“Welcome Back — we missed
you!” reads a sign written in light
blue chalk cursive on the wall
of Blank Slate Creamery, Ann
Arbor’s
premier
sweet-tooth
hotspot. It is 2:30 p.m. on a sunny,
yet chilly, Monday afternoon in
early March, about 26 degrees
fahrenheit with scattered snow
showers.
The
shop,
nestled
on a corner near the heart of
downtown Ann Arbor, right past
Main Street, had opened its doors
for business only 30 minutes
previously.
Despite
the
cold
weather and trek from campus,
as snow falls and the temperature
drops, the shop is a revolving
door of happy customers — a mix
of townies and students alike. All
of them hovered over the circular
tables with chalkboard surfaces,
spooning balsamic strawberry,
brown butter cookie dough and
(a personal favorite) wolverine
tracks flavored ice cream between
laughs.
On this particular Monday,
Blank Slate has just reopened for
the season, having been closed
for the dead of Michigan winter,
when most of us can barely get
out of bed to go outside, let alone
eat ice cream. I’m an advocate
for them to open their doors all
year around, considering the
midterm
season
craving
for
some of my favorite scoops calls
even when it’s 10 below zero (a
further testament to wolverine
tracks being the best ice cream
flavor I’ve ever had). That being
said, I couldn’t wait to open the
front door when I arrived to visit
the shop’s owner, Janice Sigler.
A few days before my visit, they
celebrated the fifth anniversary
of their 2014 opening, which
Sigler did not anticipate at all.
“We ran out of ice cream in the
first two days. And people were
saying it was a marketing ploy!
But I was so stressed, thinking
how could I open this place and
run out of our product before the
first two days?” she said in an
interview with The Daily when
asked to describe that opening
weekend.
Though stressful at the time,
this first weekend set up very well
for what was to come for the shop,
as it quickly became one of the
most popular dessert locations in
Ann Arbor. Marketing ploy or not,
Janice and her family must’ve
been doing something right,
because the minute they had
enough ice cream to re-open their
doors the crowds came running.
Sigler is an alum of the
University, having completed her
degree in 1991. She went on to
work with alumni relations for
about 20 years before deciding
she wanted to be her own boss.
In brainstorming ideas of what
she could do if she left her job
with alumni relations, she was
reminded of an old dream of
hers she had growing up. She
used to live near an old school
house she always thought would
make a great ice cream shop.
And suddenly, she realized that
her destiny was to open her own
shop — one with its own quirky
personality that would make it
stand apart from the 80,000 ice
cream, gelato and frozen yogurt
shops around the U.S.. When she
was in her 20s, this ice cream shop
ambition seemed like it would be
nothing more than a dream, but
things have since changed. This is
a testament to an ongoing theme
running through the central vein
of the shop: authenticity and
going back to your roots.
Sigler’s son Nate showed me
around the shop’s kitchen while
he told me about his mother’s
journey to becoming what I call
an ice cream engineer — making
her own unique flavors, all from
scratch. She began with a little
cupboard
ice
cream
maker,
testing out different flavors and
ingredients
before
realizing
the potential she had in the
world of ice cream. Some may
say she bends the rules of the
conventional ice cream flavor, but
I say she advances the world of ice
cream, taking even the diehard
Breyers french vanilla fans and
making them go nuts over Fresh
Basil
or
Blueberry
Pancake.
Suddenly, everyone is interested
in
blackberry-riesling
sorbet
paired with a scoop of creamy
matcha.
After
the
initial
experimentations with the little
ice cream maker, it was time to
step it up a notch. Janice was
trained in Massachusetts by
Gary of Gary’s ice cream, and
had mentors from all over the
country — the dairy programs at
neighboring Big 10 universities
especially. She nods to MSU, who,
despite the rivalry, welcomed her
warmly and aided her with the
cooling process. Since then, the
team at Blank Slate have become
experts.
Nate showed me how they mix
in the fresh ingredients for each
individual flavor, adding garden
mint or coffee grounds to the mix
while it’s still hot. Chemically,
this really infuses the ice cream
with the specific ingredients,
making the flavor all the more
aromatic and heavenly. After
the ice cream is finished being
made it goes into a -25 degree
freezer to harden. The time on
the process is precise, and when
the timers go off for various steps
Nate and the other employees
drop what they’re doing to attend
immediately to the product.
“It’s hard to change people’s
taste and their minds when it
comes to ice cream and when
they’re used to artificial flavor,”
Janice said about their flavors.
