Innovations in Dessert Delivery

Recently, groups of protesters marched in streets across the nation on behalf of science. And, as many of them know, standing up for a cause must never stop at a march or a Facebook update or a post to one’s ice cream blog. We must champion scientific innovation and vote with our dollars. For that reason, I present to you a an adaptation of a Powerpoint report I did at work on the Innovations in Dessert Delivery, some of the most important scientific studies being done today in service to humanity.

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Trends come and go in the world of sweets: cupcakes are not as hot as maple bacon doughnuts are not as hot as cronuts. But sometimes innovative product delivery can be just as effective for boosting sales as innovative products.

Once upon a time, someone (possibly Albert Doumar) imagined a method of eating ice cream that eliminated waste and was good for on-the-go. Over a century later, the ice cream cone is part of ice cream culture both domestically and internationally.

Here are some of the interesting trends in how dessert is delivered to the consumer. Some still involve a customer service medium:

• Made-to-order: This in-store trend has been big for a decade now, whether regional doughnut chains like Duck Donuts and Fractured Prune, a global chain like Cold Stone mixing whatever you like into the ice cream flavor of your choice or an Asian cream puff chain that focuses on natural ingredients. spreading to America, Beard Papa's.

• Serve yourself: Taking a page from those tasteful soft-serve sundae bars at buffets, frozen yogurt chains are letting customers choose how much froyo and toppings they want, combining as many flavors as they want. All the people behind the counter have to do is weigh the customer's custom sundae and collect their money...and clean up the mess that soccer team made of the birthday cake/cotton candy twist machine.

• Delivered to your home: Cookies straight to your door, for those late night, um, studying sessions. Originally founded with college campuses in mind, working adults can see the benefits of Insomnia Cookies' late-night delivery, too.

Others eliminate customer service altogether:

• Vending machine: Ice cream vending machines have been casting their glow on airport breezeways for years now, but now regional chains are entering the market. Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams now has an ice cream vending machine in the Columbus, Ohio airport and Ted Drewe's has one in the St. Louis airport.

• ATM: Just as cupcakes are a cutesy dessert that has cashed in on style-before-substance nostalgia, the Sprinkles' Cupcake ATM seems a perfect method for a not-quite-adult to delight in their empty calories while getting their dessert in a method that's like Fisher Price Talking Elmo ATM meets Easy-Bake oven, all so willing consumers can stand in line to be treated like the insipid children that they are. The ATM is even bright pink!

• Gumball machine: Playing the nostalgia card in a different way, New York's Baked by Melissa created cupcake gumball machine for events rental.

One has to wonder the next innovation to be imagined and made real by dessert scientists. What do you think it will be?

Can Ice Cream Fix the Pothole Problem?

I've already discussed the spring thaw in Chicago. One of the more tangible effects is how the roads and sidewalks get damaged from the winter freeze.  And one artist has found a way to keep the spring thaw from turning into the summer time blues in Chicago and Finland. You see, there ain't no cure for the summer time blues, unless of course ice cream is involved. Check out this article with pictures of Jim Bachor's answer to the pothole problem: ice cream mosaics.

Horror-themed Ben & Jerry's Parodies

In the wake of my X-rated post on Ben & Jerry's legal dispute with an adult video company comes an R-rated slasher post.

Artwork by Frank Browning.
Made exclusively for freddyinspace.com
as featured on ihorror.com

The folks over at iHorror conceived of a long list of horror film-themed Ice Screams, complete with artwork for the pints. Having never been a horror buff, I'm delighted to see some I can really sink my teeth into honoring some films I enjoy, like American Psycho, The Shining, Ghostbusters and Army of Darkness. What might be even more impressive than the hilarious flavor names are the truly bizarre flavors. They range from horrifying (mint with a cherry swirl) to a tad strange (marshmallow ice cream with fruit swirls) to unexpected-and-curious (cake batter with cherry and almonds) to tasty (pumpkin ice cream with dark chocolate) to YES! TAKE MY MONEY! (Hi-C Ecto Cooler ice cream).

So go read the article. Quick, before I spoil the funny flavor names!


