
So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish
Just another perfect day
By JONATHAN GOLD
Wednesday, October 3, 2007 - 12:00 pm
It is still dark when I wake up, and I pad down the stairs to put together one last breakfast of biscuits, eggs and juice before the rest of the family gets out of bed. The biscuits are made with cultured Vermont butter and the soft, fine flour I mail-order from the Weisenberger Mill in Kentucky. I will serve them with the plum jam that my neighbor Kazi sometimes makes when she is not otherwise engaged as the principal violist of the L.A. Opera. The eggs are from the Kendor Farms stand at the Hollywood Farmers’ Market. The juice is from my own grapefruit tree. The music on the radio is the Emerson Quartet playing Haydn. If it were a weekend, I might also throw a center-loin Schreiner’s smoked pork chop or a hot Italian sausage from Alexander’s Prime Meats into a skillet, and maybe brew a plunger-potful of Krakatoa-blend coffee from Monkey and Son, but I’m not eating until later.
The oven beeps. The biscuits are golden and flaky. My wife and daughter slide into their chairs at the dining room table, and my 4-year-old son fetches today’s copy of the L.A. Times from the lawn, where it has miraculously not been soaked with sprinkler runoff. (Are the headlines true? Are the troops really on their way home? Did the Celtics really agree to trade Kevin Garnett straight up for Kwame Brown?) When I walk Leon to his pre-K class a little later, he remembers to hug me goodbye.
From the school, I drive to the gym, where I meet Melody Schoenfeld from Flawless Fitness, who has the unenviable task of directing me through the workout. (Why would I go to the gym on my last day on Earth? You never know when core fitness is going to come in handy on the other side.) I am in luck — it’s arms-and-shoulders day, no squats or lunges, and the mook who likes to work out to the Rocky soundtrack is nowhere to be seen. Even better, JACK-FM seems to have been struck by lightning during the night: Everybody’s reps are powered by a podcast of last week’s Chocolate City on KCRW, and the host, Garth Trinidad, has found some late-’70s Meters sides I have never heard before. The iron practically lifts itself.
As quickly as Melody strips calories off, Sumi Chang at nearby Europane puts them back on. I would ordinarily have a chocolate croissant but it is nearing the end of stone-fruit season, and I have a frangipane-smeared peach tart with one of Sumi’s perfect cappuccinos, layered with foam dense enough to support a spoon upright. It is a rather dry day — low humidity is bad for the skin but great for baked goods — and the puff pastry explodes into a million buttery flakes. I glance at the sports section. Garnett really does seem to be coming to the Lakers. It is a good day, considering.
I have a few minutes to kill, so I drive over to the Norton Simon Museum, where I spend a while looking at my favorite painting by Francisco de Zurbarán, a still life of lemons that almost tumble out of the frame, nipply, glowing fruit whose lusciousness affirms the existence of God more persuasively than a dozen stiffly pious Zurbarán saints. The beauty is almost enough to make me forgive Simon for dismantling and burying the irreplaceable contemporary collection of the Pasadena Art Museum when he took over the institution three decades ago, but even today I have only so much forgiveness in my heart. I take a short walk through the building to look at the big Sam Francis splashed against the wall, and I shake my head at what might have been. I decide to take the Pasadena Freeway, the most beautiful of all American freeways, into Los Angeles. I make a quick detour halfway into town for a deep-fried potato taco with guacamole at El Atacor #11. Five minutes later, I am back on the freeway, heading toward downtown.
It is a lightish day at the Weekly, and my wife agrees to have lunch, although she tends to roll her eyes at any intimations of end times. Laurie works hard; even today she brushes off any ideas of a long, winey lunch at Spago or on the sunny, art-strewn patio at Michael’s. We end up at Sapp Coffee Shop, a legendary Thai Town noodle joint, where I get the duck noodles and she gets the boat noodle soup — a dark, murky broth of beef innards lit up like a pinball machine with ground Thai chiles. For the first time in months we manage to get there before the fried Thai sausage with peanuts is sold out. Laurie blushes when my foot meets hers under the table, but then she says she needs to get back to the office. I tell her I’m thinking of going to the zoo, and she decides to come along instead of going back to work — it must be end times. We cruise through Griffith Park to hang out for a few minutes with the meerkats at the Los Angeles Zoo, and pick up our son at Travel Town, where a friend has taken him to play on the trains.
We pick up Leon’s sister Isabel at school, and we all go up to Bulgarini in Altadena for gelato. I get the gloriously bitter granita de caffé. Leon seems extra-excited about his scoop of banana. The four of us drive up to the end of Cheney Trail and scramble over the rocks to Millard Falls, where Isabel skips rocks and Leon pokes at centipedes as evening falls over the canyon.
Later, we all go out with friends for Sichuan fried chicken, water-boiled fish and stir-fried bacon with leeks at Chung King, followed by a quick nightcap of Lagrein at Louon Vine. Back at home, Laurie and I hold hands and wait for the dawn.
WEISENBERGER MILL: www.weisenberger.com.
L.A. OPERA: www.laopera.com.
KENDOR FARMS: www.kendorfarms.com.
HOLLYWOOD FARMERS’ MARKET: Ivar Ave. between Hollywood and Sunset blvds., Hlywd., Sundays 8 a.m.-1 p.m.
EMERSON STRING QUARTET: www.emersonquartet.com.
SCHREINER’S FINE SAUSAGES: 3417 Ocean View Blvd., Glendale, (818) 244-4735.
ALEXANDER’S PRIME MEATS: in Howie’s Ranch Market, 6580 N. San Gabriel Blvd., San Gabriel, (626) 286-8871.
MONKEY AND SON COFFEE: www.monkeyandson.com.
LOS ANGELES TIMES: www.latimes.com.
FLAWLESS FITNESS: www.flawlessfitness.com.
EUROPANE: 950 E. Colorado Blvd., No. 107, Pasadena, (626) 577-1828.