“The mint chip is not bright
green, and over here I’m making
fresh blackberry jelly for our
peanut butter and jelly ice cream.
It’s not what people are used to,
but that’s the fun of it.”
I never realized how much
goes into the process before the
cone is passed over the white
countertop into my thankful
palms — and I certainly gained a
further appreciation for the trials
and tribulations of the ice cream
chemist.
So what’s the secret?
“Well, we go the extra mile,”
laughs Nate, “and that’s why they
go the extra mile,” gesturing to
the filled tables of customers
who have walked a little less than
a mile from campus for an ice
cream cone.
Blank Slate certainly does go
the extra mile. I was lucky enough
to get a backstage glance into
the ice cream making process,
and learned about the rigorous
process that goes into the end
product: a pink cup enclosed
with rich, creamy hot fudge and
adorned with a glossy maraschino
cherry. While most ice cream
places purchase a mix or perhaps
just receive large containers of
their ice cream from a bigger
corporation, Blank Slate makes
everything from scratch. This
means everything from the ice
cream to the mix-ins, including
things like cookie dough, caramel,
fudge and brownie bites. They use
the freshest fruit for their fruitier
flavors and the most quality
ingredients for mix-ins that they
cannot make from scratch. Their
dairy provider, Guernsey Dairy
Farms, in Northville, Mich.,
pasteurizes their product before
it gets to the store, however, the
staff must re-pasteurize the dairy
prior to making the ice cream,
which is one of the earliest steps
of the process.
When I was there they were
making the brown butter cookie
dough flavor. The eggless cookie
dough is made from scratch, and
the dough is swirled into the base.
“I want to try to make it so I
would like every bite, you know?
And so everyone doesn’t have to
be picking out the cookie dough,”
Nate laughs as he focuses on the
swirl of the ice cream filling up
white containers, en route to the
freezer.
The
staff
has
a
certain
camaraderie
and
personality
to them, which fits Blank Slate
perfectly. As a family owned
business, Janice and her son Nate,
who is the operations manager,
work closely day in and day out,
and the value of having a mother-
son duo working together is
something really special. Janice
and her husband live on top
of the shop, both Michigan
graduates with passionate, warm
personalities. I had the pleasure
of meeting both of them in my
recent visit to Blank Slate — and
got to talk to them about the
family values that are the key
to Blank Slate’s charm. Janice’s
father did the electrical work of
the building, and her brother, a
carpenter helped upon opening
too. The employees make the
atmosphere and energy in Blank
Slate vibrant, hospitable and
waffle cone scented.
This takes me back to the
first time I ever had Blank Slate,
which I consider one of my best
memories at the University thus
far. My best friend and I, having
finished our first exams of college
in mid-December of our freshman
year decided to head out to get ice
cream in celebration of our tests
being over. We selected Blank
Slate as the location, despite the
9:00 p.m. chill in the December
air. When we were halfway there
from our dorm room in East
Quad it began to really snow for
the first time since we’d arrived
at Michigan. This was the first
blizzard of the winter. The snow
was coming down in huge wet
flakes, sticking to our hair and
our hats and our coats. Our first
instinct was to turn back, but
we were already halfway into
the 30-minute walk, and we had
heard that the ice cream was
worth it. So we trekked on. Our
hands were freezing cold, and
tears — a result of laughing too
hard, or perhaps the nostalgia of
growing older — froze like icicles
on our cheeks. Our noses were
pink and our eyes bright. Finally,
after what seemed like an eternity,
we arrived. The black and white
sign hung like a cloud in the sky,
the little grey building like a
temple or a house of worship. We
skid down the sloped road toward
the front door, and collapsed into
its open embrace, still smiling
as we proceeded to defrost. I
think this was the moment that
I realized what I adore so much
about this city and its peculiar
idiosyncrasies everywhere you
turn, making it so easy to fall in
love with. Everything in Ann
Arbor, even the ice cream, is done
with a degree of love I didn’t
know existed in any other pocket
of the Earth. This was my first
time at Blank Slate. I had the
white chocolate raspberry flavor,
with homemade hot fudge, still
my go-to, and still tastes like
coming home.
