The Jerusalem Post, January 22, 2010
I first fell in love with ice cream in Barcelona. It was spring and I walked La Rambla—that grand, tree-lined avenue—with many a cone of milky espresso-flavored-dessert in hand. In Venice, I traipsed along turquoise waterways licking creamy almond gelato. And during summer in Alexandria, I cooled down every night with a walk along the Corniche and a smooth scoop of melon.
But it was in Tel Aviv that I ate enough vanilla-ginger to warrant a new pair of jeans.
In the past, Tel Aviv was best known for its sidewalk cafes and hummus joints. But recently, we’ve taken to announcing our place on the Mediterranean: we are here, and we’ve got ice cream.
And what ice cream it is.
The city is dotted with glideriot, ice cream parlors, like so many sprinkles on a sundae. After countless cups, cones, and tiny-sample-spoonfuls—and after sacrificing my waistline—I give you my six favorite spots.
Iceberg
In English, the sign boasts “100% low tech ice cream”; in Hebrew, the statement is simpler, “fine natural ice cream.” No matter what language you’re licking in, though, Iceberg delights.
I’m not a big fan of sorbet—I say if you’re going to get something cold and creamy, go all the way—but Iceberg has some exotic choices that I couldn’t resist. Grapefruit and Campari offers just the right balance of bitter, sour, and sweet. Tangerine and Basil is light, with the garden herb providing a little bit of zip.
Iceberg also offers interesting ice creams like Halvah Pistachio, Banana Honey, and Orange Chocolate alongside some more traditional flavors like Toffee, and Peanut Butter. My companion opted for the Halvah Pistachio, which I found to taste very similar to halvah as you might find it at the shuk—nutty and savory, with sugary notes.
I opted for the Toffee, which was appropriately buttery. My companion remarked that it tasted like a Werthers. I thought it to be even better.
And the Orange Chocolate was perfectly executed—the chocolate wasn’t too rich, so it didn’t overpower the citrus.
I visited the shop at 24 Ibn Gvriol; there are additional locations on Allenby and Ben Yehuda.
Zisale
Tucked on the corner of Frishman and Reines, this small spot has an old-school, neighborhood vibe. Visible from the counter, the tiny kitchen where the ice creams are homemade has a hand in that, as does the name—owner Ra’anan Ben Avraham explains that Zisale means sweetie in Yiddish.
But don’t be deceived by Zisale’s humble appearance. Also known as the Ice Cream Workshop, Zisale boasts serious, artisan desserts, including gourmet krembos.
The selection changes frequently, so I felt lucky to get a scoop of Chinese Pecan. It tasted just like the real thing—roasted and nutty. The Hazelnut flavor, sweet and just a tad earthy, is also true to life.
On the day I was there, Zisale seemed to have quite a few cake-themed-ice-creams like Cheese Cake, Strawberry with Crumbles, and Ricotta Pistachio.
Arlekino
Paper cups boast that Arlekino’s offerings are “For ice cream lovers by ice cream lovers.” This phrase runs below a curious string of numbers that reads: 3:15:65, which the polite young man behind the counter told me, is the average time it takes for someone to polish off a small cup.
While I definitely ate mine slower than the rest, I don’t think I enjoyed it any less.
Arlekino offers hand-crafted “chef gelato” in an array of tempting flavors including Apple Pie, topped with thick apple filling; Peanut Butter with Caramel and Chocolate Ganache; and Birthday Cake, creamy chocolate topped with crunchy sprinkles.
I took the Lemon Meringue and found it to be absolutely extraordinary—there were bits of light, flaky crust and fluffy chunks of powdered sugar folded into the mouth-puckering, tart ice cream. My companion opted for the Drunken Brownie flavor, which was chocolatey but punched up with liquor. The texture was a little off—perhaps the brownie drank a little too much—but the flavor was fantastic.
Arlekino has two locations—one at Dizengoff and Yermiahu; the other at 39 Ben Gurion. The Ben Gurion branch offers a flavor in honor of Israel’s first Prime Minister—vanilla brimming with fresh fruit, as Ben Gurion’s wife supposedly made his yogurt every morning.
Tita
Tita strikes me as a good place to take the kids. Offering “Italian Ice Cream from the Fairytales,” this theme is apparent throughout. The edge of the patio is studded with larger-than-life ceramic mushrooms, ala Alice in Wonderland. At night, a glowing tree with eyes and smiles greets customers as they enter the doorway.
The ice creams have whimsical names like Frog Kiss—mint and chocolate; Hansel and Gretel—caramel and brownies, the perfect pairing for those searching for something sweet; and the wafer flavored Gepetto. The drawing accompanying the latter includes a little boy with a long, cookie nose—which makes me think that maybe this one ought to be named Pinocchio instead.
Although Gepetto’s name misses the mark, the flavor doesn’t—it’s light and delicate. But the plainly-named Date Vanilla offers, in my opinion, the best bites. Rich with the honeyed flavor of the fruit, it’s as close to dates as you can get.
At 33 Bograshov, just a stone’s throw from the beach, Tita also offers some refreshing sorbets when you need a break from sunbathing. Orange Carrot, though frighteningly bright, is delicious. Passion Fruit is excellent—a bit tart, as it ought to be.
Doro
As the address indicates—8 Rothschild—is the place to go for a chic scoop. Doro offers grown-up, well-heeled flavors like Cherries and Vodka, Tiramisu, and Pears and Merlot.
Doro also includes some minimalist options like Cinnamon, Halvah, French Vanilla, and Banana, Apples and Cream.
But minimalist doesn’t mean plain or flavorless—free of dyes and additives, the focus at Doro seems to be on allowing quality ingredients to express themselves. As such, all of the ice creams here are bursting with flavor. Pears and Merlot, my favorite, is crisp and tinged with mellow hints of wine. Cinnamon offers a subtle spicy flavor—warm and full.
Doro’s menu changes on a daily basis. So every once in a while, you’ll catch Sesame—which is savory and reminiscent of tehina.
Vaniglia
Vaniglia is the “end of the road,” as we say in Hebrew, the absolute best, which is why I’ve saved it for last.
Apparently, I’m not alone in this sentiment. Vaniglia, with four branches—the oldest in the Basel area; others on Mazeh, Ibn Gvriol, and Bograshov– is probably Tel Aviv’s most widely known and most beloved ice cream parlor.
The decor at 33 Bograshov is no frills, no fuss– modern minimalist with chandeliers made from tiny, pink ice plastic spoons. Similarly, Vaniglia offers straightforward, plain-named, but exquisitely-crafted, ice cream. There’s a refreshing Green Tea; Vanilla Ginger—which is at once sharp and sweet; a thick, rich Mascarpone; and a strong Espresso. Vaniglia also handles classics like Cookies and Cream—which tastes remarkably similar to an Oreo—and Dark Chocolate.