A branch of Amorino Gelateria opened this year two blocks from my sister Liti’s apartment on University Place in Manhattan (that would be at 11th Street). Liti and I took a little stroll over there the other day to see what all the fuss was about, and boy was that place crowded. The first Amorino shop opened in Paris in 2002, I believe on the Ile Saint-Louis, which must have given the ice cream makers at the famous Berthillon a small heart attack. It was started by two guys from Reggio Emilia and is now a franchise with shops around France and in Shanghai (but as far as I know none in Italy). It became famous for its beautifully and unusually turned out cones. Amorino presents its gelato in a floral design—I believe it’s meant to resemble a rose—by slapping petals of ice cream in a circular fashion, creating an extremely pretty if fleeting work of art (and this gelato melts quickly, so you gotta get this bloom down subito). I’d been looking forward to seeing this up close and personal, and I can say I wasn’t disappointed. I found the design stunning.
There are three sizes of cones, but the floral patterns works out best on the big ones, and it’s especially impressive if you choose two or three contrasting shades of gelato. Here in this photo, above, I’ve got vanilla, salted caramel, and cappuccino, a really gorgeous color combination. I saw another person ordering coconut (basically white) with a dark cherry at the center, which was lovely for about five seconds until it turned into a big, slightly bloody-looking offering (but still delicious, I would imagine).
I have to admit that the lure of this place for me is really in the artwork. My sister and another friend loved the gelato, but me, maybe I’m perverse, I found it too rich. When did Italian gelato become indistinguishable from heavy French egg-and-cream ice cream, or Haagen-Dazs, for that matter? I always thought the difference between ice cream and gelato was in the amount of fat. The gelatos I sampled in Italy, especially in Sicily, were always lighter, with an emphasis on the flavoring, the mouth feel was not as pully and thick. I’ll never forget the gelato I ate in the town of Noto, in flavors like orange blossom, jasmine, tangerine, pistachio, almond, and rose petal, made by the late great gelato master Corrado Costanzo. He used only ingredients that were available locally. The flavors burst forth, and the texture, more milky than creamy, served as a context for the main ingredient. I loved those creations, and to me they are what gelato is all about. Is true gelato a thing of the past? Is all gelato now exactly the same as French ice cream? It seems to be going in that direction.
Now, I can’t fault Amorino for not complying with my idea of what gelato should be. Its flavors, the ones we tasted, were fabulous. The banana my sister ordered, that sultry salted caramel, and the lovely vanilla were lush and pure, and everyone in this very busy shop obviously loved them. And honestly I’m such a sucker for style, the flower design alone will have me coming back just to see the various color combinations people order and how they open up in the cone. Still, I must say I still really miss old fashioned Italian gelato.
It looks really elegant. I agree with you, though: give me a good old fashioned cone.
Simona,
Do you believe the original concept of Italian gelato is gone, replaced by the more generic worldwide, but originally French idea of ice cream? To me this seems to be the case.
E