Ice Cream Queen

Alabanza’s debut cookbook isn’t just another pretty prop for your shelf or coffee table. Instead, the acclaimed pastry chef delivers strategically curated archival research laying out the truth: ice cream, as we know it, exists because of both the histories of colonization and enslavement and the fierce ingenuity of Black folks.

Chalk it up as essential reading. For those unfamiliar with Black history, the truths Alabanza presents may come as a revelation. For those of us who have long refused to stay silent about Black ingenuity and innovations that rarely get their due, it’s refreshing to see the real story finally acknowledged and uplifted. Between pages that teach you how to turn brewed bags of Lipton tea into a creamy custard or transform Prince’s famous fried chicken skins into an ice cream topping, you’ll also stumble upon archives that document what we’ve always known: Black people have been pioneering, even through trying times. Food is never just sustenance for us; it’s grounded in centuries of struggle and ancestral wisdom that guide us through it all.

Ashia Aubourg Looking back on your upbringing, what experiences or pivotal moments do you feel most shaped the path that ultimately led you to write Ice Cream Queen?

Lokelani Alabanza Oh my gosh, it was most certainly watching my grandmother cook in the kitchen. I grew up in the ‘80s and just remember her yellow kitchen, the tulips on her curtains, and her oven. Being around her just planted a seed.

I was an only child at the time, and my grandmother raised me. Growing up, I was so curious. I would play Trivial Pursuit by myself. I was always intrigued by stuff. And I just loved the fact that people could be in the kitchen. They were talking to you about food, and then all of a sudden they made this thing.

At the time, I didn’t think about being a cook. But it was something that I was very unconsciously enamored by. There’s nothing like a grandma’s kitchen. I just remember her sitting, talking on the rotary dial phone, and twisting her fingers.

And then, when I would go see my dad’s Filipino side of the family in San Francisco, it was really interesting to eat dishes like lumpia, puta, and fried snapper. And my mother is an extraordinary cook. She loves a flavor profile. I almost think that she probably could have owned a restaurant or something in the food world, because she’s just so naturally gifted. So growing up, food was always around me.

Ashia What inspired you to explore the intersection of ice cream, history, and Black identity, and at what point did you realize this story needed to become a book?

Lokelani When I embarked on this journey of ice cream, I tell everybody it found me. Twenty years ago, if you would’ve told me I would create a cookbook about it, I’d be like, ‘There’s no way.’ I knew I always wanted to write one, though. I love food history. But while I was in culinary school, no one was talking about Black food history.

Ashia Oh—food justice wasn’t exactly a huge topic. When I enrolled in Syracuse University’s food studies program back in 2018, I became the first person in the school’s history to declare it as a major. It just goes to show how new and emerging this field still is.

Lokelani I get it. When it came time to tell my story, even down to my proposal, I had to figure out how to talk about all of these things. The book began to shape itself over time. So at first, I had these photographs. Then, I had this idea. Like, ‘I know I’m in ice cream. I want to talk about Black people; I want to talk about hard things, but there’s joy in it all.’

Ashia I love that because even when I was looking at the proof, I realized it’s not formatted like your average cookbook, but I appreciate that. It’s almost like a historical guide. Which brings me to my next question: A central figure you credit with inspiring Ice Cream Queen is Sarah Estell. What does it mean to you to carry forward her legacy, and the legacy of so many other Black confectioners whose contributions to culinary history have often gone unrecognized?

Lokelani So I learned about Sarah when I spotted this beautiful picture of a group of Black kids eating ice cream on eBay. I was like, ‘Who bought this picture?’ I’m a researcher by nature. And so I’m often on the hunt for photos.

So I learned that [Sarah] owned an ice cream saloon and a boarding house. I wrote down the addresses: 89 North Cherry and 39 North Summer [in Nashville, Tennessee]. Later on, I picked 89 Cherry Street as the original title of this book because Sarah lit this fire. I was so intrigued that she was in the same city as me, just 175 years prior. So learning about her just unlocked so many doors. I then discovered Kit Baldwin, who owned Baldwin Ice Cream on Chicago’s South Side in 1921.

For me, it was important to preserve that continuation. Because we know Ben and Jerry’s name, right? But if I ask somebody to name a Black ice cream manufacturer or a Black-owned ice cream shop in their neighborhood, they’re silent.