How ice cream changed the way I view myself
“I was made to question how food shapes our identity and how what we are exposed to as children has a deep effect on our psyche. I realised that for me, ice cream signifies comfort – each time I indulged in it, I was immediately taken back to the happiest moments of my childhood.”
An unexpected medical diagnosis made Tara Khandelwal reexamine her relationship with food, particularly, ice cream.
Illustration by Aaryama Somayaji
Ever since I was diagnosed with pre-diabetes last year (I am 31), due to hereditary issues and PCOS, I have had to change my identity, my relationship with food, in particular with ice cream. Being half Gujarati, I’d grown up eating food enhanced with sugar. And almost every day, it was a personal ritual to eat ice cream. Ice cream was and is my favourite meal.
I’ve always been stick thin and have liked to exercise. So the diagnosis came as a huge shock to me. I am a self-proclaimed foodie, and a connoisseur of junk food. The thought of the perfectly crispy fry, the way melted cheese pulls apart on pizza, the crunch of caramel popcorn, the light but rich texture of ice cream that dissolves in one’s mouth, makes my cravings go into overdrive.
When we think of body image issues, we don’t count being thin as something people have an issue with. However, I had always been told I was ‘too thin’ or that I am all ‘bones’, or worse – that I should consult a doctor. I remember a friend telling me that guys only like voluptuous women, and I was anything but. I also remember friends piling my plate with cake, convinced that I was depriving myself. No, I wasn’t starving myself, yes, I was sure.
In our culture thin also automatically equals fit – “why are you exercising, you don’t need to”, is a common refrain. So, without knowing any better, I used my body type as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted to. Over time I became that girl- the one who is really thin and eats an entire pizza on her own. On dates guys would be pleasantly surprised that I wasn’t watching my diet. I would be the first to reach for a plate of snacks. My best friend and I often bonded over how much food we always needed.
And of course, the nature of the food is such that we are designed to get addicted, designed to get that dopamine kick, and to need more of that whipped cream or jalebi to satisfy our cravings. The situation had gotten so bad for me, I used to get headaches without my daily dose of sugar.
When I got my blood test, after a bout of irregular periods, I was shocked. How could I be 31 and almost diabetic? Food was an important part of my life.
My relationship with food had to change entirely after my diagnosis. Not only did I have to cut out processed sugar, but I also had to cut down on processed carbs. Overnight I had to transform into a healthy person, not a foodie. Eventually restaurants lost their appeal and Swiggy lost its swag. But I couldn’t bring myself to cut out ice cream. I missed my old carefree self, I didn’t recognise this person who had to actively ‘think’ about food.
But more worryingly, I had to now start dieting. It began with figuring out what I had to cut out and what I had to add. So I took a class on 'sugar' keen to figure out how this commonplace but mysteriously addictive substance works on our brains. And it was here that I finally recognised the patterns and habits of eating that shape our identities. That no matter who we are are, our consumption habits have a psychological history that is difficult to ignore.
In this context I tried to look back on my rather obsessive relationship with ice cream.. For me, ice cream was the dish that made me feel good – it was my go-to dessert, what I fed my dog as a treat (incidentally he also loves it now), my happy place, my dopamine kick. Ice cream picked me up when I felt down, celebrated with me, gave me company when I was bored. It was the one thing to look forward to at the end of a long day.
And when you think about it, my absorption with ice cream is perfectly natural. Ice cream is just a broad definition for the variety this food offers. You can choose from a creamy gelato, to an icy popsicle, to a sweet fruity sorbet. You can make all sorts of concoctions- sundaes, milkshakes and more. And the ways you can indulge in it are just as diverse. Slurp it from a chocolate covered cone, waiting patiently for the cone to mix with the cream, or savour it in tiny bites from a cup, drinking every last bit of it. You can dunk it in milk and coffee or have it with brownies, cakes, fudge, pies, cookies. You can make it crunchy by adding crushed almonds, pralines, even cereal. You can add fruits and enjoy mango with vanilla, strawberry with vanilla during season. You can have it plain or with chocolate sauce, caramel sauce or even whipped cream. In Germany, the most popular dish for children is a concoction called spaghetti ice-cream, where vanilla ice-cream is put through a potato ricer to give it the appearance of spaghetti. Strawberry sauce and white chocolate sprinkles resemble tomato sauce and cheese.
Besides, an endless spectrum of texture awaits you – from sprinkles, to chocolate and coconut flakes to Oreos, gummy bears and raisins. And the flavours! You can mix a salted caramel with a hazelnut and voila! You can even fry it, cracking open the golden hot crust, and watching it flake with the buttery cream inside. There are infinite combinations and permutations to relish an ice cream.
But ice cream is not a Western export to India . Indians have loved this cooling dessert for centuries in preparations that have evolved through history – from the historical kulfi that was invented by the Mughals during the reign of Akbar to the invention of ice-golas like sticky kala khatta during summer – an easy way to consume our favourite lolly, using shaved ice and traditional sherbets – to our very own homegrown ‘Naturals Ice cream’ that started producing sitaphal, masala guava and tender coconut flavours in 1984. Local ice cream parlours have been producing their own versions of this ice cream since the early 1900s, gaining traction post-independence. The famous Nirula’s began as early as 1934. Who can forget its hot chocolate fudge in Delhi, with its specialty chocolate sauce, which is still impossible to replicate and is the utmost indulgence?
