The Ice Cream Hierarchy

The freezer typically contains both the best and worst of available food choices in any given home. On the one hand, half-eaten bags of prepackaged corn, some chicken with no date written in the white space, a jar of freezer-burnt soup and someone else’s box of chopped spinach haunt its corridors. On the other, a bounty of whichever brand of frozen pizza was on sale, popsicles and Hot Pockets can bring joy to the face of the hungry kitchen scavenger. But the greatest pleasure the freezer produces is the timeless treat, ice cream. While the standard Edy’s, Mayfield’s and, if you’re lucky, Breyers may rule the coop among the everyman’s standard freezer fare, the world at large presents a headache-inducing variety of ice creams. I have taken it upon myself to rank some of the various popular forms of ice cream.

Italian Gelato:

The pinnacle of ice cream. Creamy and delicious, it is made with milk and sugar and is incredibly dense, and available in a staggering variety of flavors. Basically coats your tongue in happiness. There is no excuse for the lack of gelato stands in America. If you’ve never been to Italy, then you just don’t understand and I pity you.

Dippin’ Dots:

The ice cream of the future, as I already discussed. Nostalgia points aside, Dippin’ Dots are still delectable tiny orbs of ice cream goodness. Expensive, but superbly flavorful and it comes in the form of a bunch of tiny orbs. If your heart doesn’t skip a beat when you see that logo on an umbrella at the stadium, you were born before 1982.

Chic-Fil-A Icedream (with chocolate sauce):

This has to be the best soft serve in existence. How and why Truett Cathy created an ice cream product that puts even Dairy Queen’s dessert quality to shame is a testament to Chic-Fil-A’s status as far and away the best fast food chain. Wispy, light and smooth vanilla with thick chocolate sauce and an incredible name. This is God’s soft-serve.

Fried Ice Cream:

A relatively unknown American Mexican restaurant specialty, ice cream is rolled in corn flakes or crumbled cookies then dipped in a deep-fryer, with some combination of cinnamon, sugar, hone, chocolate syrup and/or whipped cream. The audacity of the idea is enough of a selling point as it is, but if done right it can be pretty great. The crunchy shell really works with the still-solidly frozen ice cream.

Flintstones Push-ups:

I don’t want to open a Pandora ’s Box by getting into the grey area between popsicles and ice cream, but push-pops need to be included for their sheer ingenuity. Orange-flavored sherbet in a tube with a handle you use to push it the top. Somehow it worked, and this became the novelty freezer treat of choice for kids who wanted a little bit of a wrist workout while they enjoyed creamy orange goodness.

Sherbet

:

Basically the same as a push pop but served in a bowl and not Flintstones related (little known fact – everything tastes 35 percent better if it is somehow related to the Flintstones).

Mayfield Cartons (with wooden spoon):

The worst the ice cream world has to offer. Worse than the giant 5-gallon party tubs. As far as I know, only available in your elementary school cafeteria. For starters, it’s just vanilla ice cream, and since you are in elementary school there is really no way to add any syrups or toppings or make any kind of float. In addition, it comes with a handy wooden spoon to eat it with. This accessory is a spoon in name alone, as it is terribly un-conducive to serving ice cream. It is too short, so your fingers get sticky, and its flat, so it’s great at pressing ice cream into the cracks between your teeth and making your gums feel like they are being pinched by hypodermic needles. Plus, the wood gives your ice cream a nice tongue depressor aftertaste. And no one ever wanted it to begin with, which means you were only eating one if they were out of sundae cones, ice cream sandwiches and brown cows, making you disappointed and pissed off to begin with. Thanks Mayfield, for ruining the last 10 minutes of lunch period.

Dippin' Dots: The Che Guevara of Ice Cream?

The future has always represented the most accessible outlet for human idealism. Flying cars, rocket packs, world peace, and the collapse of humanity on New Year’s Day have all been pipe dreams in the mind of a wishful public. But, alas, those were all simply theories for which the hopeful imagination has failed to produce the technological blueprint. But what if certain future technology was harnessed and applied, proven effective and mass produced, only to find these forecasts of market domination and whole scale acceptance to be little more than false prophecy? This is the story of Dippin’ Dots, the Ice Cream of the Future.

In his parent’s garage in 1988, forward-thinking microbiologist Curt Jones dished out the first batch of Dippin’ Dots. Using the same cryogenic freezing technology later made famous in the film “Demolition Man,” Jones created a revolutionary take on the massively popular frozen dessert, ice cream. Instead of the traditional block of scoop-served dairy goodness, Dippin’ Dots opted to miniaturize the process. Jones’ brainchild was a bowl of tiny ice cream spheres. The look was bizarre, yet strangely desirable. Riding the uniqueness of the product, Jones marketed Dippin’ Dots as “The Ice Cream of the Future” and launched a campaign to overthrow the “two scoops in a sugar cone” mindset that had so long dominated the ice cream front.

