I HAD never been so grateful to see a banana.

Peeled and skewered, just plucked from the freezer, it was nearly smoking from the cold. It was then plunged into molten chocolate, sprinkled with sea salt and slowly twirled under a shower of crushed almonds.

Made to order at Nana’s, a stand found Saturdays at Smorgasburg in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, it costs $5, or $4 for one dipped in chocolate but without any other toppings.

You scoff? You could do this at home? The banana — organic and Fair Trade, if you please — was at the exact tipping point of ripeness and had attained a level of freeze commonly associated with preserving bodies for future resuscitation. The chocolate was a deep, unholy dark. Its heat thawed the banana just enough that you could eat it right away without your gums going numb.

It was a momentary reprieve from the fry pan of a hot afternoon. I was on the hunt for the icy treats of summer, the fly-by-night sweets that materialize come June at street fairs and flea markets, on odd corners, in temporary storefronts, then dissolve into the mists of fall.