GOLDEN GAYTIME SANGA

There are certain pleasures that are best enjoyed in the summer. The definition of summer differs in different places and I have been in the UK when people were out sunbathing in temperatures that would not see Australians take off their jumpers. This is a type of localism and the weather does matter for what one eats too. It matters for what we grow in our veggie patch to what is available at farmer’s markets to what our bodies crave whether we sunbathe or whether we stay inside. 

Recently, K. and I have been making our way through a variety of salads, sometimes by themselves, sometimes with a serving of meat on the side. Often these are celebrations of greenness, and today, I made a salad with snow peas, broccoli, Brussels sprout, fennel, red onion, cucumber and cos. It had a lemony dressing with dill, yoghurt, Japanese pickled ginger, a splash of mirin, and a spoon of honey. Salads like this are one way to define summer and we are getting the most out of it given that the days are getting shorter and the nights are cool enough for doonas.

We have been clinging to the warmth though and ice cream has become particularly important lately.  We have been making up for lost time given we had two winters back to back because of moving hemispheres. Recently, we have been eating ice cream like it has been going out of fashion, like kids who have pocket money to spare and no parents to watch them before bedtime. Ice cream is a simple joy that one never gets tired of.

I do, of course, have favourites in every sector of the ice cream sector. When it is homemade I prefer fruit sorbets including watermelon, finger lime and raspberry. From the supermarket, give me Connoisseur from vanilla to chocolate brownie . I would take Connoisseur for value and taste over haughtier, arriviste, pretentious, bourgeois mini buckets like Maggie Beer’s burnt fig. When we are in Perth, we are lucky in having many gelaterias to choose from be that Chicho to Whisk. At Chicho, I inevitably go for something with chocolate bits or toffee or caramel, but at Whisk, I go for matcha soft serve, which is sweet, rich and creamy as you would expect. There is also a hint of smoky bitterness that you get from green tea – a perfect combination that balances in your palate. And, of course, there is ice cream you get at restaurants. The other month I went to Long Chim up in the city, and they had a coconut ice cream as part of one dish in particular. It was a little frosty, but the depth of flavour made up for the texture and one could taste the freshness of the dish as it worked with the other elements.

But for all these places to get ice cream, and for all the pleasure in them, there is nothing I prefer than getting an ice cream at the servo and driving home from the beach with the window down and the warm breeze rushing through your hair. Our car has a good sound system and when the right tune comes on, this becomes a moment of deep contentment, of tarruru, a time to reflect and think of what the day has been like, and what comes next.

I associate servo ice cream with road trips between Perth and down south (Yallingup, Margaret River, Pemberton). It was one of the few times we were allowed our own ice cream. Back then it was a choice between Calypso, Raspberry Split, Choc Wedge, Peter’s Bucket, Hazlenut Roll, Cornetto. They each had their merits and there was always some sort of conversation in our family about what to get. The only ice cream that was off limits was the Bubble O Bill, which my parents forbade on account of too much sugar. It was his nose, which was made of bubblegum, that tipped it over the edge.

This summer I have been drawn to the Golden Gaytime. After their disastrous attempt at selling the cookie crumbs by themselves, I have maintained a little bit of distance. But enough time had elapsed for me to have a dip once again in their cool and happy waters. Tonight, we are coming back from fish and chips with in-laws down by the coast and the servo is lit up, enticing us with cheap neon. The weather is still warm enough for ice cream and K and I talk about our desire for something sweet – we debate the merits of Conoisseur or gelato, but settle on the servo.

I had not tried the Golden Gaytime Sanga before, being stuck on the original, which is simply an ice cream on a stick. The original was first released in 1959 and is a toffee and vanilla ice cream dipped in compound chocolate and crumbed with honeycomb biscuits. In 2015, they announced an ice cream tub to take home; in 2016, they announced a cone in the Cornetto format; and in 2017, they released the ‘sanga’, which is simply an ice cream sandwich. There is also a ‘unicorn’ one that is purple and pink, and a pina colada version, but it is best to avoid commenting on these two, which you can only really find at supermarkets rather than at servos on the way home. So, what did I make of this sandwich, the latest addition to the Golden Gaytime family?

The sanga is in two halves – one is ice cream with biscuit around it and the other is chocolate with their classic crumb that looks like panko. It is sweet and the biscuit gives in a little quickly – it is too soft for my liking. The chocolate on the other side is thin and it does not crack the way better ice creams of this kind do. I cannot say which half I prefer, but it is superior to any other sandwich ice cream out there. It might be worth pausing on whether ice cream sandwiches that are not made fresh are the best choice out of the freezer. I like how cones go soft and the fruit sorbets often hold their shape. But the sandwich is often caught in between, neither here nor there. This one fails to reach the heights of the original Gaytime even though the heavier crumb is something to like. As a moment though, as a freeze frame that captures the essentials of summer, it matters, it transcends its simpleness as a food to become part of a memory that resonates with the body, and that might be all you can really ask for at $4.25 at this time of night.