Okay, as noted before,
I like ice cream, I tend to think of it as basically an entitlement in
certain climatic conditions, and so I pretty much never look at it askance, as someone said of the Parker/Wine Spectator 100-point grading scale for wine, which starts at 50, it gets the first 50 points out of sheer gratitude for not being water. So I've generally declined to say that this or that ice cream place is better than the next, as we found on the south side tasting linked above, every place had its little touches which weren't necessarily comparable to someone else's, and it would be churlish not to be thankful for all of it.
Also, once you start actually getting analytical rather than sentimental about it, there's the problem of butterfat, which it's too easy to use as the thumb on the scale, the way a fancy restaurant can beat a hamburger stand for best burger by simply offering a half-pound of ground steak at six times the price. You'll have noticed in Vital Information's posts on ice cream that he tends to stand up for lower butterfat ice cream that tastes like ice cream used to taste. That's because, well, because nobody else stands up for it these days. But the spread of superpremium ice cream, like Haagen-Dasz or (more recently) that Australian (really Belgian) chain, which clock in at 16% or 18% butterfat, have all skewed our tastes so that a place serving ice cream closer to the legal minimum of 10% doesn't have that rich mouthfeel we associate with fine ice cream and consequently seems lighter, cheaper, less exciting. (
Here's an article from Cook's Illustrated on the Double Rainbow site that talks about a lot of this stuff.)
Well, if butterfat is your only measure, then go ahead and call Godiva's obscenely rich chocolate ice creams from the freezer case at Jewel the best and be done with it; they're just barely enough ice cream to not be candy bars. But I don't think it's only about that; it ought to be about natural flavors, about not tasting like it's full of stabilizers and antifreezes. I want balanced ice cream that not only feels like eating frozen Crisco straight from the can but that also wows me with great fresh flavors. In short, I don't just want to be lulled with fat, like an Outback customer ordering a second blooming onion thinking I'm getting my vegetable for the day; I want ice cream that delivers the kind of fresh flavor jolt any good artisanal foodstuff delivers.
In addition to the fat.
Not that anybody's counting, but a list of ice creams I've had in the last several months would include Haagen-Dasz and the gelato place I liked in Mexico, Mitchell's, Cunis and Gayety on our South Side excursion, Scooter's, Kopp's and Forbush's among custard places,
Anderson's at the Lake County Fair, Homer's at Anthony's Italian Ice, Chocolate Shoppe at multiple locations around the area, Hershey's, house-made strawberry at some strawberry picking place in Maryland or Virginia, gelato at Massa, Blue Bunny at
the Anna Held Flower Shop, ice cream with foie gras at Avenues, Bernard Callebaut ice cream bars, and last but very far from least, MAG's homemade. I'm sure there are others (we
must have eaten more ice cream than just the two on our Cleveland-Pittsburgh-DC trip). Anyway, if I can't remember them all (oh yeah, I went to DQ once too) I trust I have at least established that I've taken ice cream seriously over the last few months, and so when I say that I can name the best ice cream place in the Chicago area, you may not agree but at least you can't dismiss it out of hand.
And that is what I will say in a moment. I had actually eaten there once or twice before, with the kids, who were the reason I got dragged down to this farflung corner of our world; and I had liked it but, I guess I lacked the comparative base listed above and the deep thinking about ice cream that I have now. This time, yesterday, was different, however. I ordered two homemade flavors-- chocolate chip and black walnut, which is better described as maple ice cream with walnut pieces in it. Now, there's no question that this is high butterfat ice cream, but it's something more than that-- the richness melded with bright, fresh flavors to make something that was qualitatively above every other ice cream I could remember tasting in recent times.
Add to that the fact that this is a place that's been around since 1937-- alas, it doesn't have the picture-perfect unchanged-since-it-was-built feeling that, say, Margie's has, but certainly conveys at least an Americana feel that takes you back as you enjoy your cone, and even sits at a rural-seeming corner that still feels like the small town country store it once was. If not the perfect ice cream place, it is a terrific one, and happily seems to have a loyal following, since it's always been packed whenever I've been there.
You will not find it easy to get to; it's in the middle of an obscure suburb you have probably never visited, and probably never would otherwise. But now, I suspect, you will. Or at least, Vital Information and his family will, at long last, because this ice cream place you must visit is:
The Plush Horse
12301 South 86th Avenue
Palos Park, IL 60464
http://www.theplushhorse.com/index.html