CHOCOLATE CITY: KCRW 89.9 FM, Saturdays 6-9 p.m. www.kcrw.com/music/programs/cc.
NORTON SIMON MUSEUM: 411 W. Colorado Blvd., Pasadena, (626) 449-6840 or www.nortonsimon.org.
EL ATACOR #11: 2622 N. Figueroa Ave., L.A., (323) 441-8477.
SPAGO: 176 N. Cañon Dr., Beverly Hills, (310) 385-0880.
MICHAEL’S: 1147 Third St., Santa Monica, (310) 451-0843.
SAPP COFFEE SHOP: 5183 Hollywood Blvd., Hlywd., (323) 665-1035.
LOS ANGELES ZOO: 5333 Zoo Dr., L.A., (323) 644-4200.
TRAVEL TOWN MUSEUM: 5200 Zoo Dr., L.A., (323) 662-5874.
BULGARINI GELATO: 749 E. Altadena Dr., Altadena, (626) 791-6174.
CHUNG KING: 1000 S. San Gabriel Blvd., San Gabriel, (626) 286-0298.
LOU ON VINE: 724 N. Vine St., Hlywd., (323) 962-6369.


Posted by Amy Scattergood on 12:04 PM, Aug 8 2007
Gelato and a movie
Bulgarini_3 Driving up the San Gabriel foothills into Altadena for a fix of Bulgarini Gelato has been well worth the trek since the outpost opened in April. And now you can pull up a folding chair and stay awhile: Owners Leo Bulgarini and his wife, Elizabeth, recently instituted movie nights. Every other Friday night, after the sun (and the lines snaking out the door) goes down, at about 9:30, you can watch an Italian movie free of charge in the open courtyard outside their shop.
Eat a bowl of pistachio gelato or spoon up an affogato (a scoop of gelato topped by a shot of espresso) while you wait for the same stars watched by the nearby Mt. Wilson Observatory to come out. Last Friday, the third movie night so far this summer, it was a showing of "Mediterraneo," the Italian flick that won an Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 1992. Come early, save a seat and get dinner too: for $9 you can get a huge plate of homemade lasagne or ravioli and a salad at the table they set up outside. Or get back in line for a second bowl of plum sorbetto or chocolate-orange gelato while you brush up on your Italian. Not that it's required; the films are subtitled, even if the occasional shouts from the back of the house aren't.

Bulgarini Gelato, 749 E. Altadena Drive, Altadena; (626) 441-2319.
-- Amy Scattergood
Photo by Stefano Paltera for The Times

Dining
99 Essential Restaurants: The Metropolitan Palate
By JONATHAN GOLD
Wednesday, June 20, 2007 - 12:00 pm
Bulgarini Gelato
Los Angeles is thick with skilled gelato makers at the moment — Tai Kim at Scoops, Allessandro Fontana at Gelato Bar, and the artisans at Pazzo Gelato. But Bulgarini, the love child of Roman expat Leo Bulgarini and his Altadena-raised wife, Elizabeth Foldi, is a singular, perfect blossom in a world of international sweets conglomerates and by-the-book mixes: fragrant Sicilian pistachio gelato, vivid blood orange sorbetto, subtle cinnamon cream, and dark, smoky chocolate gelati flavored with orange peel, with fresh hazelnuts, or with rum. After a Gypsy-like year of existence flitting from museum courtyard to moviehouse lobby, Bulgarini finally has a permanent location, although unless you’re lucky enough to live in Altadena or the upper reaches of Pasadena, the new shop could hardly be less convenient. The faithful could scarcely care less. 749 E. Altadena Dr. Altadena, (626) 441-2319. Wed.–Thurs., Sun. noon–8 p.m., Fri.–Sat. noon–9 p.m. Takeout. Gelateria. ¢

It's crazy good!
Local artisans are giving gelato and ice cream the VIP treatment. French macaron ice cream sandwiches? In this town, everything's possible.
[HOME EDITION] Los Angeles Times - Los Angeles, Calif. Author: Amy Scattergood Date: Apr 11, 2007 Section: Food; Part F; Features Desk Document
(Copyright (c) 2007 Los Angeles Times)
LEO BULGARINI is a little obsessed with gelato. The Rome-born ex- sommelier and his wife, Elizabeth Foldi, spent two years scouring villages throughout Italy seeking those who still made gelato the old way, using not pastes and premade bases, but fresh ingredients.
Seeking the right pistachios for the gelato they make in their new Altadena gelateria, they traveled from Rome to Sicily, finding them at last in the little town of Bronte. California pistachios, he says, don't have the right depth of flavor. Toasted in the oven, then crushed in an old-fashioned peanut butter grinder, the Sicilian pistachios go into a gelato that's dense and creamy, with a rich, earthy flavor and a raspy texture that reminds you just how distinctive the nuts are. It is just as wonderful as his cantaloupe sorbetto spiked with Tanqueray gin, that, he says, gives the sorbetto "extra oomph and a certain depth."
Bulgarini and a few others in and around Los Angeles are taking gelato and ice cream to a whole new level. At Milk in West Hollywood, a Patina Group chef is giving old-fashioned ice cream the kind of devoted attention he used to give to a smoked sturgeon and potato terrine. Gelato Bar in Studio City is updating classic Italian gelato with fresh California ingredients. The results couldn't be more delicious.
It's not the first time gelato has been in the spotlight in Los Angeles -- in the late '80s there was a gelateria craze. But this generation of artisans, joined by an ice cream maker or two, is taking the craft to something that seems more like an art. They're perfecting techniques to get the purest flavor and creamiest texture, seeking out the ripest peak-season fruit, the best chocolate, the most flavorful, freshest nuts.
Gelato -- Italian ice cream -- is denser and less rich than most American ice cream, often with more intensity of flavor. Less air is incorporated into it, and it has a lower butterfat content than ice cream, largely because of a preference for milk over cream.
