BY CARLA WALDEMAR
Milkjam Creamery
2743 Lyndale Ave. S., Mpls. 55408
612-424-4668
milkjamcreamery.com
Monello in Hotel Ivy
1115 2nd Ave. S., Mpls. 55403
612-353-6207
monellompls.com
Complimentary Valet Parking
Two new specialty spots offer treats for your sweetie on his/her special day. One is cheap and cheerful (not to mention, ultra-inventive); the other, a class act in a swank hotel starring pasta at prices you and I can afford.
Milkjam Creamery
Why launch an ice cream shop in winter? A: Because it’s cold out, duh! At least, that’s the—um—logic offered by ace restaurateur Sameh Wadi of Saffron, who recently debuted Milkjam Creamery at 2743 Lyndale Ave. S., next door to his standout Lyn-Lake short-order spot, World Street Kitchen.
As Sameh explained, “How can you cut metal? Only with another piece of metal. So, how do you combat a sub-zero wind chill? By eating ice cream.” Natch—I guess.
I’m not ready to endorse that logic, but I surely can swear by the flavor combos—16 at any given time—starring behind the scoop shop’s counter. No excuse for a raid by the gluten police, either, for six of the mix are dairy-free, calling on olive oil and coconut milk instead of cream. My fave, after licking far more samples than should be legal: the Indian Elvis (think curry with peanut butter and banana). Or the chocolate number, so deeply intense it becomes existential.
But you do crave carbs because it’s so effing cold? Then grab the Jam Bun, aka a doughnut-cum-ice cream sandwich, courtesy of Glam Doll (and nobody makes ’em better).
Or, how’s this for a happier happy hour? An adult float with your choice of ice cream flavors bobbing in sparkling wine, a Lambic beer or craft brew? Trust me, you’ll never go back on the wagon. The most irresistible among the sundaes may be the unbeatable combo of coconut and Indian Elvis with spicy honey, curried peanuts and caramel syrup, $8.50. (Scoops start at $3.)
The bright, white, hospital-shiny scoop shop is open until 9 p.m. at present, but look for expanded hours when (if) summer ever comes.
Monello
Downtown’s Hotel Ivy has morphed its dining space into Monello, a ristorante dedicated to the best-ever way to celebrate carbs. Led by Mike DeCamp, formerly of La Belle Vie, the new room is slick and urbane in design, its servers warm and polished, the noise level subdued, the valet service free—a winning formula for success. Top that with a collection of some of the very best pasta dishes in the metro (oh, let’s be honest: in North America), and we can crown Monello as the pleasantest of all our newly-launched Italian endeavors in which to spend an evening. Although it offers a full menu, pasta is the star of the cucina, available in half or full portions ($9-12/$16-19): eight gotta-try renditions. To stop folks like me from a meltdown of indecision, the kitchen also offers a pasta-tasting menu: four pastas of your choice, a cheese course and dessert, $65. Two of us split a single menu and rolled away from the table, as stuffed as the cappelletti.
First up, however, a miniscule amuse-bouche involving a jumpin’ ancho pepper and chorizo (what part of Italy is that, again?), along with well-made focaccia. Then the real fun begins: fullbodied gemelli twists tossed with sweet, meaty chunks of blue crab, creamy avocado and smooth botarga cheese, all awash (generously) in a bright lemon beurre blanc.
Next, squares of fazzoletti tangled with succulent chunks of lobster, along with hazelnuts and a hint of saffron under a (talk about trendy) bubbly Prosecco foam—and lots more butter. Then, as antidote to the winds of winter, maccheroni al torchio mingling with braised rabbit, batons of beets, crème fraiche and artichokes. Run that focaccia through the broth because you won’t want to waste a drop. Finally, packets of agnolotti plump with sweet and hearty sausage, served among beet cubes and goat cheese.
The petite bite of cheese—a supple, full-flavored three-milk robiola, reignited us. It’s served with a sweet puree of pear and subtle hint of allspice. Then dessert—a miraculous pumpkin crème brulee (but too little of it), accompanied by cubes of molasses spice cake (ho-hum), a sweet-tart green apple emulsion, apple matchsticks and apple butter.
Wines BTG are a little spendy (beer and cocktails boast less sticker shock), but hey: This isn’t a joint in which to show up in wrinkled jeans and Adidas, this is a Dining Experience (without the starch that tired term implies), and a lovely addition to downtown.