(I do not own any of the content (other than that linked in the first sentence), but I am promoting the iHorror article for it's shared interest with this blog. If anyone connected with iHorror or this content would like me to take any part of this down, I will.)

Because Peeps are not yet bacon-flavored.

Hippity hoppity, Easter's on its way. You've been warned.
© Waters Edge Church

What to do with all that leftover Easter candy? Make an Epic Easter Casserole, of course! In this expertly-crafted parody of Epic Meal Time, a surly Easter bunny reminds you to waste not, want not.

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Though there's nothing in the video to suggest it, this video was made by a church. (The only evidence is the Jack Daniels being replaced by the equally nauseating Mountain Dew.) I don't know anything about this church or their views, but kudos to them for making a solid video with the sole aim of having fun. I wouldn't mind if my church followed their lead.

Thanks to Angie W. for sharing.

Mr. T Coloring Contest

Sighted in a recent visit to Seattle's Bluebird. I hope these decorations hang for many years.
 

 

Ice Cream for the Baltimore "Herbanite"

There's something nostalgic and wholesome about selling ice cream from an ice cream truck. There's something foul and unsavory about dealing marijuana that is stored in one's underwear. Unsurprisingly, these two business models have never been considered for overlap. Until now.

Most people would consider it despicable to try selling drugs to kids when they are buying ice cream. Yes, it may be an unreasonable upsell, but on the flipside it is undeniably innovative to sell ice cream to potheads with the munchies! Two birds, one stoned. Consider also the forethought: both products are mobile by nature. Transporting them in the same vehicle is efficient and cost-cutting.

It is easy to paint this man as a bad apple and, joking aside, his alleged actions were certainly justifiable for arrest. But wasn't he simply mimicking the same unethical opportunism that this country has rewarded in recent years? I wonder how a ghetto entrepreneur being brought to justice might differ if he were, say, a creditor (a) taking part in predatory lending, (b) making money betting against the home owner's capacity to repay their subprime loans, (c) foreclosing homes and/or (d) giving himself several million dollars in bonuses using government bailout money? Which would more likely get off scot-free? And which has caused the greater damage: a inner-city pot dealer or the corrupt perpetuant of the housing crisis/recession? Only one is in jail.

Cicada Ice Cream

I’d gladly take things that go bump in the night over things that go chirp in my stomach.

When Sparky’s in Columbia, MO created cicada ice cream it became an instant legend, not just for being the most gastronomically grotesque creation of the year, but also for batting a thousand. Only one batch was made and it sold out in just thirty minutes. The store pulled the flavor before it made a second batch because the health department did not give its endorsement; apparently the most hygienic cicada preparation has not been fully researched.

In all seriousness, more spooky than brown sugar and bug ice cream is that anything “not specifically provided for in the local health code” is understood to be illegal. Bureaucratic red flagging in food regulation is the same battle being fought by Nice Cream in Chicago. I’m certainly no authority on the subject, but I worry for the future of small businesses.

(Thanks to Laurie for the tip.)

Turkish Hospitality

My friend Lisa shared this video of a Turkish ice cream vendor having some fun with a tourist. The scoop-smith’s talents bridge the gap between Cocktail bartender and vaudeville clown. Really quite impressive! Give it a watch.

Some pictures leave us without any words.

I think it’s fair to say that I wear my heart on my sleeve. That being said, I have never felt the need to have it tattooed on my arm or, to an even lesser degree, tattooed on my face. Unsurprisingly, Gucci Mane, processes life differently than I.

Back in January, the rapper, who famously wears a chain around his neck with an ice cream cone on it, celebrated his release from a mental institution by getting a brand new tattoo. On his face. Of an ice cream cone. With lightning bolts coming out from it. Someone may have had too many sprinkles on his sundae.

Along with the now infamous Twitter photo (linked above), an artist’s recreation of Mr. Mane (and his ink) serves as cover art for his latest release, The Return of Mr. Zone 6. The lyrics of “Mouth Full of Gold” give us a little insight: “Ice cream on my face and chain ‘cause that's the life that I live, shawty."

Breast Milk Ice Cream

This concept first entered my world in 2008 when PETA wrote a letter to Ben & Jerry's urging them to explore this untapped natural resource. Now, for Freudian fanatics everywhere, the dream has come true and is for sale. This product is from London's The Icecreamists, who when I last reported were being threatened with a lawsuit from the Sex Pistols frontman.