Bulgarini, who until 2006 worked as a consulting sommelier at Tre Venezie in Pasadena, first made gelato when he was a child in Rome, with his uncle. He and Foldi were determined, when they came up with the idea of opening a gelateria, to learn to make gelato the old- fashioned way. "The artisan is dying out," Bulgarini says. "Both here and in Italy."

In search of excellence
IT wasn't easy finding worthy teachers. "In Rome right now there are about eight gelaterias that make it from scratch," Bulgarini says. "Maybe 99% of gelato in Italy is industrial," adds Foldi, a Pasadena native who gave up her career as a litigator to make gelato. "It was killing her soul," says her husband.
At last they found the gelato genius they were looking for in 82- year-old Guido Luca Cavieziel, a third-generation gelato maker, in retirement in the Sicilian town of Catania. In the two months he spent with Bulgarini and Foldi, he taught them the formulas he used to make superlative gelati. The distinctive creaminess of gelato comes from ingredients combined in specific proportion to each other. "If you do the math, you don't have to add a bunch of junk," Bulgarini says. Just the freshest fruit, the best nuts, the purest milk (Bulgarini's comes from Broguiere's Dairy in Montebello).
They opened their shop, Bulgarini Gelato, in a pretty courtyard under the looming San Gabriel mountains, just 11 days ago. (Before he opened in Altadena, Bulgarini wandered with his gelato cart from venue to venue for a year, peddling from the Pacific Asia Museum to Caltech to Pasadena's Laemmle Playhouse 7 movie theater.)
The gelateria has the charm of an airy farmhouse kitchen, with rustic painted furniture and shelves filled with jars of brightly colored amaretti and Italian chocolates. A beautiful copper Elektra espresso machine and a vintage 1960s granita maker the couple had shipped from Rome are more like architectural still lifes than machinery.
Bulgarini changes flavors daily, depending on what he and Foldi bring back from trips to local farms -- or what they pack in their suitcase during frequent trips to Italy. Raspberries from Santa Barbara go into an intensely flavored raspberry sorbetto. Marsala from Sicily sets the zabaglione gelato apart; Ojai cherimoyas from Santa Barbara Farmers Market make spectacular tropical gelato.
Gail Silverton, who opened Gelato Bar with partner and fiance Joel Gutman in September, is just as obsessed as Bulgarini, but she leaves the gelato making to Allessandro Fontana, a gelato specialist who came to Los Angeles from Venice in August.
Silverton creates the gelato flavors in consultation with Fontana. Some are her takes on old favorites, like the beautifully perfumed strawberry sorbetto made with strawberries she gets from local farmers markets. "Some we just invent," Silverton says. Like cinnamon basil or black sesame gelato, or a vanilla gelato with ribbons of dark chocolate and candied orange peel. Or the creamy chocolate sorbetto that Silverton loves to pair with a blood orange sorbetto Fontana makes with the oranges from his backyard tree. "That's my favorite combination," Silverton says.
Silverton's original plan was to make her own gelato. She'd just completed a gelato-making class given by Carpagiani, an Italian gelato machine manufacturer. When she learned her new storefront wasn't equipped with enough power to run her gelato machines, the Carpagiani people put her in touch with Fontana. He makes Silverton's gelato at a facility in Burbank, though the two have been talking about opening a shop of their own. "Of course we want to make it in-house," Silverton says. "We've wanted that since the beginning."
Silverton's Studio City shop reflects not her childhood in Los Angeles as much as her adulthood, much of it spent in Umbria. The ambience is all Italy: tiled floors, an indoor stone fountain, marble-topped counters, cafe tables and, on Thursday afternoons, free Italian lessons given by the same expat Italian woman who gives Silverton her lessons. Though Silverton's background is in education, not food, (she runs the Neighborhood School, a private preschool in the San Fernando Valley) gelatomania seems to run in the family: At her sister Nancy Silverton's Pizzeria Mozza, all but one of the desserts involves gelato, made on site by Nancy and pastry chef Dahlia Narvaez.
*
Dreamy ice cream
BUT passion for frozen desserts doesn't stop with gelato; at Milk, American ice cream gets the epicurean treatment. Big glass cases display a dozen house-made ice cream flavors such as coffee toffee made with house-made toffee candy, dense Vahlrona chocolate, and mango, made from ripe fruit that chef-owner Bret Thompson picks up in an Asian market near his home. There are also macaron-encased ice cream sandwiches; hand-dipped ice cream bonbons; ice cream cakes; and homey pastries -- and a nook for glass milk-bottle returns.
Thompson says he wanted "a small-town little shop" when he switched gears after a decade in fine dining with the Patina Group, where he was executive chef. A 1950s Ohio soda shop, that is, with its own pastry chef -- Patina-trained Richard Yoshimura -- and storefront in the middle of chic West Hollywood.
"It's fun to do saffron ice cream like I did at Patina," Thompson says, "but I wanted to get back to my childhood." Thompson, who grew up in Chatsworth, says he got excited when he watched the Pinkberry craze hit and started thinking about how he could bring his European training to something as "accessible and All-American" as ice cream.
And then there's Caffe Primo, the glitzy new gelateria in the Millennium Plaza on Sunset Strip. Owner Tony Riviera closed his 2- year-old Primo Gelato store and moved across the piazza into larger digs, opening Caffe Primo in December. This is gelato gone Hollywood, with two flat-screen televisions set to shows like "The Tyra Banks Show" and tourists trying to spot celebrity regulars (Riviera keeps a miniature French press for Jeremy Piven under his two orange La Marzocco espresso machines).
Even the flavors are Hollywood glam, left coast fusion all the way: coconut-mango, chile-chocolate and, in season, white truffle. And, for "adults only," a Cabernet-pomegranate sorbetto and a gelato made from pink Champagne.
