What's the scoop?

Art Culinaire, Spring, 2005

NEARLY TWENTY-TWO QUARTS PER PERSON: according to the International Ice Cream Association, that's how much of the stuff, on average, each American man, woman and child ate last year. In total, that's 1.4 billion gallons, with vanilla, chocolate, nut, caramel, Neapolitan and strawberry varieties making up 68% of all ice cream consumed. What about the other 32%? Could be citrus or cinnamon, coffee or peppermint--but if what's going on in restaurant kitchens is any indication, it could just as easily be avocado, blue cheese, curry or ox tongue. While Escoffier's Guide Culinaire (1903) features a recipe for asparagus ice cream, the vast majority of the world's frozen confections have been based on sweet components and/or made sweet by any number of agents. In the current restaurant climate, spurred perhaps by the growing popularity of avante-garde cuisine, or perhaps by the dietary vogue of the moment that favors dairy products over breads and grains, frozen confections are crossing the line from sweet to savory in record numbers, becoming nearly as ubiquitous at the beginning of a meal--chicken wing ice cream, anyone?--as at its more traditional end.

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The history of ice cream, explored in detail in Art Culinaire issues 29 and 65, remains a matter of some debate, with many cultures taking credit for its creation. A careful reader might come to the conclusion that, like language, ice cream has evolved more or less simultaneously in many parts of the world, with the current incarnations reflecting the natural resources, cultural beliefs and levels of prosperity of their respective geographic locations.

Art Culinaire asked Stanley Wong and Pichet Ong, both of Spice Market, in New York, to create dishes that incorporate frozen confections. From mango chutney ice cream to a sweetly potent cocktail slush to hot snow, Wong's frozen scoops push any number of buttons. And, from Ong, a pastry chef who is as likely to use wasabi or cilantro as coconut and caramel, we got a whole lot more than vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. Grab a spoon and dig in.

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DAYS OF OVALTINE AND ROSES

IF NOT FOR THE COLD INTR USION OF THE COMPUTER into the world of architecture, we might never have known the cold pleasure of Ovaltine kulfi, as created by pastry chef Pichet Ong. Currently a consulting chef for Jean-Georges Vongerichten and the ranking pastry chef at New York's 66 and Spice Market restaurants, Ong was trained as an architect, but found himself increasingly alienated from his profession, as drafting and modeling programs replaced the real-world techniques of the field.

"I love working with my hands. As a student I did a lot of drawings, built up a lot of models, but when the computer was introduced to architecture, that somehow turned me off, and the process was no longer interesting to me."

Ong has long since abandoned digital blueprints for the likes of tapioca, papaya and lime, but his work still allows him to draw on his aesthetic sense. He's made his mark with whimsical, visually appealing desserts that recall the flavors of a childhood spent in his native Thailand, as well as in Hong Kong and Singapore, which he calls "the ultimate melting pot." Ong and his family moved to New York when he was 12, and he departed for Brandeis University, in Boston, after graduating from high school.

He says, "I grew up with a lot of the flavors I'm using now, like malt, peanut butter, rose and coconut, which I think is really interesting when you combine it with something floral, or with vanilla. To me, vanilla and coconut are the ultimate fusion of Asian and continental flavors."

And let's not forget Ovaltine, which Ong has been spinning into his confections for ten years, and which first made an impression on his palate as a kind of curative elixir, "I was actually lactose intolerant as a kid, and the only way I could consume dairy was if I mixed milk with Ovaltine. I'm a big fan of it now," he adds.

He's also a big fan of what he calls a "west coast" approach to food, which he first discovered as an architecture student at UC Berkeley, moonlighting at Chez Panisse in exchange for an informal kitchen education--and free dessert. A few years later, he returned to Chez Panisse as a full-time employee, and later went on to become the pastry chef at San Francisco's La Folie, under Roland Passot. He elaborates on his perception of the California mentality.

"The wide availability of produce in California, and fresh produce being available more often--good tomatoes, good berries--this causes a lot of chefs to look at food differently. You can have a great bowl of strawberries, so why do anything to it? I really like the kind of dessert that requires the minimum amount of effort to make it tasty."

This preference for simplicity seems directly at odds with Ong's desserts, in which water chestnuts are candied into jewels and coconut is manipulated to resemble flakes of sweet ice and snow. When pressed for further explanation, he defers to the sculptor Constantin Brancusi, saying, "There's quote of his I really relate to--'simplicity is complexity resolved.' I like flavors that are simple and straightforward, where you eat it and you can tell what it is. I'd like to think that the flavors in my desserts are that way, even though, when they come together on the plate, sure, they seem complex. People read what I'm doing as different and complex and original, but to me, these are familiar desserts and flavors that I've been doing for a long time."