Somewhere David Lynch is smiling.

I knew I was in for a long night when the opening band didn’t start until after the hour headliners usually wrap it up. My best friend’s band had scored their biggest gig yet opening for Arcade Fire. I’d never been to the venue before and being that it was too small for a group like Arcade Fire—a sort of snubbed nose gymnasium with retractable wooden stadium seating and a balcony, but too small for a basketball court—gobs of people were everywhere. Magically, though, an area seemed to clear everywhere I went, even when I was pogoing on the center floor to James’ music in the brightly lit auditorium. It was then I noticed that a singer for his now sizable back-up band, which previously had fluctuated from two to three and back again, was another friend, John Thomas. Pretty strange since they live on opposite coasts; I hadn’t even been aware that he and James stayed in touch. But there he was, contributing to every song of the set, which other than the opener was entirely new material that focused on the full band sound.

It wasn’t until the after party that I came face to face with John. We were two quiet moths in a swarm of loud partiers when John took a seat across from me and I noticed that he looked like an amalgamation of his younger selves, like a 90-pound weakling college freshman with an 8^th grade haircut. I called his name across the modest dining table, but the words must have flown out the darkened window before they could make it to his ear. My facial expressions insisted on eye contact until he confusingly responded to my persistent calls of his name. He said he wasn’t John. I got mad.

These are just early glimpses of one of my rare all-nighters. I made appearances at numerous parties crowded with people, who strangely were all younger than me. It ended serenely at the purple hour of dawn where, taking in the stillness of the moment, I stood outside a crab shack with budding feelings of new love—someone I knew from high school drama club with whom I had recently reconnected on Facebook (though admittedly she’d never crossed my mind between friending her and running into each other that night, just as she’d never crossed my mind between curtain call senior year and seeing her name in my Friend Requests). We stood on a thin strip of land between two bodies of water—specifically an isthmus, though I didn’t know this at the time—marveling that we now occupied the space between day and night: one direction showed the clear horizon changing color, while the cloud covered sky overhead only got darker until far away in the other direction, somewhere, it was still midnight.

But my Glass family ramblings haven’t just gotten me off-topic, it has missed the focus completely. Somewhere between confronting John Thomas’ doppelganger and the purple dawn I stopped in at an all-night backroad ice cream shoppe. I asked the owner what flavors he still had in stock. He named a litany of old standards, but one stood out as strange. “Douglas Fir?” “Douglas Fir.”

The Pacific Northwest is full of weird places, but they are far surpassed by the dream world. I mean, as far as dessert goes, how do you figure choosing conifer trees over deciduous?

Happy Howl-O-Ween!

Scene from the 6th Annual Happy Howl-O-Ween Dog Parade & Costume Contest, sponsored by the Andersonville South Neighborhood Association.

Doughnut Burger

It seemed appropriate to follow my last entry about mustard ice cream with this.

The report in the Christian Science Monitor might say it best: "Admittedly, the Krispy Kreme Cheeseburger (KKC) sounds atrocious to just about everyone who hasn't tried one...About a quarter of its customers were pitching in an extra buck for the side order of chocolate-covered bacon."

If anyone tries it, please report back.


Note from 2012: Though it wasn't at a Krispy Kreme, Boren and I tried a donut burger on our well-documented 2011 road trip.

Put That On Your Dog and Eat It

It is no secret that I do not like bananas or coffee and feel their presence in ice cream to be a waste of heavy cream, but an even more awful ice cream flavor has emerged. Still, I do admire them for their imagination.

(excerpt from Chicago Tribune article, "Mustard Day relishes its favorite condiment")

"Thousands of people are expected to show up in Middleton, Wis., Aug. 7 to figuratively paint the town yellow in celebration of National Mustard Day.

"...Culver's, a Wisconsin-based quick-service restaurant chain noted for its butter burger and frozen custard, will present a mustard ice cream studded with pretzels."