So where is this all headed? This summer may see new openings: Pazzo Gelato has plans for a second store in the Arts District downtown, and Riviera says he's also going to open a new store downtown. Gail Silverton is already looking to open another shop. "Maybe the Westside," she says. "We have so many people coming over from Brentwood with coolers."
And Thompson? "We're going to get an ice cream truck," he says. "One of those old-school milk trucks, something very nostalgic."
Imagine West Hollywood traffic slowing not for a movie shoot or an errant celebrity -- but for cars to stop for a most fabulous ice cream cone.
*
amy.scattergood@latimes.com
**
Coffee toffee ice cream sandwiches
Total time: About 2 hours, 40 minutes, plus freezing time
Servings: 10
Note: From Bret Thompson and Richard Yoshimura at Milk. This recipe will make slightly more toffee and ice cream than called for in the recipe. The toffee will store for two days covered loosely with parchment or wax paper in a cool, dry place.
Toffee
2 cups sugar
1/8 cup corn syrup
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
3/8 cup almond meal
1. Place the sugar, corn syrup and one-half cup water in a heavy- bottomed saucepan and bring to a boil. Use a candy thermometer to watch the temperature and cook to 280 degrees, then carefully add the butter.
2. Bring the temperature to 330 degrees or until the mixture is amber. Remove from the heat and add the salt, vanilla extract and almond meal. Immediately pour onto a parchment-lined shallow pan to cool and set.
Coffee ice cream
3 cups whole milk
3 cups cream
1 cup sugar, divided
8 egg yolks
1 ounce (about 6 tablespoons) coarse-ground coffee beans
7 ounces (about 1 1/4 cups) chopped toffee
1. In a medium saucepan, bring the milk, cream, half the sugar and the ground coffee to a boil.
2. In a medium mixing bowl, use a whisk to combine the egg yolks and the remaining half cup of sugar and slowly -- so as not to cook the eggs -- pour it into the hot cream mixture.
3. Reduce the heat to low and stir until the mixture coats the back of a spoon, about 30 minutes. Strain the mixture quickly and chill in an ice bath, about 10 to 15 minutes.
4. Pour the mixture into an ice cream machine and follow the manufacturer's instructions. Remove from the machine and stir in the chopped toffee. Place the ice cream in a container with a lid, cover the surface of the ice cream with plastic wrap, cover tightly with the lid and freeze (several hours to overnight) to harden.
Coffee macarons and assembly
4 large egg whites, divided
2 cups powdered sugar
2 cups almond flour
1 1/4 teaspoons instant coffee
1 1/8 cups granulated sugar
1. Mix 2 egg whites with the powdered sugar, almond flour and instant coffee and set aside.
2. Bring the granulated sugar and one-fourth cup water to a boil and, using a thermometer to monitor the temperature, cook until 240 to 248 degrees. Just before the sugar reaches temperature, begin beating the 2 remaining egg whites with a mixer. When the sugar syrup reaches temperature, turn the mixer on high and slowly add the syrup to the egg whites in a thin stream. Beat until the egg whites are firm and glossy.
3. Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Fold the meringue into the almond mix. Place macaron batter into a large pastry bag with a wide, straight opening.
4. With a marker, draw 2 1/2 -inch circles onto parchment paper cut to the size of your cookie sheet (you should be able to draw 4 to 6 circles per pan, with about 1 1/2 inches between each circle). Place the parchment face-down on the cookie sheet. Pipe the batter onto the parchment-lined cookie sheet. Shake the pan and tap lightly on the counter top until the meringue settles to about 3 1/4 inches in diameter, and let them sit 12 to 14 minutes to form a "skin" (the surface will have lost its sheen).
5. Bake about 10 minutes, until solid on the outside but still chewy in the center. Place cookies on a rack to cool. To store, leave on a rack in a cool, dry place for up to two days.
6. For ice cream sandwiches, place about half a cup ice cream between two macarons and press gently together.
Each serving: 715 calories; 9 grams protein; 99 grams carbohydrates; 3 grams fiber; 34 grams fat; 15 grams saturated fat; 153 mg. cholesterol; 145 mg. sodium.
**
Cherimoya gelato
Total time: About 1 1/2 hours plus freezing time
Servings: 10 servings
Note: From Leo Bulgarini, of Bulgarini Gelato. Have an ice bath ready for the custard. The same basic recipe may be used for peach gelato -- just use 2 cups chopped peaches and puree them with the juice of one-fourth lemon.
About 2 cups chopped
cherimoya
3/4 cup sugar
4 egg yolks
4 cups whole milk
1. In a blender or food processor, puree the cherimoya until smooth and set aside.
2. In a large saucepan, mix the sugar, egg yolks and milk together over medium-high heat, stirring constantly. Do not boil.
3. After about 30 minutes on the stove (the mixture will have thickened into a custard while simmering), remove the pan from the heat and pour the mixture through a cheesecloth into a bowl set into an ice bath. Stir as the mixture cools.
4. When the custard has cooled to 40 degrees, take it out of the ice bath and blend it in a blender with the cherimoya puree. You may do this in batches if your blender is small.
5. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. Spread it evenly into a container with a lid, cover the surface of the ice cream with plastic wrap and then the lid and freeze it for at least 5 hours, or overnight. Makes 5 cups.
Each serving: 172 calories; 5 grams protein; 28 grams carbohydrates; 1 gram fiber; 5 grams fat; 3 grams saturated fat; 92 mg. cholesterol; 44 mg. sodium.
**
Blood orange sorbetto
Total time: About 1 hour, plus freezing time
Servings: 8 (makes about 4 cups sorbetto)
Note: From Allessandro Fontana of Gelato Bar.
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 cup corn syrup
3 1/4 cup freshly squeezed blood orange juice
1. Combine sugar, corn syrup and one-half cup plus 1 tablespoon water in a large saucepan and cook over low heat until the sugar is dissolved.
