The custard had nothing of the texture of the day before’s binge: it was airy, and subtly grainy, rather than liquid-smooth and rich. You just can’t make these teethmarks on the other chains’ custards I tried After one taste, however, the slacker ethos went underneath a harsher light. No more romance to its name - it was not peppermint, or mint chip. The sole flavor of the day, for example, was mint, and it was written in thin marker on posterboard placed before a front window. I’d at first thought the place’s humble exterior and scribbled-by-hand signage to be charmingly simplistic. So when I walked into the one-shop frozen custard and you-name-it greasy food spot, LeDuc’s, I expected nothing less. The taste of Kopp’s frozen custard had stayed with me all night it was neither too dense nor too light, a texture to obsess over. The next day, I headed out for some fresh blood. The interior of LeDuc’s Frozen Custard standĪ double-scoop of mint and chocolate frozen custard at LeDuc’s I shied away toward the exit and backed out the door, holding my malt and burger bag hostage. By my last bite of cone, I knew I was dealing with something seriously deep-rooted and religious here. The chocolate malt flavor in the bottom scoop was equally appealing, though less showy. Here, the flavor was mild, and obstructed in the most delightful way with the actual pecans. I’m usually wary of the flavor butter pecan for ice cream, because short of studding it with the nuts, there’s no way to get the flavor of buttery caramel-coated pecans steeped into the cream. (You know when you make a lick for a hard scoop of ice cream, and don’t lap much up? This would never happen here.) Its texture was complemented by whole - not chopped - pecans that were perfectly roasted and very lightly salted, and they were supernaturally crisp for being submerged in the creaminess. Dribbling just a little onto the cone in the few seconds in which it had been passed to me, the custard was silken and soft in the most lickable way. It was a new sensation, like the rest of the place. The industrial interior of Kopp’s Frozen CustardĪ photo of the chain’s late matriarch is framed front and center Had them both as a two-scoop on a waffle cone. The flavors of the day when I arrived at Kopp’s were butter pecan and chocolate malt. The daily specials are displayed prominently on signage indoor and out, there’s a “flavor forecast” for the upcoming days on an overhead menu, and there’s even a site called Custardlist, which compiles the daily flavors at many frozen custard places in the area. The chain produces two flavors of the day, in addition to their everyday staples, chocolate and vanilla. But let’s focus on the frozen custard for now. While the signs outdoors promised only custard and burgers, a full-fledged menu of fast-food sandwiches, sundaes and sides was available. One step inside proved there existed a new order of fast food for me: everything was immaculately clean, from the brushed stainless steel counters and custard-spewing nozzles to the crisp white aprons draped across the staff’s adorably oldschool soda fountain-style uniforms. I didn’t have the time nor the tenacity to try everything, but I did know that a stop at Kopp’s Greenfield location was not to be missed. There are also numerous freestanding mom-and-pop custard and burger shops, as a drive through rural parts can evidence. The most well-known of a small handful of regional chains of its kind, it was the only one I’d caught wind of in NYC. The first stop was at Kopp’s Frozen Custard. I’ll think about the health repercussions of that theory if I happen to be traveling in the Midwest again very soon. So while taking a sojourn outside of Milwaukee this holiday week (my first time in the Midwest), I ate lots and lots of frozen custard, washed down with malt shakes and local beers. There is no greater failure for the food-obsessed than to refuse some regional specialty, whatever it may be. I’m a strong believer in eating whatever’s plentiful when traveling in unfamiliar territory. And I’m not at home, haven’t been for a week - I’m in the frozen custard capital of the world. In my estimation, there is little difference between (very rich) ice cream and frozen custard, except that frozen custard is not designed to be, and is therefore not typically, made at home. The entry states, “Frozen custard is usually prepared fresh at the place of sale, rather than stored.” They both can be served by the scoop, or in soft-serve form. Wikipedia attributes it to a higher temperature than ice cream when served also, its production to a fast-freezing barrel that churns out the product more quickly than traditional ice cream makers. Frozen custard, like its less-cold forebear, engages egg yolks in the emulsion, but so does rich ice creams. Ice cream versus frozen custard: the parameters are loose.
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