King Charles I of England knew how to throw a feast. After one particularly sumptuous meal, the king’s French-born court chef debuted a new dish, a magical confection the consistency of fresh-fallen snow, yet uncommonly sweet and creamy. Charles, quite delighted, summoned the chef and requested that the recipe for the frozen delight be held in royal secrecy, and that it be served only in the king’s presence. Eventually Charles I fell out of favor and was beheaded by his people. See what happens when you don’t share your ice cream?
Smooth or chunky, tangy or sweet, ice cream may be the one thing we all maintain a cold spot for in our warm, warm hearts. It’s not just the melty sweetness that endears us; it’s the sparking of delicious memories like running after an ice cream truck, or gazing through eight-year-old eyes at a lovely ball of vanilla flecked with the dark chocolate crumbs from a birthday cake. It’s about the agreeable challenge of choosing a flavor, and the pleasure of sitting on a patio with a double-stacked sugar cone and vainly damning the drips with an eager tongue. Ice cream might not even really be a food. Judging by the euphoric look on my two-year-old’s chocolate-swathed face, and by my own furtive efforts to excavate the best parts of the container before I fill the family bowls, ice cream may in fact be a drug.
While the stingy King Charles plays a role in ice cream history and lore, he—or, rather, his chef—is not the unchallenged source. There is no definitive story about the origins of ice cream. The Roman emperor Nero was said to send runners into the mountains to procure ice for the fruity, creamy drinks he favored. It’s possible that Marco Polo witnessed the Chinese enjoying frosty ice treats and brought their recipe back to Italy. Catherine de Medici’s chefs may have imported the technique to France, but no one has provided conclusive proof.
The origins of the ice cream cone may be easier to pin down. Italo Marchiony, a pushcart ice cream vendor in New York, grew tired of Wall Street customers breaking or walking off with his glass serving dishes. He began baking edible cookie-cups with sloping sides and flat bottoms as serving receptacles, and patented the idea in 1903. Nothing, however, provides exposure like a World’s Fair, and during the St. Louis fair of 1904, a Syrian immigrant selling waffles came to the aid of the harried ice cream vendor next door by fashioning “cornucopias.” A trend was born, and, as is the American Way, litigation ensued as multiple inventors came forth with varying ingredients and shapes for the inevitable cone.
However you serve it—cone or cup, malt or shake—there are essentially two ways to prepare ice cream: with egg or without. Traditional ice cream has no eggs. It can be made with many other things, but generally features sugar, cream, and flavoring (like a dark, earthy vanilla bean); this type is sometimes called Philadelphia-style ice cream. The version made with eggs is generally known as custard or gelato. Along with the eggy distinction, custards are denser, as they are mixed with less air than traditional ice creams, which leads to their signature silky-smooth texture. Because custard is kept at a lower temperature than ice cream, it must be made fresh daily to maintain its consistency. Custard isn’t omnipresent in the Twin Cities, but many might be surprised to learn that our Midwestern neighbor, Milwaukee, considers itself “The Custard Capital of the World” and has magical little custard shacks on seemingly every corner.
Locally, we are blessed with an ice cream culture that embraces our need to celebrate the return of warmth and sun. The transient nature of a frozen treat is a metaphor for our fleeting patio time, and so it’s with great relish that we herald the reopening of our favorite ice cream shops, eager to taste the new season’s flavors.
There’d probably be street protests, however, if Sebastian Joe’s didn’t offer its raspberry chocolate chip year-round. It’s almost a Minneapolis institution, so much so that I’d recommend that Claes Oldenburg’s Spoonbridge & Cherry in the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden feature a lovin’ scoop. And God forbid you should leave Sebastian Joe’s without one of its mammoth versions of a Dilly Bar.
For prestige, you might opt for Sonny’s ice cream. It’s highly regarded by many chefs in town, more than a few of whom commission exclusive flavors to serve in their establishments. The Crema Café, the headquarters of Sonny’s, is also a hot spot among the local gourmand crowd. Crema’s innovative flavor combinations—including strawberry balsamic and cucumber sake—have made the annual reopening a signature spring event.
An izzy is a gift. With every order of ice cream from Izzy’s, you get a miniature additional scoop, called an izzy, perched prettily atop your order. Cake batter, cotton candy and other flavors of your childhood fantasies are freshly made in house, along with their thick and crunchy waffle cones, which have another gift, a lovely surprise, in the bottom.
In its second year, the Pumphouse Creamery in South Minneapolis seems to be really hitting its stride. Here, the ice cream is made entirely with natural, local, and organic ingredients. Try the mesmerizing Guinness flavor or Kulfi, an aromatic and herbaceous mixture of pistachio, cardamom, and rosewater, while strolling the neighborhood.
Custard lovers who don’t have the time for a junket to Milwaukee will want to go directly to Glaciers in Wayzata. It’s a tiny shop where a chef—yes, a chef—makes the magic. The daily custards are a marvel, but Glaciers’ true attractions are the custard pies and cakes (pumpkin spice for the holidays, peppermint twist for your birthday) that would put to shame the home efforts of most any of us.
Licks Unlimited in Excelsior comes out of hibernation each May, when the smell of warm cones and the sound of the shop’s circling toy trains once again drift into the street. The customary line forms as generations mark the return of summer. People shuffle over from the movie theater across the street, and the sidewalks teem with strollers toasting the evening air with a mocha chip cone. Licks is the place my kids crave, and the bench out front is where you’ll often find me until that sad day in October … which we won’t dwell on right now. There’s a lot of ice cream to be eaten.
Making your own ice cream has never been easier; solid ice cream machines can be found for around thirty dollars. Of course, the main reason to make your own is to get creative with flavors—a good place to start is by adding mint to strawberry or cayenne pepper to a good basic chocolate. Think of pairing up saffron and ginger, pine nuts and honey, plums and lemongrass; those brave enough might even venture toward Japanese favorites like ox tongue or chicken wing ice cream.
Sebastian Joe’s 1007 W. Franklin Ave., Minneapolis, 612-872-5240. Sonny’s Crema Cafe 3403 Lyndale Ave. S., Minneapolis; 612-824-3868. Izzy’s Ice Cream Cafe 2034 Marshall Ave., St. Paul, 651-603-1458; 825 Nicollet Mall, Minneapolis, 612-338-0022. Pumphouse Creamery 4754 Chicago Ave. S., Minneapolis, 612-825-2021. Glaciers Coffee & Custard 888 Superior Blvd., Wayzata, 952-473-8518. Licks Unlimited 31 Water St., Excelsior, 952-474-4791.
Basic Ice Cream (Philly Style)
2½ cups cream
¾ cup sugar
2 T. vanilla extract
Over medium heat, heat cream in heavy saucepan until small bubbles appear around the edges. Make sure not to boil. Remove from the heat and add sugar, stirring until it’s completely dissolved. Allow mixture to cool slightly and add vanilla. Cover and refrigerate until cold. Freeze in ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions. When adding thick flavorings or chunky bits, do so once the ice cream is semi-frozen. For firmer ice cream, transfer to a different container and freeze for around two hours.
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