New Orleans Ice Cream Co. Peach Melba

October skies bring with them great things. From the smell of smoking meat at a tailgate before a college football game, to hayrides and corn mazes and the Halloween decorating blitz, the quintessence of fall is one of my favorite times of the year.

The only unfortunate aspect of this time is the passing of the summer produce that delights our taste buds each year. Like falling leaves in early October, the watermelons and blueberries, raspberries and peaches all fall away as the temperature drops. And while I love apples and pumpkin, I take the loss of the peaches quite hard.

Earlier in the summer I took a gander at Turkey Hill’s Limited Edition Peaches and Cream ice cream and thought it was comparatively average. Since then, my prefered way of peach eating has been in a classic summer salad with basil and mozzarella, but when New Orleans Ice Cream Co. shipped a pint of their Peach Melba ice cream a few weeks ago, I knew I’d get one final chance to taste the South’s most sumptuous fruit in one of its classic forms.

I’ve never had the classic peach melba combination before, but I have enjoyed the flavors of peach and raspberry (although, it should be said, not combined in cereal form.) New Orleans Ice Cream adds toasted almonds to complete the pint, an altogether odd choice, if you ask me. I wish they would have added pound cake (more on this later.)

 The first spoonful starts out on a high note. It’s a creamy and smooth ice cream base, super premium but with the kind of dairy-cream freshness and bright vanilla flavor which gives an impression of lightness. The vanilla bean flavor is far from ordinary, and I find myself admiring the slowly melting cream and vanilla bean specks on my tongue. There’s an enjoyable, almost whimsical raspberry swirl which mixes with the fresh cream taste in the kind of way that makes those miniature sundae cups all the rage at elementary school birthday parties, and comes in with enough frequency and impact to lend sweetness and a bit of textural contrast to each lick. Combined with the soft ice cream and chewy, thick peach slices, each bite tastes of the classic flavors of ambrosia. There’s no whipped cream involved, but it sure tastes like it, and given those three elements, I’m inclined to proclaim it as one of the best peach ice cream’s I’ve ever had.

However, as was the case with Mississippi Debris, this flavor goes one mix in too far. In this case I’m pointing the finger at the “toasted” almonds, which, while buttery, have an odd and flimsy chew and lack real roasted flavor. There are too many of them, and combined with the already prominent peach and raspberry swirl, they detract from the vanilla base and break up the overall creamy aspects of the ice cream. I wouldn’t go so far to say I disliked the almonds, but I certainly would have loved the Peach Melba flavor a lot more without them.

The perfect peach ice cream is restrained, simple, yet ethereal –  a classic mixture of cream and juicy peaches, honoring the kind of fruit with enough complexity to make a perfect dessert in its own right. New Orleans Ice Cream Co. comes close to making the perfect peach ice cream, but comes up a little short by trying to improve on something which is, buy its nature, is perfectly and naturally delicious as God made it.

Rating: 8.5/10

Other Reviews: The Ice Cream Informant

Mississippi Debris Debris Ice Cream

Sometimes, when your football teams get crushed, the only way to try to pick yourself back up is to take a stroll to the freezer and devour a pint of ice cream. Any flavor works, but chocolate, chalk full of all those mood-boosting chemicals and whatnot, works best. And thanks to some free samples from New Orleans Ice Cream Company, I had just the remedy sitting in my freezer for Utah State’s Special Teams woes. I give you, Mississippi  Debris…

Our rich Chocolate Ice Cream is chock full of Fudge Brownie pieces, Chocolate Flakes, Truffles, Malt Balls, Chocolate Almonds, Cherry Liquor Cups and Marshmallow. A Fudge Swirl completes this

Obviously, there’s a lot going on with this ice cream — too much, to tell you the truth. And just like excessive backfield motion can confuse your own offense, the excessive elements of chocolate gluttony in this flavor detract from what otherwise sounds like the most desirable ice cream any chocoholic could ask for. But let’s start with the positives. The fudge swirl is certainly very good. It’s smooth, dark, and rich, with a flavor and texture that exceeds the fudge ribbons most large-scale ice cream manufacturers can produce. There are also nice elements of crunch in there, including the chocolate rich chip pieces. The melt-in-your mouth, sumptuous chocolate ganache flavor is like an extra present from Santa for those who’ve long suffered with sub-par ”chocolate flavored chips” some ice cream makers load up on, and will no doubt appease those truly trained in the “dark arts.”

