PROLOGUE

With the new September, a glorious last gasp of summer, the dawn of the new school year, and the first winds of fall... it’s been quite the month. If you want a preview of what’s already on my mind for next month’s edition, ask me about Ursula K. Le Guin and the casting class I just took! If you want the ravings of a madman, ask me about where I stand on grad school and my seasonal—mmm, fall! pumpkin-flavored!—esteem crisis. It’s always the transitions that are the hardest part.

Summer was low on funds but full of friends—I’m gonna miss it. Getting into the rhythm with my students, though, getting a sense of where the fall may find me… I’m looking forward to the season.

ART

What counts?

I’ve done some writing recently that I’m pretty damn proud of. I think it captured genre convention well, elicited gut reactions from its audience, and delivered a thematically-engaging story.

It had an audience of maybe ten people max, depending on who was tuned in. I have no idea whether it’ll ever see wider audiences than that, because its audience was the players in a small roleplaying-game server I host online.

Some other important prefacing info: the strength of said writing was not the product of my abilities alone. Being a collaborative project, the fictional world this game took—takes—place in is the result of my fellow gamemasters’ machinations as well as our players’ rich interactions with the milieu; being an interactive roleplaying game, I was in the moment simply providing narrative context and supporting characters for a player who is themself a skilled writer and fantastic collaborative storyteller.

Also a friend of the newsletter. Hello, dear reader.

I have, of late, been focusing my self-directed frustrations on the fact that I have yet to produce my own writing in what feels like a… significant? Public? context. I went to school with folks who have now had their writing produced off-Broadway, and plenty more aside with short films produced and submitted to festivals and full-length plays workshopped and revealed to the world at various venues. What have I done?

It wouldn’t be fair to myself to say “nothing.” I have produced my friends’ work independently and for festivals, produced writing recognized in festivals and other such settings, directed a workshop here and a reading there, etc. A very recent draft of this newsletter saw me obsessively listing out everything I have ever produced—more for my own vindication than for the enjoyment of my readers, I suspect. 

I feel, though, as if I’m capable of more, and I feel like I should have more to show for my !! three years !! out of college. Despite this, I have not finished a full-length script of any sort that I’m satisfied with, I haven’t had any play of any length of mine staged in full, I haven’t directed a fully-staged play myself since 2021… I’m not doing enough. My frustration is with my own initiative, rather than the sort of grousing that sees me shaking my fist at the sky. I’m not doing enough.

I think back, though, to this writing I’ve done for the roleplaying game. When I do, I think of the creative energy I have invested in designing compelling characters and circumstances; I think of the in-the-moment responses of players to various twists, turns, and peaks in tension; I think of the incredible art and writing the players have produced, inspired by the events of the tabletop world.

I think of all this and I’m pretty damn proud. I think of the current draft of my full-length stage play that I’m finishing as I write this and I’m pretty damn content, at least, with my discipline. I think. Am I just telling myself this in front of an audience to keep my morale high?

Regardless—writing that is moving to people I feel invested in is my favorite kind of writing. Any creative endeavor is a creative endeavor. I don’t want my pride in this game to serve as an opportunity to rest on my laurels; I think action is frequently born of discomfort. But I think I could stand to remind myself, every once in a while, that I become a better writer whenever I write. I can learn from any work that I undertake. And what better audience to hone my craft on than my friends, as I contribute to something we get to enjoy together?

CRAFT

The craft behind cream: A Frozen Treat Meet ‘n’ Greet Hit the Street retrospective.

Alright, look, I finished a new draft of the aforementioned full-length play recently, but we gotta focus on the important stuff here:

We gotta talk about ice cream.

Craft this month is still diving into “What makes _____ good,” we’re just talking about frozen treats this time.