In fact it was the nineties that brought ice-cream into the popular narrative. As junk food companies proliferated post liberalisation, we were introduced to not only ice cream but Lays, Uncle Chips, Pizza Hut and Dominos, McDonald’s and more. Snazzy jingles and celebrity advertising, made my generation more than accustomed to these ‘unhealthy delights.’ Besides they were now easier to get than ever.
Homegrown ice cream brands like Vadilal and Havmor that had begun even before independence, and Kwality which began soon after in 1956, were able to now take advantage of better technology and cheaper costs of production - they were marketed as an everyday indulgence for children, in ads that promoted these treats as an after-school ritual.
Growing up, the experience of indulging in junk food was normalized,. I remember having Kwality Walls’ Orange Pops, Cornetto’s and Chocobars after summer swims. And who doesn’t remember Havmor, Vadilal, Mother Dairy as other ultimate treats for kids in the nineties. These brands sprung up everywhere, from India Gate to Khan Market, in cute red carts – and promises of variety in brightly coloured signages and menus. Their accessibility almost made you feel like they were just another street vendor. Names like Mango Dolly, Paddle Pop and Fruttare, and their attractive packaging only added to the appeal for us nineties kids, who still played outside and hadn’t yet been exposed to the Internet or mobile phones.
There were ice creams for different occasions as well. A special treat for kids back then was Baskin Robbins – a ‘fancy ice cream parlour’ experience for children in cities. For me, it was a once-a-week family affair. Every family member had their own special flavour at Baskin from Mint Milk Chocolate Chip and Belgian Chocolate for parties, Bubblegum for kids, Praline for adults, Vanilla for brownies and experimental flavours if you’re feeling adventurous.The best part of this treat? Taste for free before you try.
More recently in the last ten years, as online delivery systems have become popular, artisanal homegrown ice cream brands have mushroomed in the FMCG market. Brands like Bina’s Homemade Ice-cream use Indian flavours like rose water ice-cream and kesar pista. Then there are brands like Cream Choc in Goa and Bono in Mumbai which have elevated the ice-cream experience by introducing quality ingredients and flavours- catering to the premium market. Ironically, brands like Kwality are generally viewed as sub-par when it comes to quality. Discerning consumers are now aware that they aren’t made from milk but from vegetable oil. Did you know the family who runs Kwality and the one who runs Baskin are related? There’s a skill to making ice-cream. And now some of these very people are making ‘healthy ice-cream’.
At the class on sugar, I learnt that you can still eat everything you like— as long as you find a healthy version of it. Over the next few months, I found healthy versions of everything— from Nutella to pasta. I discarded my old favourites and found many new-age ice cream brands that were catering to my consumer profile. They all made promises of ‘no added sugar’ and ‘no compromise on taste.’ We are a ‘healthy ice-cream company,’ many proclaimed. They used words like ‘dairy-free’,’ high protein and low calorie intake’, ‘keto-friendly’, to cater to us nineties kids who had now become cautious millennials. I succumbed to the jargon and tried out brands like Brooklyn Creamery and Noto, which I have to admit tasted fantastic.
But the truth is, these tall promises made by new brands in the ice-cream market are in fact difficult to keep.
After my diagnosis, I continued to order salted caramel and chocolate and whatnot - every day – but I switched to ‘healthy places’ with their bright colours, happy tonality and exclamation marks sprinkled as liberally as chocolate chips. I can still enjoy myself, I thought smugly – and I’m getting protein out of it too. But despite the switch my sugar numbers kept going up.
The mystery resolved itself when I was introduced to a whole new world of false packaging and phoney health food in my class on sugar. I was made to question how food shapes our identity and how what we are exposed to as children has a deep effect on our psyche. I realised that for me ice cream signified comfort – each time I indulged in it I was immediately taken back to the happiest moments of my childhood defined by languid summers, playing with cousins and friends – enjoying an ice cream at the end of the day, without a worry in the world. Early childhood is devoid of responsibility and pressure, and as an entrepreneur, on a tough day I would want to go back to that feeling. During the pandemic, as we got increasingly isolated, it would take me back to my teenage years hanging out IRL in Barista and Café Coffee Day, just like the characters in.American sitcoms that were cable TV staples in the ‘90s.
My switch to new-age brands that promised health had been unsuccessful and examining their labels as I had now been taught to, painted a different picture. I came to understand that ‘no-added sugar’ simply means no white sugar. But sugar is essentially sugar even under any other name. Some of the names these labels use as substitutes are: fruit juice concentrate, cane sugar, coconut sugar, fructose, honey and so on. So while these ‘healthy’ brands do cater to those who are more aware of the pitfalls of sugar, they make a marginal difference if any. Sure they have less fat etc, but it’s still ice cream!
Over time, as I adjusted to the new diet and the new me, the obsession to find healthy alternates with fake ingredients lessened. I was happier with simple food, ‘ghar ka khana’. Every specialist I’d met during that time had said that being healthy is a lifestyle, not a ‘diet’. And that it can’t exist with a narrative of deprivation or false hope. It must exist in a balance.
These days I still order my favourite chocobar or a mint milk chocolate chip from time to time. And you know what? They are always full fat and full sugar.
Tara Khandelwal is the founder and editor of of storytelling company, Bound. Her podcast, Books and Beyond with Bound, is in the top 1.5 percent of global podcasts. Her writing has appeared in CondeNast Traveller, Scroll and more. She is an alumna of Columbia University and lives in Mumbai.