Ever wonder how Ben & Jerry’s new Cores flavors came to be?
The Electric Cheesecake Experience
On a recent dark and stormy night, a bunch of us Flavor Gurus got together for a dessert potluck, which, if you haven’t had one, is by far the greatest thing you could ever hope to experience in your life. Just saying.
Someone brought cheesecake, someone else baked some chocolate cookies, and more than a few brought chocolate ice cream.
Thunder rattled the house and the lights blinked on and off nervously. All of the deserts were spread out on the counter in the kitchen. The power suddenly went out so we lit some candles, and the cheesecake seemed to sway slowly in the flickering light.
Rain pounded against the windows and occasionally the outside world lit up with the brightness of day.
We had gotten used to the sounds of the storm and were happily oblivious, chatting about desserts, when a blast of thunder shook the house to its foundation, followed quickly by a blinding flash of light that knocked us backward onto the floor.
When we stood up we stared in amazement in the direction of the counter, which was obscured by a veil of smoke. We heard fizzing and hissing and the air crackled when we moved, like it was thick with static electricity.
The biggest shock was still to come: The energy of the explosion had somehow reconfigured and combined all those delicious treats and there, in all its glory, was a glowing pint of Cookies & Cream Cheesecake Core.
We gasped, then looked at each other with wild eyes and gasped again, after seeing how everyone’s hair was slightly charred and standing on end.
Then we grabbed some spoons and dug in.
Imagine that you’ve been baking, cutting, sampling, mixing, swirling, and dunking brownies for weeks on end. You know you’re close to dessert transcendence. You can feel it. You can taste it! But something’s missing. And you don’t know what it is.
This is the story of a top Flavor Guru who loved brownies so much that he could think or speak of nothing else. We began seeing him only in passing, dribbled batter dried to a crust on his apron. Rumors spread that he was skipping meals, that he was even sleeping in the kitchen, curled up on the floor using a tray of brownies as a pillow, empty pints all around, mumbling about recipes as he dreamed.
When everyone else left one Friday to return home to their families and friends, he stayed behind. “Just one more batch,” he whispered to himself shakily while taking a tray from the oven. As he mixed up some new batter and waited for the fresh brownies to cool, his eyes began darting back and forth between the bowl and the cooling rack and the freezer full of ice cream. He heard his stomach growl.
Something snapped. It was all a blur, brownies and ice cream, ice cream and brownies. But he paused mid-gobble and stared again at the batter.
The whole world stood still, is how he described it to us later. As he hungrily licked the batter from his fingers, a smile spread across his face. “That’s it!” he cried, loud enough to rattle all the spoons in the kitchen. “That’s it!!”
When we returned to the office Monday morning, there he was, clean shaven, fresh clothes, combed hair, beaming—holding in his hands a pint of Brownie Batter Core, the hard-earned brownie breakthrough the world’s been waiting for.