“Guero, guera! Guero, guera! Guero, guera!“ Standing on a corner between two Veracruz ice cream shops, we are caught in a friendly shouting match, ambushed by exploding word bombs. Raucous touts for both enterprises are yelling “Blondie! Blondie! Blondie! “ at us, hoping to snag our attention and get us to part with our pesos.
Why “Guero, guera”? No one seems to know—or care. In a city of dark-haired Jarochos, as Veracruz natives are sometimes known, shouting “Blondie!” at passersby might seem like a good marketing hook. But on this hot and humid night, we are simply desperate for cooling ice cream, so Silvia has navigated her big Ford SUV through the crowded streets, snagging a parking spot just a few blocks from the Zocalo and steps from Neveria Guero Guera.
You’d never guess you were about to enter ice cream paradise when you walk into the dilapidated, white-tiled, grimy-floored shop. In one corner, there is a shrine to the Virgen de Guadalupe, resplendent in glittering green and gold sequins, under an arch of pink plastic roses. Benignly detached, she appears to bestow a vague blessing on the shop’s greedy patrons. That would be us, or course.
We pay 12 pesos to a cashier in a high, old fashioned booth, then turn to the locus of our desire: a long counter into which are sunk a dozen or so round, stainless steel containers of the most exquisite tropical flavors this side of Tahiti. Twelve pesos will buy a 4-ounce cup with your choice of two: You can get chocolate and vanilla, of course, but why stick to the tried and true when you can sample some truly exotic tastes? There’s ice cream made of nanche, for instance, a small golden fruit which we’ve seen pickled in jars in the market, jobo, which resembles a yellow plum, and the mysteriously named marucaya.
Susana picks guanabana, a local favorite, I’m trying jobo and mango, other cups are filled with scoops of coco and cacahuate. Soon our spoons are dipping in and out of each other’s cups, and with full mouths, we’re all exclaiming, “Try this one!” Guanabana, or soursop,is wonderful, with an appealingly mellow, sweet tropical flavor. Golden-hued jobo is pleasantly plummy, but the mango, though refreshing, lacks intensity—later we learn that the local fruit, hanging green on the trees, will not ripen until late April. Creamy coco with shreds of grated coconut is divine, as is cacahuate, which tastes as if freshly made peanut brittle has been mixed into the ice cream. It’s sweet, salty and crunchy with lots of coarsely ground roasted peanuts.
I notice that at first taste, flavors seem rich--after all, they’re made with fresh cream, stirred with a big wooden paddle during the freezing process. But gradually the ice cream seems to thin out and taste more like an ice. Sort of like Chinese food—an hour later I'm hungry again. But that’s OK, because we didn’t have a chance to sample nanche or marucayaor at least four other flavors. Oh, yes. We’ll be back.