A Scoop of Summer - Ice Cream in Paris

It's hot here. The sort of heat that suggests any kind of movement is a bad idea. Last night I sat in the pitch-black kitchen, with the fridge door open. It was not as effective as I would have liked. It was like being interrogated by the faint smell of Melon.

Now then, if we played a word association game, and I said "Summer".. chances are someone would respond "Ice Cream". It is a horse-and-carriage relationship. A friendly rebellion against the sun - saying "OK if you want to shine that hot, I'm going to eat this.."

I vaguely remember a family holiday in Brittany sometime in the 1970s. I have no recollection of the weather, what car we were in, or if the sea was warm, but I do remember something called "Frigécrème". It was a vanilla ice-cream brand that was popular then, before actual flavours were invented. If it were to reappear, no-one would ever buy it. But it stuck in my memory as being just the best thing ever. And that is the magic of ice cream. It also manages to freeze memories.

Unsurprisingly, The French take ice cream rather seriously. Not in an over-the-top, American way, where "awesome" is somehow linked to a bewildering and unnecessary number of flavours, but with real discernement. Like Volvo drivers. They have their brand, and they stick to it. The non-negotiables? Craftsmanship and quality. So where better to go for our Ice Cream road test, than the National capital. Paris. What a hardship...

We sort of set out imagining that we would taste around 30 ice cream outlets and give you the top 30 in order of preference. But instead, at the editors insistance, (and budgetary restrcitions) we are showcasing just the 3 that we loved the most.

1. Berthillon

In Paris, the undisputed institution is Berthillon on the Île Saint-Louis, in Paris' 4th. It has been around since we kicked the Germans out, with daily queues or locals and visitors alike, jostling for a boule or three or their legendary sorbets and ice creams. Everything here is made in house and is free of all artificial additives, sweetners, stabilisers and chemicals. Which might seem odd to our American readers, but let's not go there...

Oh, Berthillon... until you have sampled their Cacao extra-bitter sorbet, you have lived a meek and shallow life. It is spoken about with the kind of reverence usually reserved for a magnificent Bordeaux or fine Burgundy. It is a statement sorbet, and a stroll along the Seine with a Berthillon cone of this in hand may well be one of the great simple pleasures of any Summer eve.

2. Une Glace à Paris

At the other end of the "Since" scale, is a newcomer - imaginatively called "Une Glace à Paris".. I guess that works just fine. It was founded by two chaps called Emmanuel Ryon and Olivier Ménard. The former was World Pastry Champion as well as being voted "best ice cream maker in France" in the early noughties. His pal Olivier, is a French Pastry Chef Emeritus and advises the folks at Harrods on all things sweet and sticky. This place is where ice cream becomes an art form. Their creations defy belief, with Iced Pastries, Norweigian "Omlettes", Vacherins, Parfaits and Nougatines. If you haven't been, it is soooo worth the trip. The excellent news being, that both these Cathedrals of Iced Cream, are a 12 minute walk from each other. I know. I have done it. Both ways. Twice.

3. Bachir

This is the wild card. The mystery treat... Bachir is a Lebanese family business that began in a small mountain village in the Beqaa valley, sometime in the 1930's and has now become an absolute "thing" in Paris. Their philosophy is simple: natural ingredients, traditional methods, and flavours rooted in the flavourful glory of the Levant.

I opted for their signature ice cream, Ashta, which as well as being a smashing girls name, is a traditional sort of Lebanese clotted cream and their finished product is perfumed with orange blossom and rosewater and then rolled in crushed pistachios. Imagine the scent of a recently-watered, Moroccan riad garden at dusk. It is just all roses, orange trees and the hint of toasted nuts. Exactly how I was feeling in the recent heatwave. All wrpped up in a scoop of ice cream, well imagine that...

So that's our top 3. The best ice creams in Paris. Or do you disagree? Then we would love to hear from you...

Pleasure. Perhaps that's what Parisians have such a good understanding around...Pleasure needn't be extravagant. It can be a simple cone eaten on a park bench. A detour down a side street. A pause in the middle of a warm afternoon.

By the way, I once heard a colloquial Italian saying - which translated as "Our age will never diminish the disappointment of a dropped ice cream". And it's so true. It is a tragedy that transcends long trousers and adult responsibility.

So for us, standing in the summer heat of Platform 13, ice cream is never just an ice cream. It is a bit of self-permission to slow down. To enjoy.

Summer, after all, is not measured in days.

It's measured in scoops. Vive la différence.

On Platform 13, wholeness isn’t found - it’s remembered. Because loss is loss, worthiness is universal, and no one is alone. We are all in this together.