Garlic Ice Cream (*contains no Twilight jokes*)

Ever since I heard it existed, I’ve wanted to try making it. And then I heard it is actually a gourmet thing to serve, not just a weird fascination for those who’ve had one Chipwich too many. So I went online and printed at least 10 recipes. And recently I made the obsession a reality.

Garlic ice cream would be, thus far, my only experience with a savory ice cream (unless you count the Asian classic Red Bean), so I wanted to get it right. Most of the recipes were identical but used ice cube trays instead of an ice cream maker, which made them inferior. One featured five heads—Heads! Not cloves!—of roasted garlic. But I settled on a recipe that called for five cloves and no sugar.

I wanted to get it right, so I followed the recipe closely. But what the heck does it mean when it says “Let it thicken into a pudding-like consistency until it coats the back of a spoon” but “Don’t let it thicken so much it curdles”? Thinner lines have not been walked by man. On top of that, I wasn’t entirely sure what coating the back of the spoon meant since any liquid seems to do that on first contact with a spoon. Also, I admit wasn’t entirely sure what curdling was, both physically and chemically. Based on the scrambled egg texture when it was actually getting thick, I’m pretty sure I learned what curdling was.

I then strained the mixture, which at this point had one of the foulest odors I’ve ever encountered (short of the shrimp paste I smelled when I took a Thai cooking class or the time I witnessed a lutefisk eating contest). After straining, there remained almost two cups worth of the liquid mixture to chill overnight. The scrambled egg stuff was promptly trashed and soon after taken to the dumpster to distance myself from the stench, which still floated around the apartment for at least one sickening hour before I left for the evening. The smell made me less than sure of this culinary fascination.

Boren and his special lady friend Jamie came over to my stench-free apartment the next day with mango chili and roasted asparagus al parmigiano, nice compliments to my mashed potatoes, store-bought unsweetened apple sauce and—the centerpiece of the evening—garlic ice cream. My guests dolloped small spoonfuls of the g.i.c. onto their mashed potatoes, and, unlike their host, they did so without hesitation. Ponderous chewing nods were quick to follow and the decree that it was like chilled garlic butter without the salt.

And then we tried it on the asparagus. My goodness was that brilliant. It unlocked secret flavors most people don’t realize are contained within those tiny green stalks.

Jamie elaborates: “The garlic ice cream was much milder than I expected, more like a frozen crème fraîche infused with garlic. The garlic was so faint that it didn't hit my palate until after the cream started melting, which was actually wonderful. Even though it had no sugar, the sweetness of the cream really came through and it was best when combined with salty and pungent dishes; I enjoyed it more on the roasted asparagus than I did on the mashed potatoes. I'd love to try it again with the flavor being stronger (and maybe supplemented by another flavor - smoked paprika? Black pepper?), so I could see how it would taste with a milder base (like the mashed potatoes). But it was one of the best asparagus toppings I've ever tried.”

I was the last at the table to try the ice cream solo, with nothing to dull the horror I expected after the cooking stench. But it really wasn’t strong. Nothing I’ll be cooking at my next pot luck, but not a bad experiment.

Field Report: Albino Asparagus Ice Cream!

This Halloween's spooky tale is from my friend Logan about his trip to Germany. Enjoy!

When it comes to ice cream, there really isn't much to be afraid of unless, of course, we all scream for ice cream to cool the burning acid a mysterious killer dumped on us while we were trying to run away. But even in that case the ice cream is a cool, comforting, life saving substance. I have probably only been frightened by ice cream once, but is because of that that experience that Brad and Marisa have asked me to to supplement their regular blogly offerings with this frightening tale of cold, creamy horror.

It all began in Erlangen, Germany, in the early part of the decade when I was visiting a friend of the family with my German grandmother. That person was Dieter, an Engineer for Siemens corporation. So while I was waxing my mustache and buttoning my leiderhosen, Dieter suggested something that made my monocle pop out, “Would you like to go to the most popular Ice Cream Parlor in Erlangen?” Of course I would like to go to an ice cream parlor. Germany is dotted with many little Italian Ice cream places that are either run by Italians or Turks, but either way they are probably going to have some awesome lemon ice cream.

