Seattle's got its fair share of haute, hip bacon and absinthe ice cream purveyors, chief among them Full Tilt and Molly Moon's. But bizarre as they are, they're pretenders to the throne that San Francisco's ultra-weird Humphry Slocombe currently sits in.
So, Steve, would you like to stock my ice cream in your truck, versus just stalking me?
That parlor, located in the Mission District, is run by Jake Godby, described in a recent New York Times Magazine profile as a pathologically shy former fine dining pastry chef who counts foie gras, curry, red wine, prosciutto and whiskey among his more pedestrian flavors. So popular and pretentious is it that it's already been subjected to Twitter backlash in the form of Jasper Slobrushe, who's launched a feed that parodies the pretentiousness of Godby's creamy creations. A recent Slobrushe tweet: "We're the official ice cream parlor of Twilight. Get your Eclipse sundae today: Caffeine-free coffee ice cream with blue balls." Or: "Our new mustard seaweed flax seed waffle cone goes great with a scoop or two of cumin strawberry 'n' jerky." Even better: "Try a Gwen Stefani shake: shit & bananas. We like to drink them while banging a rock star as our ex-boyfriend watches."
Inspired by the envelope-ripping ingenuity of both Slocombe and Slobrushe, we set out to find the weirdest would-be ice cream flavors in the world, and came up with a list of six that Godby couldn't conjure on his most lucid mescaline trip:
6. Red Dawn (reconstituted ulcer blood, pureed kiwi, and flambeed Adderall). Popularized in the villages of Peru and shipped in ice trucks to major South American cities, this'll fuckin' wake you up. It'd even wake Gregg Allman up.
5. Shake Titicaca (breast milk provided by a young Chloe Sevigny, frozen on the set of Trees Lounge and preserved in an ultra-secure, ultra-huge walk-in freezer in New York City's Meatpacking District, blended with meerkat diarrhea). The recuperative powers of this bowel-churning concoction are known only to a select few loyalists on City Island. But soon, the world.
4. Saturday Night Liver (flakes of John Belushi's corpse's cryogenically frozen liver, sprinkled over an 80-20 blend of pure gorilla adrenaline and sous vide duck liver). After one lick of this lively scoop, you'll be a hundred times more manic and clever. But don't eat too much, lest humor will come at a cost. The price: your beating heart.
3. Peanut Butt-er and Chartreuse (A fleshy millimeter of Beelzebub's bum, diced and frozen into a Chartreuse and monk-hair flavor base and topped with Magic Shell, sauteed in Mohican peanut oil and pinot gris). Churned exclusively by the secretive Cortaidian monks of France's Rhone region, the Magic Shell is meant to symbolize the skull coverage this devout order sacrificed to their god. The wine and Chartreuse are meant to get the cone's consumers blind drunk--on the Holy Spirit.
2. Chocolate Thunder (bottled lightning -- literally -- blended with the sweat of Wesley Snipes after a Total Gym workout, then syringe-infused into salvaged Black Labrador pectoral muscles provided by a remote animal shelter in the Andes Mountains). Two scoops totally eliminate the need for an electric fence to keep your daughter or dog in the yard. With Chocolate Thunder, you become the electric fence. A human electric fence.
1. Superfriendster (vaporized Kryptonite infused into cloned fillet of Gene Hackman testicle, dipped in mango puree and mint jelly, kneeling before Zod). Anyone who misses the late Christopher Reeve need simply go to his grave, have his corpse exhumed, and shovel this, the gift of life, into his decomposing lips, instantly reanimating Robin Williams' best friend.