“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

