Gelato

I have a list, in my red moleskin journal. An important list, one that guides a part of my life in Rome. A list that perhaps I should be ashamed to admit I keep but am not.

A list of gelato flavors.

Gelato was one of the things everyone kept talking about before I came to Rome. Which flavors were the favorites. The decision to go with cream or without. I even got directions, a map on a scrap of paper from Kylie, a former co-worker, to the best gelato place ever. No street names. Just keep the Trevi on your left until you get to the t-shirt place and turn left. You’ll find it. [I still can’t believe I say things like “turn left after the Trevi” or “if you go past the Colosseum, you’ll see it.”]

For gelato, flavor selection is key. My general rule is to keep creamy flavors and fruity flavors separate. My number one rule, however, is No repeating flavors. The one time I broke this rule was in Florence. As part of our daily Quest, we were required to rate to gelato places: Perche No? and a second one of our choice. I felt that in order to adequately compare the two gelateria I needed to try the same flavor at both. I caved and ordered pistachio, one of my early favorites, at each one. Since then, however, I have not allowed myself to be a flavor repeater.

I have been thinking. I try new gelato flavors nearly every day. Which flavor is my flavor? Which flavor is most me?

I’m not blackberry. Brianna had her personal perfume made in Florence. She used blackberry. Blackberry is her gelato flavor. Blackberry is a sweet flavor, but not overly so, and has a bit of kick to it.

I’m not panna cotta. Panna cotta is Gabrielle. She is sweet and genuine and loyal.

I’m not ginger and cinnamon. The cinnamon is homey and warm, the ginger adds an unexpected spice. I’ve only seen it at one gelateria. Michelle is ginger and cinnamon.

I’m not pistachio. It might be my favorite flavor. It’s the only one I’ve had more than once. I’ve had it three times, to be exact. It is one of those classic gelato flavors. It is one that I tried because I thought I should, not knowing if I would like it, but which shot to the top of my list after the first spoonful. I think pistachio is Junko. It’s subtle, and slightly out of the ordinary. When I asked her about it, she said she was mango. I see that too.

I ask the apartment what gelato flavor I am. It’s funny, but the only two in agreement are Gabrielle and Brianna, who both say pistachio. Junko comes up with an answer the quickest, saying chocolate mint. Megan protests that there are too many flavors before narrowing it first to fruity, then berry. June proclaims me grape chocolate, her reasoning being that I am wearing purple shorts and a brown top. I ask Michelle last. She says rice and cinnamon. We recently discovered this flavor at Alberto Pica, around the corner from the Campo.

These are the flavors other people see in me. Are they different from the ones I see in myself? I suppose I see bits of them all, with the possible exception of grape chocolate. I had actually almost settled on frutti di bosco as my flavor. Rice and cinnamon seems appropriate not only because of the superficial reason that I miss rice, but it’s kind of an unusual combination of flavors. I never would have thought of myself as chocolate mint, but the recurring theme I see is the mixing of flavors.

On my last day in Rome, I plan to unashamedly order a grande gelato. The people in the store and those watching me on the street as I attack a gelato half the size of my head may think what they like. I will select all of my favorite flavors from these five weeks. Maybe then I will know what combination of gelato flavors I am, which complex recipe best describes me. I know that I can’t be summed up in one word, one flavor, one anything.