Italian Summer Sweets

Having finally grown out of the childhood stage of grubby fingers in packs of candy and popsicles, I have come to hate the sticky sensation of eating sweets that clings to my hands and transfers to any surface I brush in the slightest. Even after eating the finest of desserts. But today? Today was different.

It's worth the mess. I thought to myself, as I felt the cold trickle of the sugary lemon-flavored substance trail its way down my hand and splash to the dark cobbled street beneath my sandals.

I'm sure you could trace my path back a mile from the little trail of droplets I left behind me. And there was an uncomfortable stickiness between my fingers as I clasped the cup tighter in my hands, only forcing more of the quickly-melting desert over the brim and onto my purse, my shirt, my pants, and of course the street. I slurped the melted puddle from the cup like a child tips the last drops of milk from their cereal bowl as they rush for the bus to school.

Perhaps it is cliché to call ice cream the greatest summer food. The finest hot weather creation to be consumed. But I had come a long way for this treat. A flight from the USA to Denmark, a train from Denmark to Germany, and finally another train journey from Germany to Venice, Italy (though admittedly there were several weeks of European exploration in between). But this was not just ice cream, no, no. It was something far more complex and rich and satisfying. Italian Gelato, dripping all over myself and the streets of Venice. Somehow my companions, two friends from high school I had not seen for some time, remained relatively clean. We posed that perhaps it was our flavor choices or that I ran warmer than the others. In the end, mess or no mess, we ended up exceptionally happy with the cold bliss we ate from either cone or cup, and it made me think back to when I had first tried Gelato.

Three years ago, in the summer of 2019, immediately after my graduation, some friends and I had taken a trip to Italy, seeing some of the most famous cities. Rome, Florence, Venice, all being seen for the first time by all but one of us. It was she who introduced us to the glory of a cold scoop of gelato on a hot Italian summer day. By the end of our trip, we were stuffed to the top with an assortment of pizzas and pastas, wines and spritzes. And of course, most delightfully, our weights worth of gelato.

Through experience and the tips of tour guides, we had learned the rules to finding the best gelato. I must admit I have forgotten most, but I do know that bright colors and gelato that is piled high, indicates additives and thickeners to avoid. But even the worst of the gelato could beat the best ice-cream chains in the US.

Back in the present, I had only one and a half short days of time in Venice to consume as much of this divine Italian masterpiece as my stomach could possibly contain. And believe me, I did. As often as I could, in an array of flavors. Chocolate, hazelnut, chocolate-hazelnut, lemon, peach, coffee, one scoop sometimes but usually two. All for me, never to share. I'm greedy that way. But who can blame me? If you tried for yourself, I'm sure you'd feel the same. You'd know that gelato is the finest summer food to grace this earth. You'd know that, by George…

It's worth the mess.