2. Turn off the heat and when the mixture reaches 70 degrees, add the blood orange juice and mix well.
3. Pour into an ice cream machine and make according to the manufacturer's instructions.
4. Remove and place sorbetto in a lidded container, covering the surface with plastic wrap, then covering with a lid and placing in the freezer.
Each serving: 129 calories; 1 gram protein; 32 grams carbohydrates; 0 fiber; 0 fat; 0 saturated fat; 0 cholesterol; 13 mg. sodium.
**
For an elegant ice cream sandwich, start with coffee-almond macarons
For a complete guide to preparing a coffee toffee ice cream sandwich, with photos of making toffee and assembling the sandwiches, go to latimes.com/food.

Want the finest? Here's the scoop
[HOME EDITION]    Los Angeles Times - Los Angeles, Calif. Author: Amy Scattergood, Susan LaTempa Date: Apr 11, 2007
HERE'S a selection of our favorite places in Los Angeles and Orange counties for the best artisanal gelato and the finest house- made European- or American-style ice cream.
Bulgarini. Leo Bulgarini's and Elizabeth Foldi's new Altadena gelateria will have its grand opening on Saturday, with free gelato from noon to 8 p.m. About two dozen frozen choices such as Sicilian almond gelato, cherimoya gelato and Valrhona chocolate-rum gelato, cantaloupe-Tanqueray sorbetto and espresso granita. 749 E. Altadena Drive, Altadena; (626) 441-2319; www.bulgarinigelato.com.

Gelato: It's not Italian for Jell-O
By Felisa Billet, Special for USA TODAY
Traditional ice cream may be in for a licking. Or at least a little healthy competition.
With summer upon us, more Americans are turning to gelato as the newest form of cool — not only in culinary-hip Los Angeles and New York but also in less likely locales such as Baltimore, Phoenix, and even Waukesha, Wis.
Blame it on more adventurous palates and, yes, wanderlust.
"When people see the word gelato, it brings them back to the romantic notions of fine ice cream and of Italy," says Jon Snyder of Il Laboratorio del Gelato in New York.
Kara Neilson, trend analysis manager at the Center for Culinary Development in San Francisco, thinks gelato's rising popularity also has to do with a growing appreciation for bolder flavors on this side of the Atlantic.
FIND MORE STORIES IN: Italy | Wis | Waukesha | Italian ice
In Italian, gelato refers to frozen desserts, while the English term signifies traditional Italian ice cream that is churned at a lower speed than its American counterpart. This allows for less air to be whipped, resulting in a denser and softer product. Gelato typically contains 4%-10% butterfat, while American ice cream contains 10%-18% butterfat, with premium versions sometimes reaching 22% or more.
Gelato's hallmark is its bold, intense flavors that are not obscured by high fat content that coats the tongue and distracts the palate, explains Neilson. And since gelato is stored at a warmer freezer temperature, its soft texture does not numb taste buds, leaving them open to accept more flavor.
"Artisanal gelato parlors are popping up as an alternative to American ice cream," says Neilson. "Instead of using pre-made bases or pastes, they're making gelato from scratch."
But the trend transcends artisanal parlors. It's also showing up in supermarket aisles and home kitchens.
Gelato maker Villa Dolce, which supplies top-name restaurateurs such as Wolfgang Puck, sells gelato-making machines ($109 and up) through its website, villadolcegelato.com.
"We were getting calls from people in places like Oklahoma and Kansas who had been to Italy and wanted to replicate what they had there," says Villa Dolce founder Monte Marcaccini. "So, at Christmastime, we started our at-home line and, even with no marketing, we completely sold out."
Similarly, gelato maker Ciao Bella, which distributes to supermarkets nationwide, says sales have jumped 66% over the past year. "Our growth in supermarkets is growing faster than our food service and gelaterie growth," says Deborah Holt of Ciao Bella. "Buyers are more educated and know gelato is all about the ingredients."
Showcasing fine ingredients is the essence of a great gelato, say both aficionados and makers.
"Gelato should be healthy, simple and natural," says Noah Dan, who recently opened Pitango Gelato in Baltimore. "It shouldn't have chemicals, artificial flavorings and heavy stuff that are part of industrial ice cream."
Dan uses organic products including eggs, cream and milk from a grass-fed herd on an organic farm. At the dairy, Dan pasteurizes the milk and cream with the main gelato ingredients to avoid a double-pasteurization process that would affect the final flavor.
When local ingredients don't meet his exacting standards, Dan searches the globe. His pickings include Haitian mangoes, Costa Rican chocolate, Sicilian pistachios and hazelnuts from Italy.
Lori Roeske, owner of Divino Gelato in Waukesha, Wis., says she hears almost daily from customers who say her gelatos are as good as anything they've experienced abroad — including Italy. "For (people here), trying our traditional gelato in Italian-size portions is a new experience. They are floored at how good it tastes."
For David Lebovitz, author of The Perfect Scoop, gelato is all about the concentrated flavor from high-quality ingredients. "This style of ice cream is gutsy and rich with bold, knock-your-socks-off flavor," he says.
This is apparent at Il Laboratorio, where Snyder customizes such versions as chocolate-hazelnut, toasted almond or whipped cheddar cheese.
"Artisanal gelato is part of a larger trend of appreciating fine food," says Snyder. "It's an understanding that there's more to ice cream than just vanilla and chocolate."
 |
| In New York: Patrons form a line to get gelato outside Grom, located on Manhattan?s Upper West Side. It's the first U.S. outpost of the Italian ice cream chain. |

TAKE A TASTE FROM L.A. TO NEW YORK
These gelaterias make small batches with premium ingredients:
-Bulgarini, Pasadena, Calif. Highlights include Valrhona chocolate-rum and zabaglione made with marsala from Sicily.