We arrived at Eishaus Erlangen in time to stand in line while Deiter explained that Eishaus is famous for it's constant rotation of interesting flavors. I learned that Eishaus is run by Germans, but they serve Italian-style ice cream. When we got inside I was terrified by but magnetically drawn to one flavor: Spargle. Spargle means asparagus, but it's not the green asparagus that we are familiar with, it's white asparagus. White, anemic, albino asparagus that has been covered in dirt to prevent any exposure to the sun. I shuddered at the thought. Apparently Germany has so many mad scientists that they are going into the ice cream business. I wanted to take refuge in one of the other, more traditional flavors, like Stracciatella or tempting flavors like Chocolate Struessel, but I knew this was my only chance, so I went for the glory.

The asparagus ice cream turned out to be not nearly as bad as I expected. Imagine cream of asparagus soup but sweet, and not quite as vegetab-ly. The flavor was actually very delicate, I even detected some floral notes. I felt a little like a judge on Iron Chef. So the moral of the story is: If you face your fears, you can gain twenty pounds while vacationing in Germany. Next time I'm going to try their Camembert flavor.

Projectile Pie

My fascination with pumpkins extends beyond gastronomy into aerodynamics. Each year, during the Pumpkin Challenge, I also read up on the popular past time punkin chunkin, or its Anglicized name pumpkin launching. The premise of this sport is to construct a device that flings pumpkins the farthest. Many competitions offer separate categories for slingshots, cannons, trebuchets and catapults.

I first heard of the fine sport of pumpkin launching, or punkin’ chunkin’, from my Uncle John, who was lucky enough to attend the 2005 contest in Marion, Illinois. He remarks, "The contraptions designed by engineers, Cub Scout Troops, drunk guys in garages, and serious pumpkin aeronautical professionals inspired the imagination of the crowd. The biggest cannon shot a pumpkin over 4000 feet! And some of the "sling shots" backfired and nearly bombarded their designers."

What is perhaps most exciting is that several physics classes in the country have embraced the sport, participating in competitions and creating their own. Yesterday, I sojourned to the Illinois Institute of Technology, my granddad's alma mater, and stood in the rain with the science geeks (and what I believe was a high school physics field trip) to witness IIT's 5th annual competition. Most of the 8 machines were trebuchets, but there were a few others including The Robotics Team's machine that utilized springs. While the weather did nothing to deter scientists from the noble pursuit of destroying stuff, sadly it did handicap the competition, particularly the loading of the pumpkin launching devices. At first, things were somewhat anticlimactic with several of the machines simply plopping the pumpkin a foot in front of their respective machines. One professor remarked loudly for the crowd to not worry; the very same students that made the failing machines would soon be graduates making our nation's bridges! Thankfully, one trebuchet did fling a pumpkin 185 feet! All in all, it was a fun time capped with free apple cider.

The sport appears to be celebrated all across the United States. Next year, search for the closest competition near you! Or go straight to the top: The World Championships have been held in Delaware since 1986!

The first openly gay...ice cream?

"A wedding-themed Ben & Jerry’s truck will hand out free Hubby Hubby across Vermont today."

The Milk of a Cow, The Grease of a Pig…

Bacon ice cream. Yes, you read that correctly. But for more gut-wrenching horror***, read on.

To most citizens of Planet Earth, this flavor sounds like something of nightmares, something a witch would come up with, terrifying children before throwing them in her boiling cauldron. But there are other members of our species that think this is a great idea. I work with some folks who are of this breed. (This is their Bible, or Necronomicon, or whatever, which hangs on one of the refrigerators at my workplace.)

It seems bacon culture is large enough that David Lebowitx, inventor of candied bacon ice cream, is not the only one experimenting with the sweet possibilities of pork bellies. There is a company, Vosges, who manufacture chocolate with bacon in it. For those gourmets out there, I found a recipe.

Happy Halloween!

***You know what’s even more horrible? Not voting in the upcoming election! Please encourage those around you to vote. Can we do that? Yes, we can!


Note from 2012:This entry is a bit dated. Today, mixing bacon with pretty much anything is being considered haute cuisine. I've eaten and enjoyed Mo's Dark Bacon Bar by Vosges, but, even after trying several varieties, I am yet to actually enjoy bacon in any frozen product.

Korean ice cream parlors are very, very different.

For real.