That being said, I think an ice cream “every man” — and not, you know, the food blogger “type” — will be a little let down by this flavor. The marshmallow bits are extraneous and too prominent. I would have prefered a melted marshmallow swirl or none at all, but the chewed flakes only take up space and detract from the chocolate assault. The ice cream base, while good, doesn’t wow me. It seems to melt too easily, and doesn’t hold the ultra-premium quality I’d typically associate with small batch products. A single, random scoopfull is unlikely to turn up a definitive tastes of buttery almonds or chocolate malted crunch, and despite the claiming Cherry Liquor Cups, I failed to detect much in the way of fruit notes.

It’s a good ice cream, but is it something I’d pay to have shipped? No way. With so much going on it just doesn’t deliver a truely satiating flavor and texture, and unless you’re the kind who eats, sleeps, and dreams chocolate ice cream, it’s probably overkill for a treat. Knowing my own tastes, I think I’d be just as content with a pint from Turkey Hill, or, better yet, a reliable kicking game in the Fourth Quarter.

Turkey Hill Praline Pecan Paradise and South of the Border Ice Creams

There are a few circumstances in life which will cause me to buy a product I’ve never tried. One, obviously, is something new. I’ve jumped on more new product bandwagons than college football upstarts in my day, and just like my short-lived days as a BYU fan, so my interest on the latest Oreo or Doritos variety of the month has come and gone.

There’s another reason I may choose to buy a product without thinking twice. The dreaded “Discontinued!” sign.

We’ve all been there in the grocery store. Whether it’s the changing of the seasons or just that inevitable “time,” products marked with the vastly discounted price announcing their impending doom stand out to the curious eater like a Jeremy Lin in the NBA fan. Once more, they make us consider the merits of the item. Was it really so bad? Maybe people just didn’t give it a chance? I mean, it’s looks interesting…

These thoughts, and a sweet tooth, were foremost on my mind when I was at Weis the other day and saw two Pint containers of Turkey Hill’s Stuff’d Ice Cream. As I’ve explained before, I tend to be fairly conservative in my ice cream choices, but the allure of the Fried Ice Cream and Praline Pecan Paradise was to strong to pass up. That, or I felt like doing Paula Deen a favor by buying something laying claim to Fried and Pecans. 

The Fried Ice Cream is clearly a take on the Mexican specialty, offering “cinnamon ice cream swirled with cinnamon sopilla and sweet tostada pieces.” Considering the extent of my Latino dessert experience is limited to the Churros I once bought from the elementary school snack line, I may not be the definitive authority, but I must say this was the epitome of a fiesta in my mouth.  The flavor and aroma of the cinnamon is certainly strong, and the slight graininess of cinnamon-sugar specs that flavor each mouthful reminds me of a fried graham cracker. There’s a definite churro vibe, but it’s bolstered by an amazing, almost apple-pie like quality. The tostada pieces are a little tough to recognize at first, but they show up as a kind of churro-flavored cookie dough mix in. My only complaint in the mouthfeel of the base, which isn’t quite as creamy as I’d like.

If South of the Border is a fiesta in my mouth than Praline Pecan Paradise is a cross between the country music song The South Will Never Let you Down and John Milton’s epic poem Paradise Found. With the exception of the most excellent Whoopie Pie flavor, I can’t recall enjoying a Turkey Hill ice cream this much. Some ice creams don’t deliver on mix ins but as you can see from the photo the caramel swirl and pecans are aplenty, and they both show up in full force in tasting. The ice cream itself scoops easily and has an exceptionally creamy mouthfeel for a light ice cream, while the caramel swirl is thick, sweet, and slightly smokey. With an almost fudge-like quality to it the swirl gives ways to toasted flavor of pecan pieces, which themselves have a light and oily crunch supported by a sweet glaze. The best part of it all? Like the South of the Border flavor, eating a 4-serving, 120 calories per serving Pint is actually a really sensible lunch.

Frankly, eating these ice creams makes me angry. Angry that, by some overlooked aspect of American ice cream consumption, their doomed to be taken off shelves FOR-EV-ER. I understand everyone wants to run with the cool kids and buy Ben and Jerry’s, but at the risk of not clogging my arteries with super premium ice cream and not destroying my bank account, I think I’ll stick with Turkey Hill. Or at least as long as my grocery store still has these on clearance.

By the way, anyone else noticed any discontinued signs around their local grocery stores that have got you testing the waters or filling up the pantry?

Pecan Praline Paradise (Nutrition Info)

•  Price: $1.25 (Weis)
• Ranking: 9/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 90% (until supply runs out)

South of the Border

• Price: $1.25 (Weis)
• Ranking: 8/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 75%