So far in Liner Notes I’ve been writing about things unique to Argentina, like facturas, fútbol, guitarra, and argentinity itself. So you may be asking yourself: “why is this even a topic? Every country has ice cream, right?” Well, stick with me and I’ll tell you why. Get ready for ice cream elevated to a new level of cultural importance.
Gelato or ice cream?
First of all, let’s be clear about the product in question: like so many things in this country, helado was brought here by Italians, so it’s the same as what Italians call gelato. In so many words, it’s different than the ice cream you get everywhere else in the world (which I love very much) which my Argentinian wife says “is not ice cream.”
What’s different?
The first time you have ice cream here you’ll notice a few differences in the experience. Let’s start by having a cone:
You go in to an ice cream parlor and the first thing you do is select the size of cone and pay for it. Then you’ll be given a magical piece of paper which gets the ball rolling. When it’s your turn you hand in the paper and start choosing flavors. Yes, I said flavors plural because you get to choose two.
NOTE: you have the right to test flavors, and you should exercise this right.
Suggestions? If you’re from a foreign land like I am, maybe go for a few of the classics which are exotic to us, and unavailable at Baskin Robbins: mascarpone, sambayón (egg liqueur), quinotos al whisky (kumquats in whisky), fig with walnuts, marrón glacé. You’ll be handed a tiny spoon with a sample. You should definitely try the vanilla, which is so flavorful here that it’s actually yellow. And if that’s not your style, you might go for crema americana, which is just sweet cream.
The next difference is that there are no scoops. With this style of ice cream, the servers use a sort of spatula and seem to be trained in a mysterious technique where by means of intense concentration and discipline, they spin the cream perfectly onto the cone. Every time I see this I think “I could never do that.”
Ice cream to go?
The first time you walk into an heladería in Argentina (and I recommend you do so immediately), you’ll notice that alongside the cones are a series of containers: 1/4, 1/2, and one kilo.
You can order these just the way you would a cone, and yes, you get to fill it with 3 or 4 flavors of your choice. More about this culturally essential item, to-go ice cream, later.
Ice cream parlor as landmark
Like many traditional businesses in Buenos Aires, there’s an heladería every couple of blocks, and some have been there for generations. These places tend to have handmade products, like Scannapieco, which once made a custom flavor for my wife because we were such regular customers. By the way, my wife is going to come up a lot today. She’s an ice cream devotee who has a lot to say about the topic.
Speaking of my spouse and ice cream landmarks: a few years ago we ended up moving to the neighborhood where she grew up, so she took me to the place that was her regular ice cream spot throughout childhood and adolescence. As we were ordering she said to the guy “you look familiar.” It turns out he’s the same guy that used to make her ice cream cones almost 30 years ago.
It’s so good
Before we move on, I just have to say it: if you’re used to regular ice cream (which again, I love), you’ll be blown away by helado argentino. Yes, it’s that good.
But it’s bigger than all of that
As amazing as it tastes, what I really want you to appreciate the supreme cultural importance of ice cream. Ice cream is everywhere and Argentines eat a lot of it.
They eat it all the time, all throughout the year. According to statistics from AFADHYA (yeah, that’s the ice cream makers’ association) people here consume 7 kilos of ice cream per person per year. That’s over 15 pounds.
Socially, it’s ubiquitous and essential. What’s the perfect way to finish off an evening out? Helado. What do you eat after a meal with friends? Helado. After a traditional asado maybe someone goes out to buy it, or more likely, you order delivery - even at 1 a.m.
Flavor controversy
Remember when I mentioned those kilo takeout containers? They are the conveyers of conflict, the bearers of controversial substance.
It all starts with a question: what flavors does everybody want? And then the negotiations begin. While banana split, lemon (no cream), and vanilla aren’t high up on my list, they’re in my wife’s top five. I, on the other hand am definitely going for dark chocolate, sambayón, and mint chocolate chip. (This last flavor puts me in an elite minority of connoisseurs but otherwise makes plenty of enemies).
In the middle we’ll agree on dulce de leche (or any of its variations), lemon pie, and mascarpone. Anyway, multiply this equation by all of the friends and family members at the table and you’re in for the classic, exuberant and controversial ice cream course.
Some will say that you can’t visit Buenos Aires without experiencing steak, soccer, and tango. True, true, and true…but let’s add helado 🍦 to that list.
Every once in a while I go to the bookshelf and revisit a classic from the days of high school required reading.
One of my favorite books in this category is Carson McCuller’s 1940 novel The Heart is a Lonely Hunter. In it, one of the aspects of Mick Kelly’s coming of age is her discovery of music and her fascination with its mysteriousness. She doesn’t own a radio and has to try and overhear what her neighbors are playing, eventually becoming transfixed by classical music. Mick struggles to replay and recreate the sounds in her mind, to connect the various fragments: “The music left only this bad hurt in her, and a blankness. She could not remember any of the symphonies… Now that it was over, there was only her heart like a rabbit and this terrible hurt.”
I love the idea of someone falling in love with music, being so mystified and wanting so deeply to understand it, hold it, remember it. Because the truth is we can’t hold music; it’s abstract, existing in time and then disappearing. And yet it moves us so much. So when I feel I’ve gotten caught up in the everyday tasks - writing, practicing, recording, laying out scores- I like to pause and try to go back to the innocence and mystery of Mick Kelly discovering Mozart through a transistor radio.
♫♪𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ of the week
Constelaciones del sur - OVERO
A friend of mine described this contemporary tango group as “Megadeth meets rootsy tango.” Four Spanish guitars and singer provide the roots, and their dark aesthetic does the rest. This is the title track from OVERO’s debut album, which just came out in June.
El esquinazo - Estudiantina Centenario
I usually recommend something something old and something new…this week I decided to go super new and super old. Did you know there are recordings of tango with mandolin?
Along with helado, Italians brought mandolins which used to have a really presence here. My friend Andrés Del Puerto is working on reviving the mandolin tradition in Buenos Aires, and he turned me on to this recording of one of the oldest tangos around, by Angel Villoldo (the grandfather of tango) with mandolin. It’s from 1910…how’s that for old?
La oncena - Los Andariegos
My friend Walter Martin is a musician, music connoisseur, and also a collector and adventurer into genres he’s unfamiliar with. Somehow he’s able to pinpoint the essence of a piece of music without having any knowledge of who made it or what the context was. You can hear him doing this (and talking about the music he knows encyclopedically) on his fantastic podcast which is a rebroadcast of his radio show where he plays music from his vinyl collection.
The other day we exchanged comments on Substack because he’s got some great Argentinian folkloric music. So here’s a recommendation for Walt, and for all of you, an Argentinian gem: Los Andariegos took folkloric music into some pretty experimental territory in the 1970’s, but the sounds (guitars, percussion, voices) are super traditional and the result is spectacular. If you can find this album on vinyl definitely pick it up.
Salivating for helado. Loved the samples but La oncena - Los Andariego blew me away with the perfect vocal alignment. Is that really possible?
In Constelaciones del Sur, the lines
"Ay, tal vez quieran ver el delirante circo
Que supimos conseguir"
are (in my view) an ironic reference to the National Anthem in the context of our political reality.