Sunday, 21 August 2011

the icecreamists

the icecreamists, covent garden
friday turned out to the perfect day to eat lots of ice-cream. and that's not just because it was sunny and warm, but because o has recently been through a new fangled laser tonsillectomy which justifies his consumption of ice-cream in copious quantities. as we know there is no shortage of cold summer treats in the form of sorbets and gelato around london. in fact london seems to be so caught up in its love affair with gelato that its creamier cousin ice-cream would rightly feel neglected. what got me thinking about gelato vs. ice-cream was an earlier visit to the icecreamists. my first visit to the icecreamists did not live up to all the hype about it. the vanilla was too milky and lacking depth of flavour. espresso yourself was too inhibited, as if it has been decaffeinated. in addition the consistency was watery. although service was impeccable, the cheekiness of the staff along with the victoria secret-esque pink and black theme seemed too over-sexy for a very ordinary ice-cream experience.

so you're probably wondering why o and i were back? well, clearly the icecreamists is run by a serious ice-cream aficionado who keeps a very close eye on what's being said about his ice-cream. what started of as a twitter conversation ended on o and i being called back to give the icecreamists and vice cream cocktails a second chance. we were met by steven who manages the covent garden branch and led upstairs to the dictators room. we loved the pop art on the walls! o was most taken by the cone-el gaddafi but for me it was the cameron poster with a flake in his mouth and the caption 99 fake. i let steven decide on what we should try and here's what we got; two cocktails, the miss whiplash and the molotoffee and three scoops of ice-cream including nuts about chocland yard and taking the pistachio dressed with a dark chocolate cone.

cone-el gadafi
99 fake
 we loved the pomp and circumstance of the molotoffee cocktail. a really creamy and light caramel dulce de leche ice-cream with a hint of banana and apple covered with meringue that was blow-torched infront of us and then spritzed with rum. it was a bit like a well-dressed lady powdering herself in a powder room. we definitely enjoyed this. the star for me was the ice-cream which was creamy and not cloyingly sweet like most dulce de leche ice-creams tend to be. for the ice-creams the combination of taking the pistachio and nuts about chocland yard was just right. the closest o and i have had to a good pistachio comes out of italian tub called antonio federici but as with all things that come out of boxes, it is followed with an undesirable aftertaste. if you like pistachio come here. you won't be disappointed. the flavour is so intense it's like eating a cold creamed pistachio butter. whilst we were eating o was quizzing steven about the breast milk ice-cream and was very satisfied with the details that he was given. i had a chance to speak to him about ice-cream vs. gelato and discovered that the boutique element for icecreamists is using traditional italian principles of gelato combined with those of making ice-cream. having had a lot of gelato and ice-cream i have come to appreciate the textures and flavours of both. at the icecreamists you can feel the intensity of the taste that you get from gelato but with the heavier creamier texture and consistency of ice-cream. i feel guilty for having neglected miss pussy whip. so caught up were we with the molotoffee and trio of ice-cream that we almost forgot this fiery berry coloured vodka spiked sorbet. it packed a alcoholic punch and would be good on a hot sunny day. it would be best enjoyed solo as it's flavours are clean and citrus. 
a little bit of blow torch action
so, it looks like o and i will come back, definitely for taking the pistachio and the nutella like nuts about chocland yard. the vice cream cocktails will be reserved for when we're feeling indulgent (only because they are pricier). meanwhile, a and i are contemplating returning for the gay themed queens of the dessert pop-up. i am quite intrigued by the brokeback mountain as i love banana splits. and if i do have it, the only angst it will bring is not the sadness of the trials of homosexuality but the tragedy of 'a moment on the lips forever on the hips'. why must all the best things in life be so calorific? too bad we will be coming during the week, otherwise i could have found comfort in my gay bff's wisdom of 'weekend calories don't count'.

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