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.