What’s the difference between ice cream and gelato? And, when it tastes this good, does anyone care? In Italy’s capital you have to become Roman foodie and cross the cultural divide to get the scoop on the city’s best gelateria.
But where do Romans queue for a cone?
Of all the amazing gelaterie in Rome, you’ll find the best 20 minutes’ walk from the bustle of the centro storico. It’s called Gelateria I Caruso and, despite howls of ‘Scandalo!’ at the 50-cent charge for whipped cream, locals queue out the door, from noon to dinner time.
The word ‘gelato’ is a test case for the untranslatability of Italian: ‘ice-cream’ doesn’t begin to cover it. Prior to any authentic experience of the culture, I once gave my Italian friend a designer Philippe-Starck-style ice-cream scoop, and she looked at me like the Queen of England being presented with a ribboned case of PG Tips.
Gelato is not scooped, ever. Nor does it contain bits of ice or fall onto the pavement like a dud tennis ball. It is spread onto cone or cup with a paddle, and is the consistency of cake batter.
Il Caruso, which stands on Via Collina, on the Quirinal hill just inside Rome’s Aurelian Walls, is exceptional. And it’s not only for the quality, richness and texture of its gelato, as proven daily by its clientele (Italians are beyond fastidious when it comes to their patronage of such parlours), but because you can see the stuff being made – metal churns are manned, or ladied, by two very precise looking women in white hospital-esque attire.
The flavours are also a class act. No regular chocolate, just double-strength dark, not ‘fior di latte’ (the nearest thing to vanilla), but ‘fior di panna’, made with cream not milk. No pistachio, but a ruinously good cappuccino-coloured hazelnut, plus my two all-time favourites – almond, and coffee. And that means real coffee – like an espresso per lick.
Fridges are lined with dinner-party (or Sunday dinner, or Monday breakfast…) treats: little flat cones of ice-cream encased in dark chocolate, mini-cones stuffed to the tip and their peaks again smoothed with a layer of choc, and a range of mother-in-law seducing ice-cream cakes.
There are no seats but two benches outside are ideal for lingering over your prized cone. The only down side is that when you’ve had it so good, where does that leave Ben and Jerry’s, or Haagen-Dazs? Italians would make a Queen face, and politely decline.
Il Caruso is located on Via Collina 13/15, central Rome. It is around a five/ten minute walk from Termini station.
