Never. The cup has two problems. One is the actual cup. Small isn’t necessarily bad. We Americans don’t have to eat all the ice cream every time we eat ice cream, even though we seem to try. It’s just that the Hoodsie cup is too small. Adults need a touch more than 3 ounces to maintain the fine line between enjoyment and “Wait. That’s it?”

The second issue? Hoodsies aren’t that great. We loved them as kids, but of course we did. We were kids, and kids will eat anything that’s called ice cream. They’ll even chew on the wooden spoons, proving that kids know nothing and have no taste.

The real issue is that some of us have never moved on, still confusing regional loyalty with actual quality. It’s not just with the Hoodsie. It’s with Dunks, and the Fenway Frank, and the local pizza shop that you have to visit every time you’re back home because you swear it’s the best—when it’s not.

Oh, there’s actually a third problem. The Hoodsie hasn’t changed at all. Gus Rancatore, founder and owner of Toscanini’s ice cream, calls it “an ignored, iconic product.” It’s proverbially been wearing sweatpants since its introduction in 1947, and that makes it hard to stand out, let alone be thought about, in the supermarket freezer section, where the cups are usually relegated to the bottom row.

As it is, no adult is sitting in an Adirondack chair or cruising around in a doorless, roofless Jeep realizing, “You know what I need right now?” There’s only one way a Hoodsie falls into a grownup’s hands. “Hey, thanks for staying for the party. We got extras. Don’t be shy.” And you think, “It’s been decades. Why not? I used to love them.” And then: “Oh wow, this added artificial flavor is gonna linger.”

The Hoodsie is nostalgia. Nostalgia is not a dessert. You’re an adult. Get a real cone.

Got a question for the Salty Cod? Send it to [email protected].