Since then, I’ve brought every
visitor I’ve ever had to the shop,
from
my
grandparents
who
were craving ice cream after the
spring football game last year
to my best friend, who visited
on a snowy Nov. weekend to
see a performance of a show I
was working on. Each time is
better than the last, with new
memories and flavors. A personal
favorite moment was when my
younger
brother
decided
to
commit to the University class
of 2022, and we celebrated with
two ice cream flights and a pile
of tiny plastic spoons. That’s
the best way to describe Blank
Slate: a celebration, even when
it isn’t called for. Just a spoonful
of celebration. A spoonful of
happiness.
After the tour of the ice cream
laboratory, an array of tasters
on little paper spoons (matcha
is incredible, the brown butter
cookie dough is to die for) and of
course a warm waffle cone with
none other than white chocolate
raspberry, I had to walk out of the
front door of Blank Slate and back
into the real world. But luckily,
I got to do it with a feeling of
amiability and satisfaction in my
heart, and an ice cream cone in
my hand.
One of the most endearing parts
of the shop to me is the name. It’s
unconventional, nonetheless with
sweet individuality that makes it
more alluring and distinctive.
The name of the shop is a
testament to the journey from
Communications major to dairy
expert, starting anew in pursuit of
a childhood dream. And isn’t that
what we all need sometimes? An
ice cream cone dripping down the
side of our hand (chocolate fudge
brownie and madagascar vanilla
with fresh raspberry sauce), an
adventure and a fresh start.
In 2015, the Netflix series
“Narcos” enthralled audiences
with a retelling of the life and
business
of
Columbian
drug
kingpin Pablo Escobar. An instant
hit, the series was renewed for
four seasons, the third of which
premiered this past September to
critical acclaim. Now, attempting
to feed off of this success is “The
Mechanism,” a “Narcos”-esque
show from the same producer:
José Padilha.
Departing
from
Escobar’s
Colombian
cartel,
“The
Mechanism”
takes
place
in
Brazil and is loosely based on
the investigation of rampant
bribery and foul-play in the state-
controlled oil industry, known as
Operação Lava Jato (Operation
Car Wash). Told through the
eyes of police officer Marco Ruffo
(Selton Mello, “The Movie of My
Life”), the series highlights both
the personal and professional
consequences of trying to take
down corrupt public officials. In
the first episode alone, Ruffo’s
family is threatened by the
money-laundering
criminal
Roberto Ibrahim (Enrique Diaz,
“Rust”). The second episode
jumps
10
years
ahead,
the
case still unsolved, with Ruffo
struggling to find another job
because he’s been marked with
retirement due to mental illness.
With
the
narration-based
storytelling and a crime story
plotline, the comparisons to
“Narcos”
are
obvious
and
unsurprising. What would be
surprising is if “The Mechanism”
receives the same praise as its
predecessor, as quality is not one
of the things the two shows share.
Though effective in introducing
its
main
character
and
understanding his obsession with
solving the corruption scandal,
Ruffo’s voiceover is suffocating
at points — often using cheesy
one-liners
and
unnecessary
profanity to tell the story. There
is a chance for recovery when the
series continuously shifts focus
between Ruffo and his badass
woman mentee, Verena Cardoni
(Caroline Abras, “Something Like
That”). Yet without sustaining
the narration style that the show
debuted with, some later parts
and episodes feel disconnected,
and as a result, the audience
fails to understand some main
characters, like Verena, as much
as they may others.
In fact, most of the issues with
“The Mechanism” comes from
its dialogue; not necessarily what
it contains, but rather how it is
presented. The show does not
use subtitles, but instead dubs its
Spanish and Portuguese-speaking
actors with English voices. This
makes for an uncomfortable and
distracting experience, one that
could be resolved if the majority
of American people wouldn’t
mind understanding their shows
through subtitles rather than
relying on less-than-exemplary
dubbing.
The saving grace of the series
is its cinematography, which
showcases the sweeping skylines
of some of Brazil’s most beautiful
cities, including São Paulo and
Brasília. In more poignant shots,
the severe economic inequality
of Brazil is depicted through
contrasting scenes of the lavish
houses of politicians and the
sagging huts of a poverty-stricken
portion of the public.
Yet not even this can redeem
“The
Mechanism”
from
the
larger problem of the genre that it
hails from.
While perhaps entertaining,
there are dangerous undertones
to the thread of series and movies
that use the stereotype that
Latin America is nothing more
than a crime-infested drug hub.
