I remember this stuff from my childhood. My parents used to buy that 3-tiered ice cream for me from the supermarket, and I used to call it Napoleon ice cream. Took me until I was in junior high before I realised it was “Neapolitan”.
Freeze drying it was a stroke of genius, as my mum hates mess and there are few things messier than a child with rapidly melting ice cream on a hot July in Toronto. You had me at freeze-dried.
That and my phonetic pronunciation of Garfield’s lasagne and my inability to differentiate between pheasants and peasants as a child. Endearing, non?
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