How ice cream got cool

Spectator

14 hours ago

In the depths of winter last year, an ice cream and wine bar opened in Islington. The Dreamery serves ice creams and sorbets in silver goblets with tiny vintage spoons. On the ceiling is a glowing mural of happy cows and a sun with a face, resembling a child's finger-painting (the artist is Lucy Stein, daughter of Rick). Outside, neighbours whisper about a recent Dua Lipa spotting.
The Dreamery is inspired by the Parisian ice cream and wine bar Folderol, and makes fairly sophisticated flavours such as salted ricotta blueberry and Greek mountain tea. It is TikTok chic – a gamble, after Folderol unwillingly became a viral sensation and ended up sticking up signs saying: 'No TikTok. Be here to have fun, not to take pictures.'
Ice cream shops in Britain are not a novel idea, but establishing one is still a brave and perhaps foolhardy endeavour. Ice cream weather (it can be quantified – ice cream doesn't melt properly on the tongue in temperatures below about 14°C) lasts half of the year if we're lucky, and most of us only crave it during the hottest days of high summer. Even if it's reasonably warm, there is often still the wind and rain to spoil things.
Yet the British demand for ice cream seems to be growing – and not just during a heatwave. You might have noticed the glut of parlours cropping up on high streets: the ubiquitous Creams, Kaspa's, tourist-packed Amorino, the dubious American imports of Baskin Robbins and Cold Stone Creamery. In the past decade, 700 ice cream and dessert shops have opened up across the UK. Some do simple scoops, others paddle silky heaps of Italian gelato, and many more serve those made-for-Instagram monstrosities drowned in chocolate 'drizzle'.
I wouldn't be surprised if social media, which seems to have become the driver of most of our consumer desires, has played a large part in whetting our appetites for ice cream. Nearly 50 million posts tagged #icecream can be found on Instagram. Some cooks-slash-influencers – such as Mei Liao, who films herself making Sichuan-inspired flavours in a £60 Cuisinart churner – receive more than a million views on their videos. Many are keen to let you in on the secrets of their 'two-ingredient ice cream' – simple but for the fact that there are more than two ingredients and you need a highly specialised piece of equipment to make it. But this is immaterial. What matters is that by attempting to replicate their recipes, you too can get in touch with your inner domestic goddess (or god).
This is much easier to do now that you can find reasonably affordable, if impractical, ice cream machines in most major retailers. The Ninja CREAMi, which has a revolting name and seems primarily used for making frozen low-calorie protein shakes, was released in 2021 and sells for around £200. It doesn't technically make ice cream in the traditional sense, as it only blends frozen ingredients rather than whipping air into them, but let's not be pedantic about it.
Farah Kezouh, half of the team behind London-based Soft and Swirly, tells me that what is ripe and in season, not what is going to 'go viral', dictates the flavours she and her partner Sam Lowry make. 'It just happens that ice cream is very Instagrammable, especially when it comes out of the soft serve machine,' she says. 'Influencers are looking for the next trend, and ice cream might be that at the moment. I'm not sure if that's going to last, but it's definitely good that people are trying to create ice creams that are not just your industrial ones.'
Deep down, perhaps the hype around ice cream is all just part of the quest to return to the comfort and safety of childhood. Farah says she sees a 'childlike joy' in her customers, no matter their age. Ice cream is often tied to our most treasured memories of childhood: summer holidays by the sea, or the excitement of hearing the jingle of the ice cream van. For many, it's a recollection of the first instance where we experienced the weight and glorious freedom of choice: vanilla, or chocolate?
How to make Sicilian-style ice cream
There are two popular ways of making ice cream: Philadelphia-style, which consists of a dairy and sugar base, and French-style, which consists of a custard base with eggs, dairy and sugar. On the opposite side of the richness-spectrum you have sherbets, sorbets and granitas. But is that all?
Actually, there is a middle way: Sicilian-style ice cream. Italians are notoriously neurotic about their digestive systems – hence no cappuccinos after 11 a.m., no iced drinks, aperitivo before dinner and digestivo after, the passeggiata. Sicilian-style substitutes cornstarch for egg yolks and some of the cream, which are apparently bad for digestion.
This method results in a refreshing, light 'milk ice' that takes very little time (and leaves no leftover egg whites). The reduced amount of cream lets delicate flavours really shine through without having to jostle with the dairy or eggs.
I like to flavour mine with fig leaves, which smell like English summer but more precisely of toasted coconut, vanilla and a bitter note of something like green peppers. There is a magnificent fig tree in St James's Park which lately has been especially fragrant during my lunchtime walks. If you cannot find fig leaves, I recommend fresh mint or fresh or dry bay leaves which can be obtained from most supermarkets.
This recipe can be made without a machine (see step 9*) and is remarkably easy – I learned it from Kitty Travers of La Grotta Ices in her intro to ice cream-making course at the School of Artisan Food.
Fig leaf ice cream
You will need:
500ml whole milk
150ml double cream
130g + 30g granulated sugar
15g cornstarch
2 large fig leaves
Prepare a large bowl of ice water, or alternatively fill your sink with ice water. This will be used to cool down the ice cream base, so make sure it is large enough for a pot to half-submerge in. Whisk the 30g sugar and 15g cornstarch in a large bowl and set aside. Combine the milk, cream and remaining sugar in a pot, preferably one with a slight lip. Warm over a low heat, stirring often, until the milk begins to steam. Remove the pot from the stove and pour the hot liquid into the bowl of sugar and cornstarch. Whisk the mixture as you pour to prevent the cornstarch from clumping. When the mixture is fully combined, pour it back into the pot and return to the heat until it begins to thicken. Put the bowl to the side and place a sieve over it. Once thickened, add the fig leaves to the mixture, turn off the heat and place the pot into your bowl or sink of ice water for three minutes. After three minutes, pour the mixture through the sieve covering the other bowl. Squeeze the fig leaves over the mixture to get as much flavour out as you can, then discard. Put the bowl into the ice water and stir often to cool it down faster. Once at room temperature, put it into a clean container (or cover the bowl with plastic wrap) and place it in the fridge overnight. This allows the flavour to 'age' and also improves texture when it comes time to churn. In the morning (my preference – ice cream and espresso are lovely together) churn according to your machine's instructions. It should take about 25 minutes to come together and will be quite light and whippy.
* If you don't have an ice cream machine, simply place the mixture into a well-sealed plastic bag and place that into a large plastic bag filled with 100g rock salt and 800g ice. Knead the bags against a stable surface for about five minutes and with a bit of sweat, you'll have perfectly good ice cream.
Place into tubs and freeze for at least two hours to get a 'scoopable' consistency. But remember that ice cream is never so good as when it's freshly churned. This recipe makes enough for one pint and a bit – enjoy the 'bit' straight away. If I'm feeling fancy, I'll scoop this into a champagne coupe and pour a bit of lemonade over it.
When using bay leaves, I like to use about five or six large dried ones. These can be steeped for a bit longer, usually five minutes, and add a pinch or two of salt to really bring out the savouriness of the leaves.
For mint, steep 20g for about 15 minutes. I like to add more chopped mint just as the ice cream is about to come together in the churner. You can also drizzle a thin stream of melted dark chocolate over the ice cream at this point to make it a mint stracciatella.