Cold, sweet, creamy

I think I’ve already mentioned Berthillon ice cream a couple of times. That’s because it’s the best ice cream in the world and its home is on the Ile St Louis. Uninitiated Sydneysiders, forget the showdowns between Pompeii and DeLuca and Messina and whatever Melburnian blow-ins are the saveur d’hiver. My experience of Italian frozen delights is admittedly limited, but Berthillon is far superior to any gelato I’ve eaten in Italy, or elsewhere for that matter. The flavours are intense but not overwhelmingly sweet; the ice cream is smooth without being watery or milky or drippy.

This is me looking uncharacteristically aloof when faced with raspberry and passionfruit ice cream in the one bowl. If your gestural lexicon provides no expression suitable to the pleasures before you, look blank.

And here is a cornette with one scoop of caramèle au gingèmbre and one of rhubarbe et fraise. Unfortunately, the rhubarb-strawberry is hidden underneath the ginger caramel. You do see, however, unadulterated Left Bank in the background.

I’m smiling here because I’m about to eat a coneful of butterscotch and cherry. The gentilhomme who took this photo will soon have his own blog through which to rhapsodise his pain aux épices and cassis.

The best flavour of this summer? Definitely the butterscotch. The French name for this, caramèle beurre sâlé, hints at the snappy salty aftermath to the caramel. So good. My passionfruit and John’s blackcurrant tie for second place. Actually, I think I could find a reason to nominate any one of the flavours above for first, second, and third place all at once. If this was a horse race, I’d put a bet each way on all of them and hope that the odds were, for once, in my favour.