Shaved Ice: The Harbinger of Summer

On Netflix, there is a dessert-centric Japanese drama titled Kantaro: The Sweet Tooth Salaryman. Based on a manga, Kantaro-san is, on the outside, a consummate professional – polite, timely, and extremely controlled in his movements. From the ceremonial exchange of business cards with clients to his facial expressions, Kantaro-san never shows his figurative hand. Little does everyone in his publishing company know, however, that he’s a masochist for anything sweet. He’s efficient and timely because his mind is always honed on the next sweet treat. The work is secondary. Dessert is everything.

While the most popular sweet cold treat in the Western side of the world is most likely ice cream, Asian countries have elaborate shaved ice desserts. Episode 2 of Kantaro: The Sweet Tooth Salaryman is dedicated entirely to kakigori or Japanese shaved ice. Kantaro-san, being the masochist that he is, wears thermal long johns under his suit, reveling in the pools of sweat streaming down his body in near 100-degree Fahrenheit heat before he heads to the kakigori shop to eat not just one, but two kakigoris.

The melon kakigori (made of ice left at room temperature to improve the taste and texture) is drenched in a puree of fresh melon and topped with melon jelly as well as balled out scoops of premium Japanese melon. The first bite fills Kantaro-san with an ecstatic OH! as the heat melts away to delicious sweetness. Not satisfied with one, he gets the salted caramel kakigori as well and fulfills his singular desire for shaved ice at the apex of summer.

In Korea, bingsoo dessert cafes have lines out the door when the yearly monsoon passes, and the mornings begin at 80 degrees Fahrenheit. One dreams of -- no craves crunchy ice flakes soaked in milk or condensed milk topped with bouncy jellies, sweet red bean paste, and chewy mini rice cakes.

If regular bingsoo isn’t calling you, try the fruit bingsoos. My personal recommendation is mango. Imagine it: a mound of beautifully clear ice flakes with perfect drips of thick condensed milk coming down the sides. Glistening yellow slices of mango cover the top third of the bingsoo, and the peak is topped with milk shaved ice for that extra nutty sweetness. These days bingsoos are big enough to share, but who wants to share?

When I moved to the United States and had my first encounter with the ice cream truck, I was delighted to see that Americans ate shaved ice too. When I ordered a cherry shaved ice, I was shocked by the small paper cone of drippy ice and the artificial syrup that dribbled down my wrist after five minutes, making me look like I cut my hand. I took three bites and threw the rest away. I converted to ice cream and never had American shaved ice again. I assimilated and forgot about the cool satisfaction that bingsoo could bring in the summer.

I was lucky enough to be offered a job in Seoul after finishing my education. Walking around Gangnam station, I was disorientated by the pseudo familiarity of everything. I could read the signs, I could understand the people around me, but I had absolutely no idea where I was or what to do after work. It was muggy late June, and heat radiated from the wide concrete sidewalks.

I walked into a café to catch my breath and was about to order an iced coffee when I saw the overhead menu display. A picture of a perfectly shaped bingsoo stared back at me. I had an Anton Ego moment from Ratatouille when Ego took a bite of Remy’s ratatouille. I ordered a strawberry bingsoo (I hadn’t tried mango bingsoo yet), told them firmly I only needed one spoon, and ate the whole thing in ten minutes in silence when it arrived at my table.

I had bingsoo multiple times every summer I lived in Seoul. When it got too hot, I often replaced it for my dinner. I’m not in Seoul anymore, but we bought a bingsoo machine, and it’s officially summer again.