The gleaming, stainless steel machines in Kopp’s Brookfield store are 70 years old. Those machines are as good a place as any to try to understand the many overlapping sections of Milwaukee’s frozen custard Venn diagram.
#Kopps flavor mac
With that simple recipe in mind, the affable Mac McGuire is happy to show a reporter and his frozen-custard-loving kids the freezer, which holds the Wisconsin-made custard mix, and gives us a close look at the machines that crank out the custard. “So it is as high a quality as you’re ever going to get.” “It comes off that machine and you’re eating it right away at twenty degrees,” says Klein. Temperature also plays a role: Frozen custard is about five degrees warmer than ice cream, which translates to smaller ice crystals. Frozen custard seems smoother, creamier than its hard-pack ice cream and frozen yogurt cousins because it has less air than hard ice cream, so there’s more of it in your mouth with each bite. The yolk is there to add flavor and as an emulsifier, making it all mix together nicely.
#Kopps flavor plus
“Beyond that, it has to meet the definition of ice cream, which is at least 10 percent milk fat, no more than 100 percent overrun and 20 percent total milk solids.” In other words, frozen custard is ice cream, plus egg yolk. “In order to be called frozen custard, you need to have one-point- four percent egg yolk solids,” explains Bill Klein, the plant manager for the Babcock Hall Dairy Plant at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. As far as science goes, the formula for making frozen custard is pretty simple. It might not be rocket science, but it is dairy science. McGuire is wearing the uniform you’ll find the employees wearing at all three Kopp’s locations: white shirt, white pants, white apron, white paper hat – and black bow tie. “The custard runs into the back of the machine, it gets frozen in a barrel, and it comes out the front.” We’re standing in the Kopp’s office, a fishbowl at the back of the production floor, with a vista of the four machines that produce hundreds of gallons of vanilla, chocolate and the flavors of the day. “It’s not rocket science,” says Dick “Mac” McGuire, owner of the Kopp’s Frozen Custard on Bluemound Road in Brookfield. Even the product itself doesn’t involve many proprietary secrets. If you’re looking for backstabbing and sneaky business practices, look elsewhere. And the story of our frozen custard culture is very Milwaukee indeed, with an ongoing history of families helping families and an emphasis on cooperation, not cutthroat competition. We embrace tradition in Milwaukee, and are proud of our reputed niceness. Seeing the frozen custard emerge adds to the appeal. At the risk of my waistline and cholesterol levels, I recently beat a path back to the city’s longstanding stands to learn what makes our custard culture special, and maybe have the custard shop owners talk a little smack about each other.īut like a duckpin bowler in tenpin country, that is not the way we roll here in Milwaukee. A year or so later, when we put ourselves on frozen custard-free diets, that question faded from my mind. Forget Cream City: I remember wondering (as I ate my many cones) how Milwaukee came to be Frozen Custard City. The first summer we lived here, we dutifully tried each of the city’s venerable custard stands, dutifully checked the Flavor of the Day every evening, and dutifully gained eight or nine pounds. When my wife and I moved to Milwaukee 11 years ago, we were instantly smitten with frozen custard.
0 kommentar(er)
