Ben & Jerry's New York Super Fudge Chunk Ice Cream

Ice cream is concentrated satisfaction. It is the twin elements of childish culinary delight - sugar and fat - put through an icy crucible of alchemical condensation. As such, it is also the subject of endless fantasy and lust. And any object of lust has one sole responsibility: to deliver the goods, in as goodly a fashion as possible.

As I see it, ice cream can take one of two approaches in delivering the goods. The first is the road of simplicity: taking the finest (and smallest list of) ingredients, then assembling them in the finest way possible. In the modern world, this seems to be an inconceivably daunting task, at least in the U.S.A. (and let's not even talk about English ice cream, the only other nationality I have with which to compare). Your best bet is to know a local artisan who takes earnest pride in producing a quality product. Which I'm sure you all do, right?

I want my ice cream to be made by this guy.

The problem with the first approach is that it often leads to a phenomenon I refer to as "ice cream disappointment". Let's paint a scene: it's Sunday afternoon in the Universe, and you've spent the day so far lounging or adventuring with your sweetie or accomplice, and the specific brand of bodily need for ice cream arises. Or, for the more sophisticated among us, let us imagine that you have gone out to dinner with a special someone and have ingested and imbibed some very heartwarming comestibles and are ready for a toothsome epilogue. In either case, you have been doing some good living and are in need of an affirmative reward. So you go to order dessert, or in our first example you stroll down to your local creamery, and you decide that of all the offerings on the menu, the one that really calls to you is a plain old chocolate ice cream. Simple, classic and richly pleasing in every capacity. Before you know it, the sweating, mucilaginous treat is before you, and you go in for your first bite. It is in precisely this moment that one can so often experience ice cream disappointment. As the heavy chill transforms to fluid experience, as the familiar sensation of salty, chocolatey earthiness suffuses your consciousness, you can't help but hear the faint suggestion in the back of your head that this ice cream isn't good enough! My entire life has been leading up to this moment of indulgence, or perhaps I have allowed myself this one treat in the face of dietary stricture, and this ice cream isn't it, damnit! I have eaten a product whose sole existence in this reality is to provide me pleasure, and it has failed. You may choose to continue, but even as you do, you are keenly aware that you are now dealing with a system of diminishing returns. Now, I know that this brand of disappointment is not localized to ice cream. However, of all the food items that I eat with any regularity, ice cream is the one that makes me feel this the most acutely.

The second approach is the one Ben & Jerry's takes, and is a good choice for them, considering their acquisition by Unilever Corp. in 2000 all but dashed any possibility of employing the first approach. (For those of you indignant about the suggestion that Ben & Jerry's products have deteriorated since then, save it for someone who doesn't care). Their philosophy is what I call the "treasure chest" philosophy, and it's a very successful workaround. They have decided not to try for purity, instead infusing their ice cream with the promise of constant discovery. Often, when reading a Ben & Jerry's flavor description, you think to yourself, "All that in one little pint of ice cream?" I guarantee, though, that your next few minutes will be rife with adventure, no matter which you choose.

Furthermore, I'm coming to believe that New York Super Fudge Chunk is their best flavor. The description: "Chocolate ice cream with white and dark fudge chunks, pecans, walnuts and fudge-covered almonds." Bam! Chocolate upon chocolate upon chocolate. My favorite three nuts. This ice cream feels like a candy bar exploded into it, and the result is most junkily satisfying. I struggle to stop eating it, for each bite uncovers some new tasty morsel - just as you've forgotten about the stealth white chocolate chunks (which I otherwise don't like), another pops up, and you smile to yourself again. The combination of nuts and chocolate chunks ensures that you don't succumb to textural monotony. I am normally a conservative consumer of ice cream, content to eat only what I need to satisfy my craving in the moment. Ben, Jerry and the folks at Unilever may end up making a glutton of me.

If your tastes seek something a little more refined (but equally difficult to put down), I suggest you seek out Ciao Bella's Pistachio Gelato, or really anything made by that illustrious company. And while that may be another review begging to be written, I'll leave the hard work to you on that one ;).

Need I twist your arm?