Ice Cream by Van Leeuwen: Vive la pretense!

I have, for quite some time now, seen these nifty little ice cream vans toodling around Brooklyn and Manhattan. Looking like what might happen if Martha Stewart got her hands on a Mr. Softee, they smack of farmhouse/organic/free-trade/small-batch pretense, in all its glory.

Bad Mr. Softee... bad!

Perusing the menu on the side of the truck, I was impressed by how "artisanal" the ice cream must be; not only was it grandiosely titled artisan ice cream, but the menu on the truck has these really nice, Pierre-Joseph Redouté style illustrations of the ingredients.


Now being "somewhat familiar" with communication specialists, designers, marketing and brand consultants, I know when I'm having sunshine pumped up my you know what by someone trying to get me to part with my hard earned dough. I do agree somewhat with the Arts & Craft movement, in that some hand made stuff can be much better than a mass produced counterpart. I do have a fine appreciation for things like Stickley Furniture, IWC watches and Aston Martins, but this is ice cream people. Oh wait, ice cream? Gotta try some.

So I grabbed a paper menu and looked for one of my favorite flavors, mint chocolate chip, but I couldn't find it anywhere; I could've sworn I saw it on the truck itself. Luckily, my super smart brother is fluent in ostentatious, so he pointed me in the direction of "Peppermint and Chip."

The description of this frozen delight waxes poetic about "Pure organic peppermint from the rich volcanic soils of Oregon" and "Ultra thin Michel Cluizel 72% chocolate chips." The chips are ultra thin, as was pontifically explained, so as to reach the right temp in your mouth to allow you to taste them before you swallow them.

wait... here comes... the taste!

At this point I was expecting a truly transcendental experience. Seriously, its gonna be so good they are worried I will swallow it before my brain can fully process the signals from my taste buds? That a Pavlovian response will somehow trigger a swallow so fast that the 50,000 or so taste cells on my tongue won't grasp a single molecule of theobromine before the icy bomb of goodness is lost forever to my stomach?

I raised the spoon to my trembling with anticipation lips, and was overcome by the outstanding mediocrity of the ice cream. Wait, I want my $3.95 back mother#@%&$*!


Really, it just left me flat. The mint was very nice, bright, upfront and fresh, so I was hopeful. The chips (yes I could taste them) were just what they should be, good, but I've had a lot of good chocolate, I wouldn't call them outstanding. The problem was the ice cream. It was thin and watery tasting. Seemed like the milk made the obligatory polite rounds at the party and discreetly snuck out the back. A far cry from ice cream, I'd call it milk sorbet.

In desperation I tried the Currant & Cream, same deal. Great currants, but I shrugged my shoulders at the "cream." Ginger? Lovely spicy candied niblets, interspersed in a sea of take-it-or-leave-it. Where was the "dense, creamy and rich" their propaganda promised?

At this point I realized that "Artisan" is ostentatious for "we're figuring this out as we go," and "small batch" means "we only have two employees." Once again, I'd been suckered by some great food marketing. I wondered if other reviewers of this ice cream had perhaps eaten it on a 90 degree night after skipping dinner.

Van Leeuwen's secret chocolate ingredient (don't worry, it's organic)

Later, I cyber moseyed over to their website where I learned that "Stockists" is ostentatious for "Whole Foods Supermarket." I also noted the fact that they tout their wonderchips as 72% chocolate. What? Now I'm really confused. Whats the other 28%? Filler?

All chocolate is made of three basic ingredients: cocoa butter, cocoa solids, and sugar. That's it. The USFDA states that in order to be called dark, chocolate must be at least 35 percent cocoa. As a general rule, the higher the cocoa percentage, the darker and more intense the chocolate. Obviously 72% chocolate was a typo on the website (see Artisan, above).

But I do know the quality of the cocoa makes a huuuuuuuge difference in the way that stuff tastes, think Hersey's vs MarieBelle. Nothing wrong with Hershey's, but its underwhelming chocolate flavor is borne out of its rather pedestrian cocoa. So my ears pricked up a little upon reading about the highly selective, innovative, French, family run source of the chocolate for the chips, and the chocolate ice cream. How did I miss that little gem?

Awesome "reverse depth of field" (ostentatious for out of focus) iphone photo

A fortnight later, I happened upon a fine fellow, my local stockist; being a true connoisseur and purveyor of wholesome and pleasurable victuals, he was well appointed with charming vessels of rimy milk, sourced from bovines browsing pasture from the foot hills of the Adirondacks (that's ostentatious for I went to whole foods and bought some ice cream). When I got it home, I nonchalantly tried a bite.



"Bite" must be ostentatious for "1/4 of the container" because that's what disappeared down my throat before the chocolate fog of deliciousness unleashed me from its sweet, sweet, death-grip. This stuff is good, you need to eat some.

The ice cream itself is just not that good without this chocolate, I'm sorry, gotta call it like I see, um, taste it. The chocolate they are using is amazing, and it makes the ice cream. It's not as appreciable in the chip, but when you get the full bore blast of its flavor standing center stage, with no distractions, its marvelous.

Ever had a really good chocolate brownie, so good the chocolate seems more like a stick of fresh butter and a cocoa bean hooked up and had some delicious bi-foodal kids? That's what this tastes like. That rich buttery chocolate gives the thin ice cream that hint of the amazing 5th taste, umami, (that's japanese for yummy) which there is NO excuse for a fat/protein bomb like ice cream not to have. If you make me ice cream and it doesn't have that elusive hint of mm-m-mmm that envelopes your tongue like a glove of satiation, you can talk to Johnny Cash.

Censored for your protection

Ok, ok. I'm not gonna fault the ice cream for being a vehicle for something far better than it. I love shrimp cocktail, same thing. Totally bland shrimp as a rickshaw of repast? Carting that delicious zestfulness of sweet tomato and horseradish to my mouth. Love it. So do you.

Benjamin Van Leeuwen cares about ingredients, cares about his ice cream, but still has some learning to do about making it. I look forward to monitoring his progress.

Verdict: Get the chocolate or the Giandujia (ANNOYINGLY ostentatious for chocolate-hazelnut). Don't bother with the rest. They get a half Strip for having 2 good pints (I'm feeling generous today).

Van Leeuwn Ice Cream
1/2 Gastroliaison Bacon Strip

This concludes Gastroliaison's review of Van Leeuwen Ice Cream.