The Scoop
1002 S. Monroe St.
535-7171
Women shouldn’t need a reason to
eat ice cream. What we really need
is to stop counting calories and start
counting sprinkles. This calculated
theory — women’s liberation meets ice cream
celebration — was formed over
10 flavors and one sunny afternoon.
The Scoop is the South Hill’s perfect
hideaway for great minds and families
alike. The small neighborhood parlor
is lined with Technicolor walls and a
kids’ corner and serves the sinfully
delicious Brain Freeze ice cream.
Feminism has never tasted so good.
(JB)
Root Beer Ice Cream
($1.75, single scoop; $2.70, double)
I have been liberated and it happened
without torching my bra. I was shocked
ice cream could pull this flavor off. Not
only did it surprisingly boast the
strong sassafras taste of true root
beer, it featured the crunchy surprise
of ground-up root beer candies. I can
finally indulge in the frozen side of
my tasty love without settling for the
muted root beer flavor of a float —
sweet deliverance.(TH)
Horchata Ice Cream
($3.35, small milkshake; $5, large)
The elation of discovering a horchata-inspired
ice cream will tide me over
until the next trip home to California,
where my beloved hole-in-the-wall
taquerias keep ice-cold jugs of this
milky-looking rice-based beverage
flowing alongside the Tecate and
Pacifico. Brain Freeze’s product is a
righteous realization of the Mexican
version in frozen form — simple and
sweet, with dominant echoes of
cinnamon, vanilla and sugar. Hell, let’s
make mine a milkshake and I’ll slurp it
down with a chimichanga. For mixed
exoticism, tapping into horchata’s
indigenous roots and adding chufa
(tigernuts, per the Spanish recipe)
would up the stakes.(BT)
Cashew Brittle Ice Cream
($15 per pint)
My mouth feels neglected. The gas
station knockoffs and big-box tubs
of sludge I’ve been passing off as
ice cream aren’t enough anymore.
I’m tired of trashy desserts and
imitation chocolate — and just one
scoop of Cashew Brittle is enough to
reawaken my senses. Thick ribbons
of caramel and buttery toffee chunks
coat my once-forsaken kisser. The
cashew brittle is made locally from
Bruttles and, when combined with
cream, creates the perfect textural
complement. Dry, crunchy toffee,
blended with billows of decadent
cream. I will now do penance to my
mouth for the atrocities it once
slurped on a stick. (JB)
Mary Lou’s Milk Bottle
802 W. Garland Ave.
325-1772
It just feels right . The smell
of hamburgers and the sizzle of
French fries on the burner tingles
your senses. The black-and-white-checkered
floor and booths feel like
they’re straight out of Happy Days,
and if you wait long enough, you’ll
catch a glimpse of Fonzie swaggering
out from behind the diner. Mary
Lou’s Milk Bottle — literally a diner
inside a giant milk bottle — brings
the nostalgia and chrome back to
American ice cream parlors. It’s a
perfect fit for the family-friendly
Garland District. In here, setting
means everything. (JB)
Huckleberry Ice Cream
($2.75, single scoop)
I suppose every city has its own
“foodie thing.” Seattle has salmon,
Tacoma has malt liquor and Spokane
has the huckleberry. Naturally,
huckleberries found their way into
our ice cream at some point. At Mary
Lou’s, the results are delicious and
award-winning. The scoop is a soft
shade of lavender with tiny bits of
huckleberries mixed in, finishing off
with a pleasantly sweet flavor. (TH)
River City Sludge Ice
Cream ($8.75 per pint)
Like the kid who picks out cereal
mostly for the prize that comes
inside, I’m all about the chunks. Hence
my bias for River City Sludge — the
one flavor (of the six we sampled)
with substantial internal texture.
There’s nothing overly complicated
or edgy about Sludge’s wholesome,
G-rated anatomy (gooey ribbons of
chocolate, brownie bites and milk
chocolate ice cream) — unlike Ben &
Jerry’s Phish Food or Chunky Monkey.
Still, every spoonful takes me back to
a simpler time in life, when chocolate
— and obtaining as much of it as I
possibly could — was the only thing
that mattered. (BT)
Maple Nut Ice Cream
($2, small scoop)
I have this crush on Canada. Rugged
terrain, bearded men, maple syrup
… Need I say more? Perhaps this is
what drew me to the Maple Nut ice
cream. At first bite, it tastes like a
mulled combination of maple chew-candy
and milk. A little further into
the scoop, a hint of soggy waffles
and flakes of walnut rise to the
surface. The smooth consistency,
subtle sweetness and overall simple
design make the dish a treat without
being excessive. The taste leaves
me dreaming of the border and ice-creamy,
beardy kisses. (JB)
Dining Out 2010
Get a chef to confide in you*, and one of two things will happen. If that chef is passionate about her work but works for someone else, she will undoubtedly talk about the frustrations and constraints of working around customers’ whims — or, maybe worse, an owner’s perception of a customer’s whims. She’ll talk about wanting to be free to make her art on her own terms — to open a restaurant that is only hers, and to make the food she loves making, regardless of who comes in the door.
Now get a chef who is also a restaurant owner to confide in you. She might complain about many things — payroll, a ruined panna cotta, an inexplicable kale shortage — but she won’t complain about feeling boxed in. At worst, she’ll feel misunderstood. But feeling misunderstood is a trait of all artists, isn’t it?
The chefs in Dining Out 2010 belong to that latter category. They have taken on tremendous personal and professional risk in the hope of reaping the tremendous reward of both freedom and success at the thing they love most. Their food and their stories inspire us. We hope they inspire you, too.
— Luke Baumgarten, Section Editor
* This may take a drink or two, and you may have to do some confiding yourself.
