First, assemble your tools. Tall glasses or mugs... check. Spoons. Straws are a necessity—if you don't have them then just stop right now and go get some or just don't bother. An ice cream scoop. Put the glasses in the freezer, although if this is an emergency unfrosted ones will do.

Now, you're ready to assemble your ingredients. Of course there are only two: root beer and vanilla ice cream. Get good root beer. Boutique root beers like Virgil's and Henry Weinhard's abound. IBC is good, too. A&W will serve in a pinch. Ice cream should be good, but not too good. Ben and Jerry's is out, but Breyer’s or Dreyer’s is just fine.

Take your glasses out of the freezer, and begin to assemble your root beer floats. First, take a small scoop of ice cream and put it in the bottom of the glass. Add a splash of root beer. Now, take a spoon and smush the ice cream and root beer together. You heard me: SMUSH! This breaks up the ice cream and helps create the necessary and desirable foam indicative of a quality root beer float.

Plop in another scoop of ice cream (or two) and then pour over the root beer. Pour slowly as you get to the top of the glass and allow the foam to rise up. Repeat as necessary.

* Non-Americans don't like root beer. At least a Spanish friend of mine in college pronounced it "disgusting" and said that it reminded him of yucky childhood medicine, so I'm making a blanket assumption based on that.