NEAPOLITAN ICE CREAM
Neapolitan ice cream is misunderstood, in my opinion. When I was a kid, Neapolitan was treated like the United Nations of Desserts, a democratic division of flavours to suit all palates, resolving conflicts at the dinner table, and uniting warring siblings in front of the fridge door, umming and urring about who-gets-what for dessert.
My father tried, once, to test the maturity of my sisters and me, by buying a large tub of Neapolitan ice cream and placing it in the freezer, and inviting us to have some. Given no instructions or parameters for this dessert, my sisters and I did what any normal, sensible, California kid of our generation would do: we dug out all of the chocolate layer, about half of the vanilla, and none of the strawberry. I do suspect we were being set up to fail.
My father then imposed sanctions on the freezer compartment. No one was allowed to have any Neapolitan ice cream unless they cut an even swathe across all three flavours with the ice cream scoop. Any uneven distribution of the chocolate end of things would result in immediate banishment from the ice cream department.
I'm not sure that we ever bought another tub of Neapolitan after that incident; we couldn't see the point. In fact, up until about a month ago I don't think I have ever purchased Neapolitan in a shop ever, or even ordered it in a restaurant. That was a pretty powerful experiment my father did, way back then.
But as you can see from the above picture, I did purchase some Neapolitan ice cream, as an adult, of my own free will, in a Co-op in Wiltshire. I think the sheer excitement of the pending move to Italy just got into my bones and made me a little bit crazy, and I suddenly started branching out and doing unusual things. It tasted pretty much as I remembered it from my childhood, but I was somewhat bolstered by the knowledge that my youngest son actually likes strawberry ice cream, and my husband is a vanilla kind of guy, and between my eldest son and myself we can battle over the chocolate together.
But what I really must tell you about Neapolitan is that it used to be a high-status dessert in America, and it was brought across from Italy by immigrant Italian chefs who were highly respected, and because so many of them came from Naples and the south of the country, the ice cream was dubbed Neapolitan. These skilled chefs were expert at creating lovely desserts, specifically ice cream desserts, and the three colour look of Neapolitan was supposed to emulate the Italian flag.
"Wait a minute!" I hear you exclaim, "the Italian flag is not brown white and pink", and of course you'd be right. But the Italian flag is red, white and green, and the original Neapolitan ice cream was made with strawberry, vanilla, and pistachio. This would be reminiscent of Italian spumoni, with candied fruit and nuts in it. Apparently, the pistachio element wasn't as popular in the U.S., so chocolate was substituted, resulting in the culinary battle hosted in my childhood home, as recounted above.
Now I'll be honest and tell you that I began this blog post in England, before we moved house, but I am finishing it here, in Italy, with new, updated information. I have just recently had a four-flavour ice cream tub. Unbelievably cool. It consisted of vanilla, chocolate, chocolate chip, and walnut. The chocolate was a dark rich colour, the vanilla was surprisingly white, not creamy, the chocolate chip was chippy, and the walnut had a golden, caramel-sort of hue, quite complementary to the other flavours.
But what I think is the most important piece of information I have to impart to you, is that I, at the ripe old age of 58, scooped my ice cream democratically, and maturely, across all four flavours, just as my father would have wished. I like to feel that he looked down at me, smiling approvingly, as I made such a grown-up display of restraint, made even more difficult by the fact that the walnut flavour wasn't, well, really as delicious as it's amber colour led us to believe.
So, the next time you see Neapolitan ice cream in a shop, or on a menu, show some respect. Think of the allusion to the flag, and the bravely skilled Neapolitan chefs who embarked on a journey to a brave new world, bringing their ice cream and dessert skills with them. Dare yourself to take a spoonful of all three at the same time, and let the flavours roll around and mingle on your tongue, as they were designed to do.
History makes food taste better. Dive in, and enjoy.
My father then imposed sanctions on the freezer compartment. No one was allowed to have any Neapolitan ice cream unless they cut an even swathe across all three flavours with the ice cream scoop. Any uneven distribution of the chocolate end of things would result in immediate banishment from the ice cream department.
I'm not sure that we ever bought another tub of Neapolitan after that incident; we couldn't see the point. In fact, up until about a month ago I don't think I have ever purchased Neapolitan in a shop ever, or even ordered it in a restaurant. That was a pretty powerful experiment my father did, way back then.
But as you can see from the above picture, I did purchase some Neapolitan ice cream, as an adult, of my own free will, in a Co-op in Wiltshire. I think the sheer excitement of the pending move to Italy just got into my bones and made me a little bit crazy, and I suddenly started branching out and doing unusual things. It tasted pretty much as I remembered it from my childhood, but I was somewhat bolstered by the knowledge that my youngest son actually likes strawberry ice cream, and my husband is a vanilla kind of guy, and between my eldest son and myself we can battle over the chocolate together.
But what I really must tell you about Neapolitan is that it used to be a high-status dessert in America, and it was brought across from Italy by immigrant Italian chefs who were highly respected, and because so many of them came from Naples and the south of the country, the ice cream was dubbed Neapolitan. These skilled chefs were expert at creating lovely desserts, specifically ice cream desserts, and the three colour look of Neapolitan was supposed to emulate the Italian flag.
"Wait a minute!" I hear you exclaim, "the Italian flag is not brown white and pink", and of course you'd be right. But the Italian flag is red, white and green, and the original Neapolitan ice cream was made with strawberry, vanilla, and pistachio. This would be reminiscent of Italian spumoni, with candied fruit and nuts in it. Apparently, the pistachio element wasn't as popular in the U.S., so chocolate was substituted, resulting in the culinary battle hosted in my childhood home, as recounted above.
Now I'll be honest and tell you that I began this blog post in England, before we moved house, but I am finishing it here, in Italy, with new, updated information. I have just recently had a four-flavour ice cream tub. Unbelievably cool. It consisted of vanilla, chocolate, chocolate chip, and walnut. The chocolate was a dark rich colour, the vanilla was surprisingly white, not creamy, the chocolate chip was chippy, and the walnut had a golden, caramel-sort of hue, quite complementary to the other flavours.
But what I think is the most important piece of information I have to impart to you, is that I, at the ripe old age of 58, scooped my ice cream democratically, and maturely, across all four flavours, just as my father would have wished. I like to feel that he looked down at me, smiling approvingly, as I made such a grown-up display of restraint, made even more difficult by the fact that the walnut flavour wasn't, well, really as delicious as it's amber colour led us to believe.
So, the next time you see Neapolitan ice cream in a shop, or on a menu, show some respect. Think of the allusion to the flag, and the bravely skilled Neapolitan chefs who embarked on a journey to a brave new world, bringing their ice cream and dessert skills with them. Dare yourself to take a spoonful of all three at the same time, and let the flavours roll around and mingle on your tongue, as they were designed to do.
History makes food taste better. Dive in, and enjoy.
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