Cherry Vanilla
Vanilla flavored ice cream with Maraschino cherries
Date Tried - April 10, 2023
Location - Head of the kitchen table, seated
Format - Half Gallon
Milkshake It? - Yes
Buy Again? - No
Shadows are irresistibly disappointing.
Remember Plato’s Allegory of the Cave? The one where imagined people are chained up in a cave and forced to view nothing but shadows cast onto the wall? The one where those same people later discover that there is a world outside of the cave? The “philosopher” of the group revels in this newfound knowledge, but his fellow inmates prefer to stay with the cave shadows, prefer to stay with the life they have always known. My high school Humanities teacher taught us about this tale by way of the red pill/blue pill scene from The Matrix.
Reader…I’d recommend strapping in.
Because today’s newsletter is going to be both unique and sizable. I’ve decided to formally split it into two parts because, in order to adequately approach the topic of Cherry Vanilla…
…we need to first learn some things about the Maraschino cherry.
Part I: The History
While Marasca cherries have been successfully cultivated in northern Italy, Slovenia, Hungary and Bosnia & Herzegovina, they hail most famously from coastal Croatia. And specifically, they are historically tied to the city of Zadar, the oldest continuously inhabited city in the country. They are more bitter than common cherries, and, early on, people discovered that their dried pulp is ideal for cherry liqueur production.
In 1759, a Venetian merchant named Francesco Driolo began producing Maraschino liquor on a mass scale in Zadar, which was part of the Venetian Republic at the time. His drink quickly gained widespread notoriety and, by the mid-1800s, several more factories popped up, forming a full fledged Maraschino industry in the city. The drink’s notoriety was such that, at its height, British warships were responsible for picking up shipments of Maraschino liqueur for the British royalty.
[Side note: Lisa and I visited Zadar in 2013. It is a lovely, medium-sized city. At the time, I had no knowledge of its Marasca cherry heritage, but I wish that I had. Instead, we marveled at the Sea Organ.]
Maraschino’s quick rise to glory resulted in a significant global effort to counterfit the drink. Driolo’s original company was plagued with legal battles which continued even after it closed permanently in 1980. Their product was sold in a rectangular green bottle with glass that was originally supplied by the Venetian glass factories of Murano. A now-iconic straw cover called a “fiasco” was placed over the bottle as an homage to traditional Venetian shipping methods. Today, you’re likely to see this aesthetic mirrored in the Luxardo bottles, a company that owns the largest cherry orchard in the European Union, complete with 22,000 Marasca trees.
At the end of World War II, Zadar and its surrounding regions were thrown under the control of Tito, a communist revolutionary whose rule defined much of the early history of Yugoslavia. Due to the political turmoil, all Maraschino production relocated from Zadar to northern Italy, an unforeseen factor that likely hurt its growth trajectory. Traditional Maraschino liqueur is still produced today, but—at least in the United States—it is far more of a novelty product than it was during its heyday.
So, then, what about the Maraschino cherry?
It is a product that lives independently from its namesake liqueur and has its own tart history.
Maraschino cherries should be Marasca cherries soaked in Maraschino liqueur—which is, of course, made from more Marascas. But walk to the Maraschino aisle of your local grocery store today and this is not what you’ll find. Instead, you’ll probably find a mix of light-colored, sweet cherries (such as the Royal Ann, Rainier, or Gold varieties) swimming in a non-alcoholic red syrup.
You know these cherries—these inorganic-looking orbs which have been bleached and dyed. Most notably, they are an integral part of the American institution of the ice cream sundae.
They are what you picture when people talk about putting the proverbial "cherry on top."
They are also a widely lauded cocktail flourish. Given the boozy nature of their genesis, this was one of their earliest applications. However, when Prohibition was codified in 1919, the Maraschino cherry’s popularity sank drastically. Eventually, Ernest H. Wiegand—a professor of horticulture at Oregon State University (Go, Beavs!)—developed a method of manufacturing Maraschino cherries with a brine instead of alcohol.
Allegedly, his research had nothing to do with Prohibition and the national alcohol debate; he was simply looking for a non-alcoholic way to process Maraschino cherries that wouldn’t soften them. So he wasn’t the first to do this, but he was the most successful. And whether he intended it or not, his work obliterated what was left of the ties that Maraschino cherries had to their Dalmatian roots.
