Follow the Ice Cream: Chinatown Edition

because what's better than Asian flavors x dessert?

Manhattan’s Chinatown might be most famous for its savory food items—think dim sum, hand-pulled noodles, and the iconic if misleadingly named pineapple pork buns, whose attractive cross-sections have made them the darling of many an Instagram foodie—but the sweets don’t pull any punches, either. Today’s post will cover my take on three mainstays of the Chinatown frozen dessert scene: Chinatown Ice Cream Factory, Taiyaki NYC, and Soft Swerve.

Chinatown Ice Cream Factory

Founded in 1978, this family-run scoop shop has established itself as a top destination for Asian-influenced ice cream flavors. Don’t walk here, sprint, as I did five years ago in an attempt to beat the 10pm closing time (for context: it was 9:55pm and Apple Maps told me I was a few minutes away from its Bayard St location). Still catching my breath, I ordered the green tea and Thai iced tea ice cream in a matcha waffle cone—and it was all worth it. Well aware that the romance of this memory from my college days (oh, how time flies…) might have biased me just a little, I decided to give it another go. This time, I tried the don tot and taro flavors in a medium cup.

Front: don tot (egg custard); back: taro

In an age where muted palettes, bite-sized portions, and minimalistic interiors are fashionable, Chinatown Ice Cream Factory is decidedly un-hip. A yellow flag heralds its presence on the busy, paper lantern-adorned street, and above the store entrance a neon sign glows brightly; even its ice cream is startlingly vivid in appearance. The day’s flavor offerings are written in colorful marker on whiteboards; in a playful but also gently-subversive inversion of expectations, flavors that would be familiar to most Americans, such as vanilla and chocolate chip, are labeled “Exotics,” while their core Asian-influenced flavors—black sesame, panda, lychee—are labeled “Regulars.” Merch bearing the trademark dragon mascot is stacked neatly on shelves. There’s no wasted space in the interior, which lacks a seating area and is large enough only for the line of people, which is often long but always fast-moving due to the efficiency of the scoopers.

While the ice cream is pricey (around $7 for 1 scoop, $10 for 2 scoops, over $13 for 3—note that they only accept cash or Venmo), the scoops are generous and the ice cream texture is satisfyingly dense. In my opinion, the mark of good ice cream is a taffy-like consistency, and Chinatown Ice Cream Factory meets that mark. Taste-wise, the flavors are full-bodied and creamy, but they don't feel too heavy despite their richness. I do think the taro ice cream would be better if it contained real chunks of taro, but the Don Tot struck the right note and tasted eggy but not overpoweringly so. I would come back here, especially to try the ginger and durian flavors.

Taiyaki NYC

You’ve seen them before—the eminently photogenic fish-shaped ice cream cones. At one point, Taiyaki doubled down on the aquatic theme with a limited-edition taro slush nested in a mini unicorn pool float. If you thought that was a whole lot of words for not a lot of content, you would be right. Taiyaki achieves something similar, I think, through its heaps of toppings and pleasing presentation, although whether or not that’s intentional is up for debate.

Base: matcha; toppings: rainbow sprinkles; cone: Taiyaki cone with red bean filling

Base: strawberry and vanilla swirl; toppings: unicorn sprinkles; cone: matcha waffle cone

This is somewhat of a lukewarm take, but despite its mouthwatering appearance, Taiyaki disappoints. The matcha taiyaki lacked the earthy, slightly bitter tones you expect from ice cream made with high-quality matcha; indeed, I couldn’t taste much of anything. The strawberry and vanilla swirl was more inoffensive, if a bit bland, but I couldn’t really get past the watery consistency. The one redeeming quality is the taiyaki cone itself, which has a crisp exterior and a fluffy, pancake-y interior. I don’t regret visiting just to see what all the hype was about, but I wouldn’t return unless a particularly insistent out-of-town friend wanted to check it out.

Soft Swerve

Last but not least, Soft Swerve specializes in soft serve, as its name suggests. Like Taiyaki and Chinatown Ice Cream Factory, the signature flavors are Asian-influenced, but Soft Swerve marries the visual appeal of the former and the culinary rigor of the latter. Don’t be fooled by the bright hues and picture-perfect swirls—this shop takes itself seriously. My cousin and I shared the Woodside, a sundae consisting of ube soft serve, toasted coconut, and a ring of mochi, as well as an ube and hojicha swirl.

The Woodside

Ube and hojicha

I liked the restraint of the Woodside; there’s something in the old adage “less is more,” and in this case the carefully-curated toppings contributed to a cleaner flavor profile. The toasted coconut shavings accentuated the flavor of the ube, which already has coconut undertones; I found that pairing pretty clever.

As for the swirl—at the risk of repeating myself, the ube soft serve was on point, bearing the slightly sweet, nutty taste that is characteristic of the purple root vegetable. Sadly, the hojicha (roasted green tea) soft serve wasn’t as bold or toasty as I wanted it to be. However, both soft serve flavors were creamy and velvety-smooth, and the portions were generous. All in all, I left satisfied.

That's a wrap on my Chinatown ice cream review—see you all next week.