“We were like, ‘Why aren’t there any great artisan ice creams in New York City? Ms. Dundas said.
Ms Gallivan said there was a “eureka moment” when women began to crave the kind of ice cream that exists in Boston, “where there’s this wonderful ice cream tradition.” In New York, “Tasty was like D-Lite and Baskin-Robbins—nothing worth the calories, as my mom would say.”
Blue Marble’s overarching concept, like that of so many Brooklyn brands, was lofty and vaguely European, featuring “original” flavors sourced from unbeatable organic pedigree and farms above without candy or breakfast cereals. If the flavoring was sacred rather than juvenile, it was not: Ms. Gallivan leverages her expertise in international aid to set up ambitious satellite projects in Haiti and Rwanda, the latter of which continues for 10 years.
And the ice cream was good.
“It’s in the chew,” said fourth-generation ice cream maker Thomas Bookie Jr., whose Rhode Island factory “co-packs” it for Blue Marble and other brands. Good ice cream, he said, “unlike the big ones, has a definite cut, where it’s just air – it doesn’t even melt.”
To get that texture, Mr. Bookie said, “you can spend $20-30,000 a week on milk and cream alone.” He said – emphatically – that there were no shortcuts.
The settlement, however, began as Blue Marble began to have successes in its early years, including partnerships with JetBlue and Facebook.
“It’s really hard not to start compromising in a place like New York, because things are expensive and they eat up your margins,” Ms. Gallivan said. Blue Marble refuses to cut corners, she said, in the belief that “ultimately quality ingredients and the best ice cream will prevail.”
daily business briefing
‘He tried to wipe out everyone else’
The freezer shelves at Whole Foods tell the success story of artisan ice cream, with multiple labels and their recondite flavors revolving around for space. Many pints trace their origins to Brooklyn’s circa 2010, when a slew of contenders for the borough’s most authentic ice cream materialized, from Ample Hills and Milkmaid to Finn & Fabes and Van Leeuwen. Even Steve, an iconic Boston label, tried to reinvent itself as a Brooklyn brand.