Scoop of the year – my time studying at Gelato University

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Ice-cream and sorbet

The Italians take their ice-cream so seriously they have a university and museum dedicated to it. But while lessons were tough, the recipes are straightforward

Coco Khan

Wed 3 May 2017 14.20 BST

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7 years old

It’s 30C outside, or at least it feels like it. The sunshine is beaming through the windows, tinged green and pink from the countryside surrounding the campus. In the warm glow my mind begins to wander, lost in the wall murals – huge closeup images of vanilla swirls topped with fresh orange – when suddenly Giulia, our tutor, is banging a ruler loudly on the desk in front of me. “What is the difference between fructose and glucose on the palate?”

I crumble.

Don’t be fooled by the bubblegum colours or the whimsical names – raspberry rollercoaster, chocolate indulgence – on display, nerves of steel are required here. I’m at Gelato University. Set up in 2003, the campus is tucked away in a quiet suburb of Bologna, Italy. I’m doing a one-day taster, but the university offers a full range of gelato-making programmes, for beginners and advanced professionals. Like all good universities it has a dedicated academic team composed of successful gelatieres (experts in gelato-making) and historians who curate the adjacent Gelato Museum.

We’re in Emilia-Romagna. Regarded as the “stomach of Italy”, this region is home to some of our most popular Italian produce and recipes – from Parma, the eponymous ham and parmesan cheese; from Modena, balsamic vinegar; and there’s Bologna, home of bolognese sauce. Moderna is also home to Massimo Bottura’s Osteria Francescana, which last year was voted the world’s best restaurant. The region has a thriving culture where chefs are in equal measure hosts, artists and guardians of tradition. Food is serious business, and gelato is no exception.

“So, what is gelato and how is it different from ice-cream?” I ask an irritated Giulia. Perhaps not the most insightful question – gelato is, after all, the Italian name for ice-cream – but traditional gelato is quite different. It uses less fat and is churned at a slower rate, creating a more elastic texture that’s slower to melt. Like many other foodie trends, interest in all-natural artisanal gelato is steadily growing.

A tour around the Gelato Museum reveals that the iced treat is quite the cosmopolitan affair. From its roots in the flavoured ice admired by the rulers of Mesopotamia, to the popularity of sorbet in the Ottoman empire’s royal kitchens, gelato has travelled far and wide. In modern times, it was championed in the UK and the US by Italian immigrants attracted to the gelato trade for its low running costs after the modest initial investment in equipment. This story continues – increasing numbers of the university’s graduates have returned to set up shop in their home countries from the Middle East, Asia and Africa.

Yet, to many of its graduates, gelato is more than just a business. Vivienne Li, one of Gelato University’s growing international alumni, is the gelatiere and entrepreneur behind Vivi Dolce, a Beijing-based gelato kitchen and lab. “To me it’s different … I see gelato as an art form, not using a paintbrush, but fruits and plants and anything you can find from nature.” She has perfected a squid ink, blue cheese and sea-salt gelato, and says other popular flavours are lychee with pitaya or saffron. “I was attracted by the unlimited possibility of creation,” she says. “Gelato is still a new concept in China.”

My time at the Gelato University ends with a short stint behind the counter at the campus gelato shop, which has proved popular with the locals. Donning my apron, I get to work creating an orange sorbet – but, bamboozled by the earlier chemistry lesson, I have to rely on my classmate to get me through the task. A good gelato-maker, much like a good pastry-chef, is two parts Willy Wonka and one part scientist. Precision is key, as is understanding compounds. These are two skills I don’t possess; my gelato comes out inedible and I am put to work serving customers.

“You need to make sure that you don’t scoop, you want to almost slice and layer using the cup edge to create a cone,” Giulia tells me. “If it’s not presentable you can’t serve it, you either have to throw it away or eat it.” I leave Gelato University four portions heavier, and although my dreams of professional gelato-making are dashed, my life as a worshipper of the craft has just begun.

Strawberry sorbet, the ancient way

Early versions of gelato were eaten in ancient Roman and Mesopotamian civilisations. If you don’t have an ice-cream maker, try their technique and you’ll have gained bragging rights about the authenticity of your sorbet. All you’ll need is a heavy wooden spoon and a couple of bowls – one large and one medium.

(Serves 6-8)

500g strawberries, cut finely
260g white sugar
240g water
Squeeze of lemon juice
Crushed ice and salt, enough to fill a large bowl

Fill the larger bowl with crushed ice and salt and the medium bowl with the sorbet ingredients.

Place the medium bowl into the large bowl making sure the mixture of salt and ice is in contact with the entire external surface of the medium bowl.

Stir the mix in the medium bowl energetically for 20 minutes until the sorbet is a fine granite. Serve immediately.

Classic strawberry sorbet

For this recipe, you’ll need a blender and an airtight container.

(Serves 6-8)

500g strawberries
260g white sugar
240g water
Squeeze of lemon juice
Cut up the strawberries, sprinkle with the lemon juice and sugar, and let them sit for approximately an hour.

Add water, mix in a blender, then pour the mix into an airtight container and freeze until solid.

In chunks, blend the frozen mix until smooth and freeze again. Serve.

Classic lemon sorbet

(Serves 6-8)

Scoop of the year – my time studying at Gelato University | Ice-cream and sorbet (2024)

Strawberry sorbet, the ancient way

Classic strawberry sorbet

Classic lemon sorbet

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