As far as the public consciousness was concerned, the ol’ U.S. of A found a way to replicate the original Maraschino cherry out of existence.
And this is why they have the reputation that they do—this is why people associate the word “Maraschino” with that strange, chemical syrup flavoring.
Because when we eat today’s Maraschino cherries…we are NOT eating Maraschino cherries.
We are chained to the wall of the cave, accepting the shadows as our reality.
Accepting that it’s the best we will get.
Part II: The Review
We tried Cherry Vanilla on April 10th, the same day that we returned to Keene after a visit to Portland, Oregon. It’s always a trying journey to the North Country when planes are involved, but this time our flight out of Portland was unexpectedly grounded in Denver due to a violent passenger near the front of the aircraft. We made it to Atlanta that night but missed our flight to Albany and were awarded two free hotel/meal vouchers.
Say what you will about the degradation of air travel, but this experience was fairly painless for me and resulted in free pizza, so I quickly shrugged it off.
I’d been interested in Cherry Vanilla for awhile—I wanted to know if it was a wrongfully ignored member of the Vanilla family or something else entirely. When we finally rolled into Keene, there was little question as to whether or not we would be stopping for a half gallon. Cherry Vanilla happened to be a Flavor of the Week, so that was that.
Like Chocolate Chip or Raspberry Fudge Torte Frozen Yogurt, Cherry Vanilla’s appearance is radically different than what is depicted on the container (and in the photo above.) The photo makes it look like pure Vanilla ice cream with Maraschino cherry chunks speckled throughout, but in reality the base has been stained pink which, to me, is not a problem.
But expectations mean something and it deserves to be noted.
[Many months ago, our friend Alec Missel said that I should be taking my own photos for this challenge, a suggestion which I carelessly tossed aside. Six months in, I think it’s time to admit that he was probably right.]
The Maraschino cherries at play here—which are referred to as such in the description but are simply called “Red Cherries” in the ingredient list—consist of cherries (type undisclosed), high fructose corn syrup, cane sugar syrup, carrageenan, locust bean gum, xanthan gum, natural flavors, citric acid & FD&C red #40. It’s a far cry from the simplicity of a Marasca cherry soaked in its own Maraschino liqueur counterpart. And, as detailed above in Part I, it shows.
As for the ice cream, the base is actually pretty pleasant. The presence of vanilla mellows out the sweet cherry syrups in a way that renders them more tolerable. But the problem lies in the moment that you encounter one of the Maraschino hunks; they are too fake, too sweet, too big. Too much. There’s an argument to be made that Cherry Vanilla could be a great starting point for a boozy milkshake. But I’d sooner reach for Black Sweet Cherry, a flavor that impressed me far more in the grand scheme of things.
On April 15th—just five days after trying this flavor—we attended a performance of Michael Galligan’s solo clown show “Banana Man”. Among other themes, it was an exploration of the very real, very sad history of two banana culitvars: the Gros Michel (aka “Big Mike”) & the Cavendish. The former was a thicker, lusher fruit—the banana that adorned tables worldwide until it was largely wiped out by Panama disease. It was replaced with the heartier, and objectively less delicious, Cavendish.
I can’t help but see the parallels between the Maraschino cherry and the Gros Michel. They are two products that—for slightly different reasons—have been replaced by a lesser version of itself. After years of merely adequate banana consumption, imagine what a thrill it would be to try the Gros Michel?
Would it be like seeing a mammoth in Siberia? Or like watching Beethoven perform in the flesh?
Fortunately, one can still try traditional Maraschino liqueur (and, presumably, Maraschino cherries.) I intend to do so and look forward to the day with great anticipation.
Michael’s show was electrifying. It was sharply funny and experimental in all the right ways, which is to say that it was very different from Cherry Vanilla. But I can’t blame the flavor—or Stewart’s, even—for its shortcomings. It is just a short branch in the tall, tall tree that is the industry of Marasca cherry knock-off products. It is an institutionalized Wrong that is so far removed from Right that it no longer bears any of the responsibility.
It wasn’t a complete loss, though. Without trying this flavor, I never would have done this research.
So, I have Cherry Vanilla to thank for allowing me to stay in Wonderland, and for showing me how deep the rabbit hole goes.
Before I read your '"story" I loved vanilla ice cream with maraschino cherries. After I read your story, I still like vanilla ice cream with maraschino cherriesl Grandma Vargo!!!