Chinatown Ice Cream Factory Makes Me Feel Like an Angry Camel (And a Sad Human)
Has it really been a month since my last post? ....Uuuuggh. I'm sorry. I went on vacation to Norway for a week at the end of August, and not long after I returned my apartment was Internet-less for a week, and blah blah these excuses don't really matter, I'm just slow.
- My reaction to Chinatown Ice Cream Factory's ice cream is a prolonged "nuuuuuUUUHHHHHHGGHHGH"
If you made a list of all the grave acts of negligence in the world, "poorly made ice cream" would be reeeaaally low on that list. Like, not on the list.
And yet more than two months after I ate a cup of taro and black sesame ice cream from Chinatown Ice Cream Factory, my brain is still mildly seething. (My brain has little to seethe about, apparently.) Because ice cream is supposed to fill you with euphoric joy, and yet CICF's ice cream filled me with disappointment accented by a smidge of controlled rage.
This camel's gurgling groan is a pretty good representation of the sound that forms in my head when I think of CICF's ice cream.
First, I was annoyed by myself. I stopped eating CICF's taro and black sesame ice cream two years ago when it gave me sad face; I should've known what was coming to me. But in order to write my recent love letter to taro ice cream on Serious Eats, I felt it was my responsibility to try CICF again to see if it had changed over the last 700+ days or so.
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