Even the promotional art for
“Narcos,” a series praised for
its representation of Escobar’s
Columbia, turned the entirety of
South America into a single pile
of cocaine. From dramas like
“Narcos” to comedies like “We’re
the Millers,” Latin Americans
and their countries are turned to
nothing more than drug dealers
or their victims. This phenomena
just perpetuates an unfavorable
view of its population that many
in America are attempting to
foster.
As important as it is to learn
about
and
understand
the
violence and struggle that many
are facing in Latin American
communities, there has to be
better ways to do so. Tacky,
over-dramatic Netflix shows can
be fun to watch, but they only
succeed in making entertainment
out of the real-life and ongoing
misery of the citizens they
address. Instead of relying on an
eight-part series for global news,
perhaps we should demand more
of our media in their depictions
of ever-vibrant culture of the
Americas, and not just their
unfortunate blemishes. Though
“The Mechanism” may shed light
on a serious and topical issue that
those outside of Brazil may not
know about, it does so in a way
that is trivializing and artificial.
True understanding comes from
resources beyond what is fun
to watch; and if someone really
wants to educate themselves on
the political and socio-economic
issues of surrounding countries,
“The Mechanism” is certainly not
the way to do it.
There are huge venues and
there are small venues — think
Little Caesar’s Arena compared
to St. Andrew’s Hall — and then
there is Hill Auditorium. Though
I’ve been inside for academic
lectures
and
student
group
performances, I’m ashamed to
admit that until Saturday, I’d never
actually been to a concert there.
Under the auditorium’s sweeping,
megaphone-like
arches,
I
sat
silently, waiting for the chatter of
the audience around me to die
down.
When Roy Woods sauntered
onto the stage, I was slightly
surprised. In my experience, I’ve
never been to a single concert
where the set actually started on
time. From the upraised platform
that overlooked the hall, Woods
immediately threw his entire
being into the stage; I don’t think
he was still for a single second
of his nearly hour-long set. His
energy, magnetic stage presence
and
eclectic,
bouncing
dance
moves captivated the crowd. At
some point, he took his shirt off
and stared at us silently while the
auditorium echoed with screams
for about a minute straight. I’d
come in with no idea of who Roy
Woods was, but by the time he
exited, waving enthusiastically
back at us, I knew that many people
felt as if his performance was
the perfect appetizer to the main
course — blackbear.
On his tracks, blackbear’s voice
is smooth, measured and chilled
out: In the studio recording,
“Idfc” is resigned yet emotionally
hard-hitting,
and
carries
an
undercurrent
of
powerful,
subtle grief. Performed live, the
song takes on a heavy, intense
desperation
that’s
absolutely
intoxicating to listen to. With
the help of some amped up bass
and tinkly percussion, the same
melody reached higher highs and
deeper lows, and all this combined
with the diffused light from an
army’s worth of phone flashlights
made for a very stereotypical (but
not altogether unpleasant!) loud,
boisterous
concert
experience.
Besides “Idfc,” blackbear also
performed some of his most
popular tracks off of his most
recent albums, including “4u”
and “Dirty Laundry” from 2015’s
Deadroses and “gucci linen” and
“bright pink timbs” off of last
year’s cybersex (although I was
more than a little disappointed he
didn’t actually play “Deadroses”
itself). He closed the night with a
feint by leaving amid a chorus of
cries and then coming back for one
last hurrah.
blackbear is undeniably one of
the most popular artists in the U.S.
right now. Some love him. Some
hate him. Some think that his whole
mega emo, bleeding-heart vibe is
way overdone. Even though I’ve
been listening to blackbear in some
way or another since high school,
I haven’t really made up my mind
on his music. In the end, his tracks
are probably still going to remain
on my every-once-in-a-while, I’m-
feelin’-kinda-basic
playlist.
To
some extent, I agree that singing
about love is cliché — people
have been doing it for thousands
of years — but at the same time,
blackbear wouldn’t be popular if
his lyrics and style weren’t deeply
relatable to a broader audience, and
there’s nothing wrong with staying
relatable.
black bear and Roy Woods
headline Hill Auditorium
ELI RALLO
Daily Food Columnist
‘Mechanism’ is a failure
SAMANTHA DELLA FERA
Daily Arts Writer
MATT VAILLIENCOURT / DAILY
CONCERT REVIEW
TV REVIEW
From Cow to Cone: Inside
Ann Arbor’s Blank Slate
DAILY FOOD COLUMN
SAM LU
Daily Arts Writer
“The
Mechanism”
Netflix
5A — Wednesday, March 28, 2018
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com