|"Cambridge Ice Box" oil on panel, 12" x 16", 2015|
The ice house I remember was on Mellor Avenue in my hometown. We'd back into the loading dock and the ice man would step down swinging his tongs one-handed as he plunked a large chunk of ice into the rear compartment of our station wagon. My father had the job of attacking it with an ice pick making the ice more manageable for what ever event we had planned.
I've often wondered about real ice boxes and how many times per week ice had to be delivered to keep the food from spoiling. In those hot Baltimore row house kitchens I'm sure there was a lot of melting ice. I favor this model because it's white and seems so friendly. I've seen many wooden oak types in antique shops but they seem too formal for my taste in vintage appliances.