Dense, milky gelato from Gelataria 3Bis
Words: Mark Riddaway
Every time the sun comes out, even for a moment, an ice cream van immediately arrives outside my office. What it’s being used for the rest of the time, I have no idea. Possibly making crystal meth. But when the day heats up, there it is, chiming out O Sole Mio.
That sound alone is enough to make my heart beat out its own little Neapolitan standard. It’s a sound that reminds me of school holidays, of water fights, of lingering resentment over not being allowed the blue Screwball with bubblegum at the bottom. It’s a sound that makes me happy. It’s just a pity about the ice cream.
Demands of adulthood
I struggle in many ways with the demands of being a grownup, but one area in which I have most definitely matured is my taste in ice cream. The thought of an airy, insipid Mr Whippy skewered with a stale Flake just doesn’t do it anymore. I don’t even want a Screwball. I want a dense, milky gelato from 3Bis, freshly made just minutes before, packed with the flavours of Italy and Borough Market. Mascarpone and fig, amarena cherry, Piedmontese hazelnut: these are not the things of which Funny Feet are made.
I want all that—but what I’d really like is for it to be delivered to my office at the merest hint of sunshine, accompanied by the clunky jingle of Greensleeves.