If you read July’s edition of this newsletter, you’ll know I’ve been organizing a Frozen Treat Meet ‘n’ Greet Hit the Street series of events this summer, the fairweather cousin to my Hot Choc Walk ‘n’ Talk socials. The goal with all of these is to gather a crowd of excellent people, pick up a delightful snack item, and take a scenic walk through New York City as we enjoy simultaneously the good food and good company. One of the impacts of this series of events is that it’s had me thinking in a bit more depth about what makes good ice cream.

I’m a fan of ice cream; I maintain I have a history with the dessert that goes back decades; again, see July’s newsletter. But this is the Craft portion of this newsletter—so let’s focus on craft. What makes a good scoop of the cow’s crowning confection?

I think it comes down to a few things which seem obvious, but may have in themselves a lot of nuance:

First and foremost is texture. Yes, I would say this comes before flavor, barring outliers—the most decadent Sulfur and Vomit ice cream, of course, will not beat out a freezer-burned Vanilla. Texture is the key component. Ice cream is remarkable in its distinction from, say, shaved ice, because of the delicacy of the craft required to create it. To make ice cream, a dairist—this is what they are referred to as—must not only present a cold dish with excellent flavors, they must also do so in a way which synthesizes a native liquid with delectable elements in such a way that there is cold, scrumptious harmony between all the elements. Ice cream is not “frozen water with sugar poured over it,” fond as my memories for watermelon Richie’s at the beach are; ice cream is the coalescence of various elements into one decadent whole.

Flavor is second here. I am prepared to defend this position, even as someone who typically obliterates his textural vessels in his flavorful toppings—I have been known to drown my french fries in ketchup, soak my pancakes in syrup. 

Many establishments, it turns out, are happy to get inventive with their flavors before they have mastered the body of the ice cream itself. They fold in corn and brownie bits and hot peppers—which can all be delicious mix-ins, by the way—before they have created a cream that graces the palette all on its own. This will not do.

The way in which a person actually makes good ice cream is nuanced. I consulted Serious Eats for details. 

As it turns out, one its key components is air—in the mixing process, tiny bubbles of it permeate the base, preventing it from freezing hard and thus, in high quantities, resulting in a smooth and creamy body. The amount of air that finds its way into ice cream is referred to as overrun, so called because it’s measured by identifying how much the volume of a batch has increased after churning.

The temperature at which the churning process takes place is also essential; ice cream base which is not churned at cold enough temperatures will form crystals that will compromise its texture. My favorite scoop shop in, I believe, the world, New City Microcreamery—other Bostonians may say Toscanini’s, and I will warrant it is a contender—goes so far as to incorporate liquid nitrogen in its cooling process.

Apparently, the shape of the churning paddle also makes a significant difference—Serious Eats says asymmetrical paddles better incorporate air and thus lead to a higher overrun.

Also pertinent for this examination is an understanding of the different varieties of ice cream. I’m not talking about the standard ice cream-soft serve-gelato-sorbet categorizations; within the class of Ice Cream itself are a number of permutations.

Hard custard ice cream is what most people in the US will supposedly think of when they are prompted to conjure ice cream to mind. It’s made with egg yolks and butterfat and possesses a balanced profile.

Philly-style ice cream nixes the egg yolks, resulting in a milkier, more aerated body.

New England-style ice cream is known for being dense, almost having a chew to it. It’s a great base for mix ins—this is the style of ice cream that Cold Stone Creamery uses, as well as many New England institutions.

…I wish I had done all this investigation ahead of the Frozen Treat Meet ‘n’ Greet Hit the Street; I would have been able to cultivate my critical eye with much greater precision. I was surprised, for example, that most of my favorite varieties of ice cream appear to be Philly-style, as opposed to the New England style I surely grew up wolfing down by the oversized “small”-cupful.

That said, based on my explorations—enthusiastic, if amateur—here were the hits from the Frozen Treat Meet ‘n’ Greet Hit the Street:

NUMBER THREE

Figo

A venerable gelato mini-chain, Figo proved to be delightful and reliable. The delicious, dense desserts—gelato incorporates less air into the churning process than other varieties of ice cream—had a ton of flavor and good portions for their cost.