626-441-2319; bulgarinigelato.com
-Gelato Bar, Los Angeles. Besides Italian classics such as Nocciola, Straciatella and Gianduia, flavors include English toffee, cinnamon basil and rosemaryl-emon among the 24 daily varieties. 818-487- 1717; gelatobar-la.com
-Divino Gelato, Waukesha, Wis. Hand-crafted gelato and sorbetto with 24 flavors daily, including candy bar and cookie mix-ins. 262-446-9490; divino gelato.com
-Pitango Gelato, Baltimore. Uses organic ingredients and traditional Italian methods. Flavors include Italian chocolate-hazelnut androasted pistachio, as well as kiwi-yogurt and chocolate infused with hot peppers. 410-702- 5828; pitangogelato.com
-Grom, New York City. Uses all-natural, premium ingredients with 20 flavors offered daily. The most popular is Grom Cream: an egg-cream base mixed with corn biscuits from Italy and chocolate flakes from Ecuador. 646-290-7233; grom.it/eng
-Il Laboratorio del Gelato, New York City. Twenty rotating flavors from a repertoire of more than 175. Unusual combinations include honey lavender, tarragon with pink pepper, and bourbon pecan. 212- 343-9922; laboratoriodelgelato.com
Counter Intelligence
Cool Hunting
Sweet heat relief at Bulgarini gelateria
By Jonathan Gold
Wednesday, July 26, 2006 - 12:00 pm
When it is 109 degrees in Pasadena, when the live oaks droop and the front range of the San Gabriels burns with a terrible heat, there is no better place to be in the city than the shaded courtyard of the Pacific Asia Museum, among the Japanese statues and the swimming koi, the muscular Myron Hunt architecture, and the frail cart that houses Bulgarini Gelato, whose pistachio is fragrant as a lyric poem, whose lemon tames the sun, whose peach-moscato sorbetto is even more delicious than a chilled Bellini, even more delicious than a chilled Bellini made from a peach you have plucked from your own tree.
Los Angeles is thick with skilled gelato makers at the moment, with the product of Tai Kim at Scoops, whose cucumber-mint ice is among the most refreshing things you will ever taste, and the artisans at Pazzo Gelato in Silver Lake, whose crowded shop has created a scene reminiscent of high noon on the Via Veneto. But Bulgarini, the love child of Rome native Leo Bulgarini and his Altadena-raised wife, Elizabeth Foldi, is a singular, perfect blossom in a world of international sweets conglomerates and by-the-book mixes.
All the best gelato makers have the texture down, the almost supernatural creaminess without cream, the weightlessness, the way that a spoonful feels as if it is suspended in your mouth — a pistachio-flavored caesura in the time-space continuum — until that moment when it slides down your throat in a clean, cold, ectoplasmic rush. The gelato at San Crispino in Rome is like that, a creature of perfect smoothness, as well as the gelati that sometimes make it onto the menu at Campanile, any number of places in Florence, and a shop near the northern wall of Viterbo that I was never able to find again. If you get a good batch, you can approximate the sensation with a quart of Ciao Bella from the freezer case, although freshness in gelato may be as important as it is in black raspberries or Left Bank baguettes.
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| Leo Bulgarini and Elizabeth Foldi with their frosty love child |
Anybody can learn to make decent gelato, and the principals of Bulgarini certainly apprenticed with some of the best gelato makers in Rome. But not everybody has the gift. It is a kind of alchemy to capture flavors in their truest, most flattering form, like pinning a butterfly under glass in a way that displays the majestic iridescence while making you forget that you are looking at a bug.
Bulgarini’s chocolate gelato, for example, may use the same Valrhona product that most pastry chefs keep around in massive bars, but instead of emphasizing the winy acidity of good chocolate, this gelato brings out the elusive smokiness, a gentle autumnal tang that usually stays hidden in the mix. In the zabaglione gelato, based on the popular Roman egg-yolk custard, the flavor is so vivid, so pure, that you could swear you’re experiencing not just the particular essence of the egg, but also what the hen in question had for supper the night before last. The chocolate-hazelnut gelato, which 99 chefs out of 100 will make with Nutella spooned straight out of the jar, has the smack of freshly roasted nuts. And the putty-colored pistachio, made with nuts Foldi specially imports from Sicily, traps and magnifies the high, slightly fermented flavor of first-rate pistachios with such purity that you may realize that you have never really tasted a pistachio at all.
Great gelato makers specialize in capturing the ephemeral, the flit of resinous complexity across the midrange of a white peach, the bare hint of sweaty afternoon sex in the scent of a juicy midsummer melon, the phenolic fugue inscribed in the taste of a ripe banana. When you look at a Chardin painting of fruit, the cherries are sweeter, riper, more impossibly aromatic than an actual cherry could ever be. When you taste the cassis sorbet at Paris’ Berthillon, it is more than cassis: rounder, subtler, more exquisitely perfumed than cassis, which in its natural form is a fairly boring kind of black currant. And then there is Bulgarini’s pistachio.
Does Mr. Bulgarini enjoy talking about his gelato? No. He would much rather discuss the last game of the World Cup, kick by kick by kick.
Bulgarini Gelato, in the courtyard of the Pacific Asia Museum, 46 N. Los Robles Ave., Pasadena; (626) 441-2319, www.bulgarinigelato.com. Open Fri.–Sun. 11 a.m.

Early each morning, Leonidas Bulgarini and Elizabeth Foldi buy fresh fruit at the produce markets in downtown Los Angeles. They bring back cases of seasonal bounty, like blueberries, cantaloupe and white peaches, to their gelato shop in Pasadena.
On a recent weekday, Bulgarini decided to make blueberry sorbetto (mirtillo). He washed the fruit, inspected each berry by hand and threw the rotten ones out. He pulled off the tiny stems, one by one. He blended the berries, then added the puree to a sugarwater solution and froze the mixture in a gelato machine for about 20 minutes. In the last few moments, he added a splash of moscato d'asti, an Italian dessert wine, to add dimension to the flavor.
