Dolce Gelato
697 College Street
416-915-0756
1-3 scoops: 3-5$ (Larger tubs also available)

“Eh! Mi piace mangiare gelato!!” That’s me screaming for ice cream, I think, in Italian. The extent of my Italian language instruction ended around 1995 when I moved across country and away from an Italian Canadian girlfriend, it’s a long story. But after a recent visit to Dolce Gelato in the western reaches of Little Italy, a few words came rushing back, brought on by the very Italian-tasting product they sell in the shop. Unlike many places in Toronto that serve gelato too cold and hard to be properly called gelato, the offering at Dolce is soft and creamy. When I ask why, the answer is that it’s handmade in the shop so it isn’t shipped anywhere in a deep-freezer truck. As a result, at Dolce, you will never see your server come on to ‘er mangia-cake-style in order to scoop out a ball or two. Just like the stuff you’d get in Bari or San Gimignano or any other random Italian town, the gelato at Dolce slides up the side of the scoop like a silk stocking up the leg of an Milanese supermodel. Did I say that out loud?

According to the Internet, the word dolce can mean either sweet, nice or dessert. I’m here to tell you any of these translations work for me. My first visit was last summer with my daughter. It was on a random walk-by during which we stopped to check out the relative rarity of a new Italian business opening on the quickly de-Italianifying College St. strip. We were hooked about 5 seconds after walking in the door. In the same way the cheesemongers of Kensington will let you sample any cheese your heart desires, the gelato scoopers at Dolce will hand you over mini-spoonful of straciatella, tiramisu or whatever else sounds like a plan, which all the flavours do. Last summer, the flavour of choice for my daughter and I was limone, an icy, lemony treat my daughter came to know as “that cream that tastes like lemonade!” And so it does. Dolce’s Limone tastes like the lemons were plucked from an orchard in Tuscany, pressed by the Pope himself and frozen about 5 minutes ago. We came back repeatedly. Needless to say, when the snow began to fly last fall we were crushed.

Until last week that is, well, me anyway. Although I did feel a little guilty that I wasn’t waiting for my daughter to come back from her mom’s, I walked myself all the way back up to College Street for another go. I thought maybe I should try it out again before the little one came back to make sure it was still okay, you know, like a Royal taste-tester or something. Okay, that’s ridiculous. I simply wanted to savour anew Dolce’s gelato to see if the lofty heights it had reached in my mind over the long cold winter were warranted. Indeed they were. Passing over the “cream that tastes like lemonade” out of guilt that I was there solo, I thought I’d try something else. First I asked for a sample of the pistachio. Molto bene. It’s creamy, with the slightly bitter flavour of freshly cracked nuts. Next I sampled the raspberry. Delizioso. This one is sweet and sugary but it’s a little too early in season yet for me to go with fruit. I settled on what seemed to be a good early spring combo, a two-flavour bowl of walnut and chocolate.

I stepped back out onto College Street, headed south and dug into the chocolate. It was superb. Rich and velvety smooth, like a cool chocolate bath for my taste buds. Next I dug into the walnut. This one took me a second to wrap my head around. The first bite seemed dry almost like a white wine, as the bitter undertones of the nut cracked their way into my chocolate-saturated brain. During the second bite, the sweetness of the cream surrounding the bitterness of the nut sunk in and I was off to the great piazza in the sky. The next time I looked up I was at Dundas and my gelato was half gone. By the time I looked up again I was at Queen st. and the cup was empty. (Hint - if you live on King Street get the triple scooper.) I won’t tell my daughter about the trip. Ah Dolce mio. My only concern with the place is that I’m going to wear a track in the sidewalk as I head up and down to visit. Thankfully they sell a lot of shoes up there, too.