Kyle Nabilcy
The server (gelatist?) crammed three disparate yet strangely fraternal flavors into my little bowl.
By now, we've gotten the full spectrum of Wisconsin spring: hot and cool, muggy and persistently flood-y. But in a broader view, it's already summer. The MLB All-Star game is only a month away. The summer movie season has officially begun -- who's psyched for the new X-Files?. My doggie play group has started meeting outdoors again. What better time, then, to enjoy a nice dish of ice cream?
Well, it'd have to be some ice cream if it made its way to this corner of the Internet. No, my creamy, tasty frozen treat is gelato this time around. The problem is that any self-respecting Mario Batali viewer knows it by now, so I've got to stretch a bit. Thus, the "botanical" part of the title.
It's a mouthful of a phrase, "botanical gelati." (What is it, like, a squid or something?) I'd be remiss if I didn't teach you the proper plural, though. Gelato, for those not in the know, is the Italian take on ice cream. It's not quite frozen custard; there's no egg. It's not frozen yogurt, because it's made (normally) with full-fat milk. But it's not exactly ice cream, either. It's got a lower fat content, less air and a lower melting/serving temperature. This means your tongue can taste more of the flavor, sooner. It's really quite good, and it doesn't even have to be fringe.
Gelato comes in all the flavors you'd expect it to -- chocolate, strawberry, vanilla -- and some flavors that only Ben and Jerry might whip up, like English trifle, spumoni, or banana crème pie. But we all know where this is going, and it's not banana crème pie or cookie dough./p>When I use the word "botanical," I don't just mean "something that grew." I mean "something that you might have bought seeds for at Johannsen's." To find good gelato in Madison, one needn't search for too long; Java Cat and the Blue Spoon in Middleton serve it regularly, and high-end places like Lombardino's offer it occasionally. Only one joint makes gelato its sole provision, though, and that joint is The server (gelatist?) crammed three disparate yet strangely fraternal flavors into my little bowl. To ease myself into character, I started with a culinarily ambitious, if not totally fringey, concoction of chocolate, orange, and saffron. Chocolate and citrus combos are not high up on my list, and indeed, there were substantial chunks of bright and bitter orange peel mixed in with the smooth base. Great if you like that sort of thing, but it just ain't for me. Saffron is the botanical star of this production, but doesn't have the flavor to really impose itself. There was a definite plant taste, which fought through even the bitterness of the orange rind, but that was about it from the delicate stigmas of Crocus sativus. Some of you readers might be wondering, is that "sativus" related to that...? Ah, no. C. sativa is an entirely different plant. The next flavor was viola, which is actually the proper name for the flower we know as the violet. Viola share their color with another edible flower -- lavender -- and the gelato has the same light purple hue. Wood violet (V. papilionacea) is the state flower of Wisconsin, so what better flavor to sample on such a beautiful spring day in the shadow of the Capitol? In addition to being an edible flower, viola is a common perfuming agent. That use was very evident during the consumption of viola gelato. It was a little bit soapy, a little bit perfumey, and a little bit reminiscent of that waxy taste and texture of Jelly Belly jellybeans. The color similarity to the Island Punch flavor might have tainted my perception on that last part, though. Regardless, I'll stick to Soap Opera (or heck, the actual opera...BA-dum-TSSHH) when I have my next viola hankering. Hands down, the best variety for both flavor and fringe was the third. Most gelati are of the dairy persuasion. Some, however, are water-based. Paciugo stocks a few of these at a time (for those watching their fat intake, or the lactose-intolerant), and it was from this section that I selected lime chia. Yes, Salvia hispanica) is a great source of antioxidants, fiber, and the aforementioned omega-3 fatty acids. Eyeball mowing not required. First of all, the lime gelato was really good on its own. With just the right blend of icy cool and puckering tart, it was the perfect antidote to the day's early spring heat. The presence of the chia seeds added a grassy flavor component and crunchy texture that allowed the gelato to play well on a greater number of senses. And this time, you recreationalists can feel justified in pricking up your ears; S. hispanica is indeed a close relative of Salvia divinorum, or Diviner's Sage. No psychoactive responses were noted during the consumption of lime chia gelato, however. I've had gelato at a small handful of establishments in Madison and beyond, and I can't say that Paciugo's is the best. In particular, if you get the chance to take a trip to Door County, stop at