With its eye on the future, the fledgling Dippin’ Dots Corporation knew it had to start with the youth. It also knew that its innovative appearance could lead to its becoming a flash-in-the-pan craze and dying out with a whimper, going the route of L.A. Gear, glam metal and Punky Brewster. Banking on curiosity as its main advertising ploy, the company had a full game plan for surefire success and an increasingly obvious arena for deployment: the amusement parks and sporting grounds of America. If ball fields and Six Flags could turn hotdogs into must-have items and cotton candy into a common luxury, imagine what they could do for the evolution of ice cream. The family atmosphere of these events provided a captive audience of impressionable youth and parents who had already resigned themselves to an open-wallet affair. With a contract to distribute at Opryland U.S.A., Dippin’ Dots fired the first shot of the revolution in Nashville, Tenn.

And so the Dippin’ Dots grassroots campaign churned through the mid-90’s, achieving every result it had anticipated. It became a glimmer in the eye of every roller-coaster bound child, an object of desire that made a great day at the stadium damn near perfect. It became a thing of lore at playgrounds; fraternities of Dot worship formed among those who were privileged enough to have coaxed their parents into a futuristic bowl of their favorite treat. With nationwide recognition and a place in the hearts of America’s youth, the stage was set for changing of the guard in ice cream hierarchy. The “special events” market had reached its carrying capacity and Dots had the support for a move to mainstream and a grip on the future. And then, a funny thing happened. The revolution never came.

It has been 19 years since Dippin’ Dots debuted with a dream and plan. And, despite its successes, time has marched through without bringing the winds of change. Ice cream is still sold by the brick, and Dippin’ Dots is still a novelty. Whatever grandeur the ice cream franchise once sought is now a faded vision in the horizon. The future is here, and it isn’t flash-frozen.

Dippin’ Dots odyssey hasn’t so much ended as reached a point of stasis. Any typical American day-trip is likely to provide the opportunity to engage in this specialty treat. But, for whatever reason, Dippin’ Dots has yet to expand on its vows of upheaval. The rumors and excuses have swirled as the second decade of their existence comes to a close. According to the official website, “Because of the sub-zero storage requirements, Dippin' Dots would begin to stick together in your home freezer.” The inability to infiltrate the homes of the ice-cream consuming public has greatly hindered the spread of the Dots. Vending machines and home delivery are helping the cause, but it appears that the future of ice cream will remain with that which can be served to the kids on a nightly basis from the comfort of ones’ own kitchen.

Moreover, the appeal of Dippin’ Dots may have become almost inexorably linked to the special occasion phenomena surrounding them. Perhaps the whole aura was merely a figment of youthful exuberance, the way every preschooler planned to snack on jars of Flintstones vitamins when he was living on his own. If we could bring home a half a gallon of peanut butter Dippin’ Dots from our local Kroger, would we even want to? Would the luster of the 6^th inning guilty pleasure be lost once when being eaten out of the carton, alone on the couch?

Maybe we are being too hasty. Maybe Dippin’ Dots has had a master plan all along. After all, 20 years is a short time in the two-plus centuried existence of modern ice cream. Dippin’ Dots did promise the future, however, and adoption theory has taught us that technology’s mass availability should precipitate change. The last hurdle may still lie in the home freezer’s capability to store ice cream’s most unique manifestation, but somehow the eradication of the ice cream powers-that-be just doesn’t seem that close. Surely this isn’t all that is preventing Dippin’ Dots from altering the ice cream landscape across America?

After all, was ice cream really in need of a change in the first place? Few complaints have been voiced from non-lactose intolerant consumers regarding the bourgeois ice cream of the present. For a revolution to succeed their must exist a disconnect between the proletariat and the powers that be. It seems the Dippin’ Dots Corporation may have become too wrapped up in its own idealism to see itself for what it truly is - a permanent fixture in America’s cultural landscape as a welcome but limited alternative to Big Brother’s ice cream of today and tomorrow.

The Allan Houston Comeback Watch: Day 34

In mere hours, Allan Houston will officially announce his return to the NBA. Knick fans are united in mild approval as the former two-time All-Star prepares to return to the team he once helped get crushed by the Spurs in the NBA Championship in a strike-shortened season.

Fans around the country are kind of sort of interested in the comeback of one of the 15 greatest Knicks of all time. Thousands glanced at the headline and then vaguely remembered Houston hitting some sort of big a shot against Miami in the '98 Finals. Or maybe it was '99. Whichever season has an asterisk in it because they only played 50 games.

A Houston comeback could also mean something more to the Knicks than just filling what might have been a hole at the backup shooting guard spot. Houston's style of play could encourage more Knicks to shoot almost every time they touch the ball and refuse to pass, rebound or play defense. In addition, Houston's potential success could draw former running mate Latrelle Sprewell back to the franchise which made him famous for something other than choking his own coach. Either way, eyes will be periodically glancing at the 35-year old Houston from the first minute he steps back onto the floor until his knee gives out again.

But, as with any comeback attempt, questions about Houston remain. Is he in shape to hold up to the rigors of shooting a few jumpers for 7-12 minutes a night? Will he tarnish his legacy of being a poor man's Reggie Miller? One bad season could drop Houston below the 40% career three-point field goal percentage mark, something basketball historians would lament as "kind of a bummer."

Whether you agree or disagree with Houston's comeback attempt, you can't completely ignore the barely significant interest his decision has generated. When the NBA season starts, Allan Houston will be walking onto the court in the second quarter of a non-televised game. And thousands of fans will briefly check the box score and remember "hey, Allan Houston's back, that's right." And that is why we watch sports.