“I’ll explain how the process works as I prepare your order” shouts Ahrash over the buzz of the crowds and the whirrrrr of the industrial food mixers.
And donning a thick gauntlet, and dropping plastic safety glasses, he turns to the cannister containing nitrogen oxide and casually turns the latch, releasing a gushing of colder-than-ice-cold steam into the pureed ice cream mixture.
This is Camden. This is England. Eating nitro ice cream in the 2010′s and drinking Gentleman’s Wit bier under a winter sun, the former created in the shadow of the famous lock, the latter brewed a short walk (or intricate bus ride) beneath the nearby railway aches. And this is brilliant.
This is Camden on a cold Saturday in December...
The forty minute walk from Oxford Street serves only to highlight the excitement and buzz that infiltrates Camden as if seeping from every nook and cranny. From the tower blocks and simmering back streets of Mornington Crescent we arrive ready for refreshment; the bustling pavements and exciting shop fronts are just the tonic.
First stop the Black Heart, branded with just a single unpolished charcoal heart hanging above the shadows of a side street like a cynical acme weight. Inside the spirit of art and entrepreneurship that encapsulates Camden is visible in the gig poster prints and the illustrated flyers for local events.
The beer taps host a variety of pilsners, wheats and lagers from around the world but most importantly, the local brews from just around the corner at Camden Brewery. It’s no surprise to find out that the team can barely get their precious liquid fast enough to the hungry cellars north of the river. And hungry bars there are aplenty – as we leave we’ve just enough time to poke our heads through the ajar door of the building site that will soon be the latest BrewDog bar, another uber cool haunt on the Camden circuit.
Warmed and refreshed we march onwards, tightening jackets and donning gloves, because at our next destination we risk chilblains.
Chin Chin Labs is the first liquid nitrogen ice cream parlour in Europe and before wide open eyes they combine science and gastronomy in a frieze of frosty concoctions at temperatures that make even the crisp December air blush.
Emerging from another blast of icy steam, Ahrash and wife Nyisha appear under the intricate network of pipes and hanging platforms that run from ceiling to floor.
From this playful production line come such experimental delicacies as Pondicherry Vanilla (using unrefined cane and palm sugar heavily flecked with seeds), Sourdough French Toast (made with locally baked French toast infused with mace, nutmeg, cinnamon sugar) and Junk Food Frozen Yoghurt (2% fat homemade yoghurt with chocolate, gummy bears, marshmallows and popcorn).
Brrrrrrr! Blending nitro ice cream
Mulled Malbec Nitro Ice Cream... sublime!
Booze isn’t left out in the cold. The devilish Beer & Dulce de Leche flavour is blended with Belgian Duvel, whilst the weekend brew bar serves hot winter Pimms, whisky eggnog and thick 80% Valrhona Coeur De Guanaja hot chocolate to warm the cockles of the crowd peering through the nitrogen clouds that billow onto the pavement.
We leave with the smoothest, most delicate ice cream experience imaginable, plus a beginner’s crash course in the technology of low temperature foodstuffs. Not to mention smiles from ear to ear and we ponder over the best beers to pair with Madagascan Vanilla Bean and honeycomb pieces?
Hot mulled wine would be perfect today; it’s brisk and cold (although I’m on the Mulled Malbec ChinChin Special, so that might be vino overload). The streets are swarming with winter coats and colourful knitted hats as we bumble through the crowds towards the station. Camden is a window shopper’s paradise, from cutesy craft to tourist kitsch, and all the music inspired tat that you might expect in a place built on market trade and a liberal outlook on life. And it’s alive with community spirit between its eclectic mix of businesses and traders.
We grab a tall luscious glass of Camden Wheat from the brewery, where pipes and bespoke fittings are crammed under the arches of the overground. Innovation and passion hang around the brew kit (and the ice cream kit up the road), bottom-up guardian angels of commerce and craft in this pocket of winter fun.
And we head to the train, lured by the word of mouth reports of the Southampton Arms a few miles north, and a similar promise of local spirit and good beer.
