Review: That Sabrina Carpenter Ice Cream
Eating the Van Leeuwen “Espresso” Ice Cream
Performed by me
Roughly 10 min. from placing the order to throwing away the cup
Fuck it, time to pivot. With moviegoing as we know it in free fall, we must now turn our critical eye to other forms of in-person #content consumption. Hence, the Sabrina Carpenter Espresso ice cream from Van Leeuwen.
(Author’s note: having never heard any of Sabrina Carpenter’s music, including Espresso, I come into this review completely unbiased and open-minded.)
Van Leeuwen is an overpriced ice cream chain that gets away with charging $8 for a single melty scoop by swearing up and down that its high-fat formulation is the greatest thing you’ll ever shove in your hedonistic widdle maw, piggy, and also you can take totally aesthetic pics of it for your Instagram.
If milk-fat decadence and cultivating the image of sleek trendiness seem at odds to you, you need to know that Van Leeuwen isn’t an ice cream company, not really. Their lack of commitment shows. Technically, their new Espresso flavor is a hard ice cream, but since every single Van Leeuwen location refuses to keep their freezers cold enough, it has the consistency of dining hall soft serve. (Ice chunks optional.)
This thesis-antithesis tension at the heart of Van Leeuwen means they’re more in the business of selling the fantasy of you-as-a-photogenic-ice-cream-enjoyer than selling you actual good ice cream. And as a frightful hobgoblin who really likes actual good ice cream, that’s disappointing.
Being an essentially #branding-based company, Van Leeuwen is game for whatever collaborations and cross-promotions Ben & Jerry’s has deemed too embarrassing, giving us, for example, the Glass Onion tie-in with real carmelized onion. I was doubtful about the Espresso flavor, having intense opinions about coffee ice cream. It’s my litmus test for quality—to execute a batch of Coffee Oreo that doesn’t come out tasting like a nasty liqueur signifies real mastery of the craft.
Rest assured, the Sabrina Carpenter Espresso ice cream does not taste like syrupy coffee concentrate squelched out of a bag. Instead, the brownie batter and chocolate chips explode to the foreground, while an intense sweetness crowds out the rest. There’s no detectable hint of coffee. I don’t know why/how that’s the case, but maybe it originated as a tie-in for Training Season or Eternal Sunshine before those albums flopped down the memory hole, and once it became clear who really had the song of the summer, the marketers crossed their fingers and slapped on the word espresso.
While I’m disappointed, I can still acknowledge the strength of the endeavor’s branding: half-melted at the point-of-sale, it’s certainly short ’n’ sweet. [TK TK DOUBLE CHECK APOSTROPHES BEFORE PUBLISHING FOR REAL!!!] Another slam dunk for the people who sell you ice cream–shaped props for your selfies.
I thought I saw a girl trying to shoplift one of the handsomely liveried Espresso pints from the fridge, but she was just really embarrassed to be taking photos of it in public. She needn’t have been ashamed, for that is the one true purpose of a Van Leeuwen. You don’t—and shouldn’t—go in expecting great ice cream. If you live in Los Angeles, go to McConnell’s; if you live in New York City, go to Ample Hills or Emac & Bolio’s; if you live somewhere else, uh, why?
Next up from Van Leeuwen’s pop-girlie department: Lana Del Rey’s “American Whore” — I hear it tastes like Pepsi Cola and comes served in a limited-edition ash tray.