NUMBER TWO

Caffè Panna

A pop-hit in the New York ice cream scene, Caffè Panna features ice cream “Inspired by the Italian gelato tradition.” Their website notes that “Most of our ice creams are dairy only”—so perhaps they would be classified as Philly-style with a gelato-esque twist? Its founder is also, supposedly, the daughter of Shake Shack’s founder—so there’s some interesting advantage of resources at play here.

Whatever the distinct techniques and origins, I found their ice cream to be light and beautifully-textured in a manner reminiscent of New City, with great flavors. Caffè Panna also gets points for including their house-made panna—whipped cream—sauce the likes of hot fudge or olive oil, and a crunchy topping as complimentary accompaniments to any standard order.

Caffè Panna was a spot I returned to over and over again this summer, and I anticipate returning many times more. This frequency may have even been a disadvantage to its place in my ranking; I had the opportunity to try batches and flavors I liked more and others I liked less. Regardless, I cannot deny their appeal. There are those who have said the place is mid, overhyped—I have yet to experience anything that justifies such claims.

NUMBER ONE

Morgenstern’s Finest Ice Cream

When I visited Caffè Panna about halfway through the Frozen Treat series, I felt fairly confident it would take the top spot; the place just has great value, quality, and variety. Morgenstern’s had popped up as both a social media recommendation and a personal one, and I figured its boozy milkshakes and its clean, classy ice-cream-parlor-of-yesteryear interior could make for a fun vibe to celebrate the final Treat Trot of the summer.

This place startled me with how good it was.

There’s what could almost present as a bit of snobbery in its promotional materials. The website of Morgenstern’s Finest Ice Cream claims it is “focused on serving texture-driven small-batch ice creams with a renewed attention to flavor and palate,” and that it “looks to change the way people eat and think about this nostalgic treat.” Apparently, Nicholas Morgenstern, the head dairist—premier cremier?—was the pastry chef of the swanky Gramercy Tavern before taking up the ice cream mantle as his primary pursuit. Fancy stuff.

Well, fancy pays off here. Morgenstern’s ice cream is seemingly of the Philly variety, fresh and creamy and with phenomenally rich flavors; I got their Vietnamese Coffee ice cream alongside their Caramel Chocolate KitKat ice cream, and the combination joined sweetness and a complex coffee bitterness in a way that was phenomenal. Each ice cream variety here is listed with its ingredients on the Morgenstern’s website, and each flavor’s recipe is tailored to it individually. For example, the Vietnamese Coffee ice cream is made with condensed milk in addition to its other more standard ice cream ingredients. In addition, each flavor has recommended pairings on the website to indicate which one might sample with which. I will be returning to try many more. Caffè Panna almost won out with its lower prices and included toppings, but Morgenstern’s is just top tier, certainly rivaling similar varieties to be found in New England.

Now all I need is for New City Microcreamery to open up a shop in NYC.

RUNNERS-UP

Van Leeuwen

Custard-style ice cream, the variety with eggs. Rich, great flavors, and great waffle cones and add-ons, in addition to being plentiful around the city. Soon to come to Boston, apparently!

Oddfellows Ice Cream Company

This spot brags about their “fresh milk and cream from farms in eastern Pennsylvania,” and the ingredients certainly seem to pay off in a quirky array of flavors. Plus, their location right beneath the Brooklyn Bridge makes them a great kick-off point for a walk.

—

I went to a few Treat Trot spots solo; none of those made this list, because as delicious as a number of them were, they all lacked the secret ingredient I didn’t mention above: good company (d’awww).

Many more spots I would recommend trying. Unfortunately, if I did, it would sort of negate the point of listing a top three and runners-up in the first place, right? Looking forward to savoring some more ice cream next summer—maybe another round will give me a stronger set of opinions for a full ranking. Hopefully, I’ll see you there, and you can try some of these for yourself.

In the meantime? Happy autumn, everyone.

—

Michael