The Remix; Last Licks
Real frozen custard -- creamy, dense and so smooth that premium ice cream seems bland and grainy in comparison -- is almost impossible to taste in New York, even though it rose to fame on the Coney Island boardwalk in the 1920's. But Wisconsin is called the Dairy State for a reason, and anyone visiting Madison must go to Michael's Frozen Custard, where dozens of flavors, from butter pecan to mint chip, are dished out at four locations, old-timey shacks in converted gas stations. Madisonians are partial to the sundaes with hot fudge, caramel and toasted, salted pecans, but purists order the vanilla. Fresh tasting, with the heady, eggy perfume of homemade tapioca pudding, it gets its signature pale yellow hue from egg yolks. Michael Dix, 45, who started the business in 1986 with frozen-custard machines from the 1940's, loves the color so much that he had a bedroom painted to match. Now, on a hot summer day, he serves up to 750 gallons (mail order is available from www.ilovemichaels.com). During a short trip two summers ago, I limited myself to a baby cup the first day. By the second I'd upgraded to a medium, which looked as though it might easily be a full pint. And on the last day of my trip, I disgraced myself by insisting on stopping at Michael's one more time on the way to the airport. I missed my flight.
JESSICA LUSTIG