I scooped up the fat-free delight with a little shovel, and the bright, creamy flavor of blueberries burst in my mouth.
The fruit in my dessert was only four hours old. Handmade Italian ice cream is a rare treat, whether it is gelato (made with milk) or sorbetto (without milk).

Before the couple opened their shop, Bulgarini was a manager and sommelier at Trattoria Tre Venezie, an upscale Italian restaurant in Pasadena. The Italian native grew up in Rome, and wears his hair in a long ponytail. He met Foldi when she walked in for dinner one night. His wife-to-be had worked as lawyer for several years, but was looking toward food as a new career.
While Foldi is Chinese and Hungarian, she is also fluent in Italian.
"I was pumping him for information about Rome, because I wanted to move there," Foldi said. "He said, next time I'll let you know. And I thought, What next time?'
Bulgarini eventually won her over, and the pair traveled to his hometown together and stayed for a year. They wanted to learn how to make authentic gelato the old, artisan way, but couldn't find anyone in the city who knew how.
They finally found an octogenarian in Sicily who was a famed gelato maker. They arranged to meet the gelato master, who passed down his techniques to the couple.
After they came back home, they opened their gelateria in April, just inside the Pacific Asia Museum in Old Pasadena. The pair makes traditional Italian favorites, as well as zen-inspired flavors like chocolate ginger, mandarin orange and lychee strawberry.
Actually, most of the time, Bulgarini makes the gelato; Foldi is the taste tester.
"I love doing it," Bulgarini said. "The one thing about gelato is, when people eat it, it's (like) ice cream, and people are happy."

The basic method of making gelato starts with combining the base ingredients: milk, sugar, nonfat milk powder, and vanilla beans. After heating the mixture through, you add chocolate, espresso, fruit or nut paste. A popular flavor in Italy is zabaglione, which is flavored
with marsala wine..
Bulgarini has his own little secrets to making his phenomenal Italian ice cream. He only uses all-natural ingredients and revealed that he lets the gelato mature a little longer in the freezer.
All of the sorbettos are made with fresh seasonal produce. Sometimes Bulgarini will go to San Luis Obispo to find quality produce.

He only uses organic milk in the gelatos, as well as quality ingredients like Madagascar vanilla beans, imported Sicilian pistachios from the volcanic region of Bronte, and hazelnuts from Piedmont.
Making Italian ice cream from scratch is time-consuming, expensive, and takes a certain amount of skill. The fruits, proteins and sugars need to be balanced, Bulgarini said. A lot of things can go wrong, too: The finished product can develop ice crystals, or the flavor can be too rich or not sweet enough.
Most gelato shops in the United States and even Italy have switched to pre-made bases and artificial flavors. People have forgotten traditional methods as they turn to packaged products, and the art of gelato making is dying, Bulgarini said.
"Gelato is not like reinventing the wheel. It's making it from scratch and the artisanal quality of gelato that's being lost," he said. "In mass-produced lemon sorbet, the lemon is so tangy, you feel something artificial. You might taste acid, which is a preservative they put in so it lasts longer. When I'm making gelato, I make it so it doesn't last more than a few days."
Bulgarini is also a sculptor and a welder, and he likes to create beautiful things from raw material. He has the same sentiments about gelato: making it by hand is more difficult, but worth it, he said.
"Young people these days are working in banks, with air conditioning and on their cell phones," Bulgarini said. "They don't know about hard work. And you see these old gelato masters in Italy riding around on their bikes, but they make the most unbelievable gelato you've ever eaten."

In the future, Bulgarini and Foldi want to make chocolate-dipped gelato, as well as sugar-free and lactose-free versions.
"I want to make things other people don't make," Bulgarini said. "I want to do what the old artisanal masters used to do 40 to 50 years ago. Through making gelato, I'm just trying to preserve a little of my heritage."
ivy.dai@sgvn.com
(626) 962-8811, Ext. 2507

Ausland
PASADENA
Die Eisheiligen
Global Village: Wie zwei Einwanderer Amerika retten wollen –
mit Vanille, Pistazie und Sinnlichkeit
Leo nimmt jetzt eine Mango vom Stapel,
er hält sie mit beiden Händen,
wie man ein Baby hält, er beugt sich
vor, versunken, starrt die Frucht an, als
wollte er durch die Schale blicken, dreht
sie, schnuppert, wiegt die Mango in den
Händen, betastet sie, nickt. Atmet hörbar
aus. Legt sie beiseite.
Va bene, ist okay. Leise Stimme.
Leo, langhaarig, lässig, geboren in Rom,
gelernter Schmied, dann Metallbildhauer,
dann Landwirt, großbürgerliche Herkunft,
dann nach Amerika, einfach so, weil es
romantisch war und er sich beweisen wollte,
in Los Angeles Tellerwäscher, Kellner,
Pizzabäcker, Manager, Türsteher, bärig, bedächtig
und ausgestattet mit einer Adriano-
Celentano-Stimme sowie Bizepsen, die
sich, wenn er die schweren Kisten stemmt,
wölben wie Zuckermelonen – Leo hat
schon die nächste Mango. Schnuppern,
tasten, starren, und so vergeht
der Vormittag, nach den
Mangos die Erdbeeren, dann die
Pistazien, drei Säckchen, die Eier.
Dann die Haselnüsse. Die Schokolade.
Leo Bulgarini, 37 Jahre alt, seit
16 Jahren in den USA, hat neue
Visitenkarten drucken lassen. Unter
seinen Namen ließ er mit
kecken Schnörkeln setzen: Gelato
Artigianale, was man frei übersetzen
kann mit „Eis-Kunstwerke“.
men beschatteten Innenhof. Ein Espresso
wäre jetzt nicht schlecht. Aber es gibt kein
Café. Dafür eine Küche. Und da fuhrwerkt
Leo. Und winkt einen heran.
