I Scream For NYC Icy

I am a native of Boston, which boasts the highest consumption of ice cream per capita in the U.S. My favorite Beantown purveyor, Toscanini's in Cambridge, won my affections with their micro-mini sundae, a Dixie-cup-size portion of ice cream topped with intense Callebaut hot fudge and loosely whipped cream. I count the moans I produced as I cleared the cup of its contents among my sincerest expressions of pleasure.

New York City, nearly point for point a better city than Boston, falls short in the ice cream area. I've held this view for some time, but didn't want to quibble. When a place offers so much bounty, why harp on the weak spot? But something apart from hubris and good manners kept my whining at bay: I had a substitute.

NYC ICY, a seasonal East Village Italian ice stand, has for the last two summers filled the void. The apricot ginger icy was soft yet chewy in texture and bore the color of a fair-skinned Barbie doll. The potentially sloppy method of attacking the scoops mouth-first in their collapsible paper cups only enhanced the experience. Return visits offered more thrills; the rotating menu of flavors on the sandwich board made for eye-opening first-time tastes and the anticipated return of old favorites. (Mine were hazelnut chip, pistachio cherry chip, and the unsurpassed apricot ginger.)

By February I was already looking forward to NYC ICY's 2005 season, and so phoned the shop. Last year, a preemptive message notified winter callers of an April 1 reopening. This year: nothing. The phone just rang and rang. April 1 came and went. No signs of life. When I visited the corner of 2nd Street and Avenue B, all I saw was a garbage heap before a shuttered storefront. Gone were the lines formed for scoops of lemon, chocolate pepper, and vanilla malt ices.

"Maybe it's an extended April Fools joke," said one friend. Another, a fellow food writer, mocked my pain: "They closed because they refused to mix their flavors!" I responded in a huff. "Well, they don't do that at Lemon Ice King either, and they're still around."

Seeking closure, I tried unsuccessfully to reach owner Jonathan Leeds. (Does he keep an unlisted number because of fanatics like me?) I grilled neighboring shopkeepers, yielding plenty of speculation-"The landlord is really angry," from the neighbor to the right; "He's reopening somewhere else in Manhattan," from the one across the street-but nothing was conclusive. The one reliable source was NYC ICY's former landlord, Michael Chang. The news was not good.

"I spoke to Jon two weeks ago when he moved everything out to New Jersey. They're opening the business there," said Chang (who, for the record, is not angry). "They couldn't survive with a three-month operation in the summer."

A frank examination of the options left in NYC ICY's wake isn't pretty. The so-called premium shops-Il Laboratorio di Gelato, Cones, Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, Ciao Bella, Chinatown Ice Cream Factory-do one or two flavors exceptionally well (at best), but are overpriced, in many cases too rich, overwhelmingly pretentious or just boring. A fellow Bostonian confided to me that, in this banal ice cream climate, Haagen-Dazs (a chain!) is his fallback. I don't blame him. In a city with a public willing to spend $6 on a jam-packed waffle cone and a market full of successful niche operations (Donut Plant, Dumpling House, Hummus Place, Beard Papa cream puffs), things should be better. It is no wonder that the ladies have turned to vile Tasty Delight for solace. As horrible as it is, there is nothing good enough to lure them away from this lo-cal marriage of convenience.

The summer stretches ahead without a great ice cream or an NYC ICY in sight. What comforts me now is the milky coconut sherbet from the sidewalk Coco Helado carts. It may not be NYC ICY, but they will mix.