Is gelato just ice cream?

Plus a bit of history 🍦🤓

Freshly made gelato at Cremeria 059 near Modena

In Italy it seems there is no such thing as "too much gelato." Whether in Puglia, Sicily, Tuscany or Liguria, in everyone’s hand seems to be the same shared experience: a few scoops of frozen milk and sugar rapidly melting in the late afternoon sun.

But not all gelato is created equal. I recently came across several videos of Italians explaining to tourists how to pick out an artisanal gelato shop from one selling a mass-produced, low-quality product. The various pieces of advice boiled down to one main concept: the less flashy, the better. Heaping mounds of gelato over-whipped with air, vibrant colors like blue or yellow, or fake fruit placed on top are all tell-tale signs of industrial gelato. Meanwhile, the good stuff is often hidden away in cylindrical containers with steel caps designed to keep each flavor cool and fresh.

Before true gelato was invented, ancient civilizations also looked for ways to keep cool through frozen desserts. In China, around 200 BC, snow and ice were mixed with fruit juices to create a sweet, slushy treat. The idea then spread to Persia and the Middle East where it was refined even further by placing the liquid in a container before bringing it into contact with salted ice – the same basic process used to create gelato. The dessert, called shrb (from which we get the word sorbet) was then introduced to Europe during the Arab conquest of Sicily.

Gelato as we know it today didn’t arrive on the scene until the Renaissance era in the late 16th century. Although the exact origins are debated, it is widely believed that Bernardo Buontalenti, a Florentine artist and architect, created the product when asked by the Medici family to invent a dish that would impress visiting foreign dignitaries. In response, he blended milk, honey, and egg yolks with a hint of wine. The resulting frozen mixture was smoother and creamier than shrb. It was a big hit among his guests and continues to wow Italians and visitors to this day.

While gelato is often written off as simply being the Italian word for ice cream, the two have key differences. Gelato often has a higher sugar content than ice cream and is churned at slower speeds for a longer time resulting in a denser, silkier texture. It’s also served at slightly warmer temperatures. Both of these factors lead to a dessert with more concentrated flavors.

But the biggest difference between gelato and the hard ice cream found in American freezer aisles lies in plain sight. Ice cream recipes incorporate a higher percentage of cream resulting in a fat content between 10 and 25 percent. Gelato also uses cream but in a lower proportion to milk resulting in a fat content of less than 10 percent. In other words, gelato is both more flavorful and healthier. In Italy, gelato refers to recipes made with and without dairy.

Italians have a frozen dessert made with cream as well. It’s called semifreddo (literally: half-frozen) and has a texture resembling frozen mousse, Paolo Guerzoni explained to me at Cremeria 059, an artisanal gelato shop outside of Modena. Paolo and his wife Maura Luppi have been running the shop together for a decade, and every day begins by making a handful of their 27 flavors of both gelato and semifreddo.

As I learned when I visited Cremeria 059, gelato is a relatively simple process that relies on fresh ingredients and a certain level of craftsmanship to achieve the optimal result.

Paolo begins making strawberry gelato by measuring fresh fruit that’s been left to soak in its juice overnight. The recipe is straightforward: equal parts fruit, sugar, and water with a splash of lemon juice to give it a particular taste Paolo fondly refers to as “grandma’s strawberries from once upon a time.”

Paolo shows me how gelato can be churned inside of the Carpigiani L20, a machine from the 1970s that requires the operator to scrape the freezing gelato off of the blade using a long-handled spatula. At Cremeria 059, only Paolo and Maura are allowed to use the L20 to ensure that it doesn’t break. Staff members make gelato in the more modern machines nearby.

Once the blended strawberries are poured inside, the machine seems to be doing most of the work, but Paolo assures me that his job isn’t over just yet. Although it usually takes eight minutes to turn the liquid to a semi-solid, the consistency of the fresh fruit and how warmed up the machine is play a big role in the exact timing.

With time, he tells me, an operator can know when the gelato is ready just by the sound the machine makes. As the product freezes, the machine struggles and makes a harsher noise.

“However it’s still recommended that you take a look!” he laughs.

Today we pull out our gelato after 10 minutes. The color has changed from crimson red to a more muted red-pink (a shade one might even describe as strawberry!)

Paolo places the gelato in a metal container and brings it out to Maura who scoops me a cup. We’re in Modena, so this gelato gets a unique final touch – a few drops of balsamic vinegar to play up the sweetness of the strawberries.

It’s simply perfect.

Paolo and Maura