Where pistachio dreams come true
a new crawl begins
There is only one thing that Berliners love more than the sun — it’s ice cream. Great when independent, but when combined, a synergy with a superhero-like strength erupts, resulting in a rare phenomenon: a curl of the lips to form on the calloused frowns on the lips on the beloved northern Europeans. At the end of the dark tunnel that is winter in Berlin, lies a row of eis shops — waiting for you to get your kugel.
I had always been a fan of ice cream. Growing up in Japan, I was spoiled with the best of the best matcha, black sesame, and Baskin Robbins’ Popping Shower — but to be honest I never gave ice cream too much thought. My German father, on the other hand, never stopped thinking about it. No one loves ice cream like he does — affogato, soft serve, scoops, ice cream sandwiches, spaghetti eis, in a pint, you name it he loves it. I don’t know anyone else who will go to the lengths that he would to ensure that his evening is capped with a delectable frozen delight. As a little girl, I thought this was just typical dad-behaviour, but as after three years in the land where he grew up, I’ve realised that his love for ice cream isn’t a dad thing, it’s a German thing. Even after leaving his home country as a teenager, he can’t fight the genetic impulse to jump on every opportunity for a soft eis. You can take the German out of Germany, but you can’t take the German out of the German.
After spending the past two years in Berlin, I’ve been bitten by the bug. It’s like when in Rome, but the cultural instinct becomes primal. You see, the winters here are bad, like really bad. So bad that despite my attempts to escape it, I am never away long enough. Winter is the most inclusive thing about Berlin. No matter what your name, where you are from, what your sexual identity is, how you like to spend your weekends, what your pronouns — winter will wrap you in it’s cold, damp, grey, blanket, taking control over your senses and sucking away at your dopamine levels.
Sitting in the sun with an ice cream in hand, is about as close as I’ll get to feeling like I’m standing on top of an Olympic podium — and it’s not just me winning, it’s the whole damn country.
Hence, why I’ve decided to embark on a new crawl: finding the best ice cream in the city. Upon completing my croissant crawl, I have to say that my quality of life has improved significantly — because now, no matter where I am in the city, I always know where I can find the nearest nibble. It’s like knowing where the emergency exits are on a flight — but a bit more fun.
To kick things off, let’s set the stage for a moment shall we?
It’s 3pm on a Sunday, the rain has been battling the sun all day, and it’s looking like the sun will come out with the gold. Spirits are a bit groggy after a late night of swimming in the lake and waiting for delayed trains (another classic Berlin combo), nonetheless we are feeling good — but could be better. Echos of a savoury breakfast ring in your palette, and you start to feel the beginnings of a new craving — something sweet… a little bit nutty… perhaps even crunchy… it can only be one thing: pistachio ice cream.
Now here’s something to know about Berlin. When you say the words: “Pistachio Ice cream”, something happens to your body, and your legs start moving almost robot-like in the direction of the nearest Duo Sicilian Ice Cream shop. Control of your legs doesn’t come back until you’ve taken your first lick. Don’t ask me why, just accept it. There are way worse places your legs could take you.
This phenomenon is exactly what happened to me and my boyfriend this past Sunday. One moment we were laying on the couch watching the fastest men on earth compete in the 100m semi finals, next thing you know this happened:
And yes, that is a white chocolate pistachio shell covering my pistachio gelato.
Now I love pistachio ice cream, but I haven’t been eating so much of it because I’ve been in a pretty serious thing with carrot cake ice cream (more on that later) the past year or so. As fun as it’s been, pistachio, arguably one of my first loves, has been kicked to the sidelines.
Let me tell you, if you are in dire need of a pistachio top up, Duo is the place to do it. Follow in suit and get one scoop of pistachio and top it with the glaze. Trust me, you’re going to want to resist the urge to get multiple flavours (you can try, but not buy). A’s decision to get pistachio AND bitter chocolate was fun, but not as practical in practice.
I should also warn you to say that eating this ice cream is a full contact sport: you see, the pistachio shell hardens over the ice cream, housing any drip-age coming from the top, BUT the shell doesn’t cover the entire structure, meaning that while enjoying your cone, you have to intermittently damage control the dripping bits from the bottom. Conversations while enjoying are not possible, and walking is not advisable. This ice cream requires both offence and defense — but trust me, you’ll always come out the winner.
A rated his a 6.5 (I told you, stick to one scoop) and I rated mine an 7.8.
We lost points for two reasons. 1. The quality of the cone and 2. the lack of chunks. When it comes to ice cream, I’m a chunks girl, so I was hoping for a couple pistachio bits in the mix, but hey — no harm no foul. As for the cone, it was just a bit generic — cost effective I’m sure, but a homemade waffle cone is definitely a potential point for improvement. I would also even go as far to suggest taking a page out of Cornetto’s book and draping the liquid gold that is the pistachio white chocolate inside the cone to ensure the fun doesn’t end — they could even make it a secret menu item that’s only available when patrons ask for their ice cream ripieno (Italian for “stuffed” in a culinary context).
Is it the best ice cream I’ve ever eaten? No.
But, I will say that nothing has ever satisfied my craving for pistachio better than this.
Duo, grazie.I’ll be back when I can order my cone ripieno.
Need to try that one!
I finally tried jones, the carrot cake and cookie dough. Ughhhhhhhhhhh so good. Help xo