Hier ist sein Trainingscamp, sein Labor,
und falls Kunden kommen, sind sie Testpersonen.
Man gibt für drei Portionen eine 20Dollar-
Note hin und bekommt ein unbeträchtliches
Wechselgeld zurück, und während
man noch rechnet und überlegt, ob
man irgendwie meckern sollte, hat man
bereits probiert, und Leo beobachtet aus
den Augenwinkeln.
Es schmeckt umwerfend.
Erdbeere: fruchtig, aromatisch, wie noch
nie im Leben ein Erdbeereis geschmeckt
hat, Wald und Schatten, Untertöne von
Pflaume, Likör, Birne, Minze; das Pistazieneis:
komplex, nussig, rauchig, pfefferig;
italien, die Schweiz, Sizilien, sie aßen in
Hunderten Eisdielen, interviewten Dutzende
Eismacher, nahmen in Catania
monatelang Unterricht, schrieben Notizbücher
voll, kamen zurück. Nahmen einen
Kredit auf, 50 000 Dollar. Mieteten
sich im Museumshof ein, fanden außerdem
einen Laden an der Lake Avenue,
ihre eigene Eisdiele, die bald eröffnet wird,
ihr Missionswerk.
„Du kannst dir im Supermarkt“, sagt
Leo, „grauenvolles So-als-ob-Eis kaufen,
für zweieinhalb Dollar das Kilo – oder du
legst ein bisschen drauf, leistest dir eine
kleinere Portion und erlebst etwas damit.
Und erinnerst dich, mit Glück, den Rest
deines Lebens an den Geschmack.“
Drei Jahre haben sie ihren Coup vorbereitet.
Ihre Haselnüsse kommen aus dem
Piemont, die Pistazien aus Sizilien, die Vanille
von einem ökologischen Anbau
auf Madagaskar, schwierig
war die Wahl der Schokolade: Sie
experimentierten mit 40 Sorten
und entschieden sich für Valhrona,
mit etwas van Houten. Und
mindestens so wichtig ist das, was
sie nicht benutzen, all das, was auf
Eispackungen normalerweise hintendrauf
steht: Emulgatoren, Stabilisatoren,
Fruchtpüreekonzentrat,
stattdessen das beste Obst,
das man in Kalifornien kriegen
kann – für die Pfirsiche, Erdbee-
VOLKER CORELL
ren, Mangos fährt Leo zu einer
Plantage nördlich von Santa Bar-
Dies ist seine Mission. Denn
Leo will Amerika retten.
Er will Amerika retten, indem
er, gemeinsam mit seiner Frau Lisa, Ehepaar Bulgarini: Geschmack als Statement
das beste Speiseeis des Landes
kreiert; eine Erfolgsgeschichte wollen sie
schreiben, an deren Ende die Amerikaner
etwas unendlich Wichtiges gelernt haben
werden über Geschmack und Sinnlichkeit;
während sie, Leo und Lisa, reich geworden
sind und nach Rom zurückgehen und
abends auf einem Balkon sitzen werden,
auf den Campo de’ Fiori blicken und die
Rotweingläser heben: Auf dich, mio Amore,
und weißt du noch, damals, als alles begann
in jenem kleinen Museum in Pasadena?
Die Erfolgsgeschichte, so sie eine wird,
beginnt hier, eine Autostunde nordöstlich
von Downtown Los Angeles, Kalifornien.
Das Pacific Asia Museum liegt an der
Los Robles Avenue, vier kleine Säle, in die
sich kaum je ein Besucher verirrt, mit steinernen
Buddhas aus Angkor, 11. Jahrhundert,
und japanischen Masken der Edo-
Periode – und wenn man das alles gesehen
hat, tritt man in einen von Ginkgo-Bäu
die Schokolade: butterig, prachtvoll, in verblüffender
Balance.
Meine Güte, Leo, wie kriegen Sie das
hin?
Viel Arbeit, sagt er, die besten Zutaten,
und vollkommene Hingabe kann auch
nicht schaden.
Als Leo und Lisa sich kennenlernten,
vor drei Jahren, beschlossen sie, aus ihrem
Leben etwas Besonderes zu machen. Lisa
ist die Tochter eines ungarischen Revolutionärs,
der nach dem Aufstand 1956 in
die USA emigrierte und neu anfing, und einer
Chinesin. Lisa studierte Musik, Jura,
Biologie und suchte dabei nach dem Mann
ihres Lebens und der besonderen Aufgabe.
Und dann traf sie Leo. Der liebte sie und
erzählte von dieser Gelato-Idee, die er
schon immer hatte.
Sie kratzten ihre Ersparnisse zusammen
und reisten zwei Jahre lang durch Nord
bara, sieben Stunden Freeway,
dreimal die Woche. „Aber du
merkst es“, sagt er.
„Geschmack“, sagt Lisa, „ist ein Statement,
fast eine Revolution, fast schon
politisch.“
„Unsere Einstellung zum Essen spiegelt
alles wider“, sagt Leo, „das Verhältnis zu
Gemeinschaft, Tradition, Natur, zu uns
selbst.“
Ihr Eis wird teuer sein, aber nicht unbezahlbar;
eine Revolution für alle, im Becherchen.
Sie sind optimistisch – und übrigens
glauben auch andere an den Erfolg
der zwei Eisheiligen. Leo erzählt von einem
halben Dutzend Franchise-Angeboten.
„Wenn Amerikaner Geld wittern, werden
sie übereifrig“, sagt er. „Ich warte, bis
wir für die Partys der Stars und Milliardäre
die Desserts liefern – dann kann ich
mir meine Partner aussuchen. Und wenn
es nicht klappt, haben wir’s zumindest versucht.“
Er lächelt.
„Noch etwas Pistazie?“ Ralf Hoppe
132 der spiegel 34/2006
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