Despite what many might think, the key to success in the soft-serve ice cream business is not the precise construction of a sundae, the judicious whir of a chocolate shake or even memorizing what goes into a bubblegum slush.

        No, the key to making it in this sticky vocation is the ability to create a perfectly symmetrical ice cream cone, the kind that begins wide at the base and tapers artfully to the top, ending with one of those whippy-dippy flourishes that everyone licks off first.

Swirling ice cream onto a cone is harder than it looks. (Michael Snyder photos) | ZOOM |

        In the soft-serve world, making the perfect cone is essential — the thing that customers judge you on, the foundation for most of the frozen treats handed out the window.

        And this is why I could not last even a week in a soft-serve parlor: I can't make a decent soft-serve cone to save my life.

        Oh, Marilyn Tenhundfeld and Carol Sandman gave me a chance. As part of my “Quest with the Best” series, the women — who own the Goody Shop on Springdale Road in New Burlington — agreed to let me spend a couple of hours at their place trying to master the basics of soft-serve. The operative word here is “trying.”

        When I arrive 15 minutes late — not good for my first and only shift — Ms. Tenhundfeld turns me over to Sue Rush. Ms. Rush has transformed dozens of young, raw employees into efficient, professional soft-servers, so she surely won't have any problem teaching a few tricks to an intelligent, fortysomething man who thinks he knows something about food.

        Most new employees train for three days, working on their cone technique, rehearsing the turtle, peanut cluster and multitude of other sundaes.

Goody Shop trainer Sue Rush watches Chuck Martin construct a soft-serve cone. | ZOOM |

        “I can usually tell within the first hour whether someone is going to be able to make a good cone,” Ms. Rush says, in her clipped, drill sergeant delivery.

        Sheesh. Let's not pile any pressure on the poor trainee.

        “First thing to remember is, we don't touch the cone with our hands,” Ms. Rush says.

        Now I'm thinking this really is going to be difficult. These guys fill ice cream cones without picking them up! They are the ninja of soft-serve.

        My instructor allays my fears by handing me a cone, its bottom wrapped in a napkin. This is what she meant: Even though I have properly washed and sanitized my hands, I can't touch the cone with my bare hands. None of the Goody Shop technicians do.

A cone like this is no laughing matter. | ZOOM |

        Ms. Rush takes my cone hand, holds it under the stainless soft-serve faucet, then directs me to pull down on the lever.

        The vanilla ice cream rushes out too fast, over the edges of the cone.

        I try again. This time, the soft-serve oozes out at glacial pace, but I still manage to build a lop-sided cone that doesn't come close to meeting Ms. Rush's soft-serve standards.

        “Try again,” she commands.

        I should point out that while I'm struggling, 15 1/2-year-old Holly Schmidt is handling all the orders coming in. After working at the Goody Shop for nearly two years, she probably could make banana splits blindfolded and pull cones with no hands. And I never catch the kid laughing at me.

Owner Marilyn Tenhundfeld critiques Chuck's cone. | ZOOM |

        Ms. Rush takes my cone hand — this time gripping tightly, but not yet painfully — and tries to direct it in gentle counter-clockwise concentric circles under the flowing ice cream. Not only do these circles have to be even, spreading ice cream out over the edge of the cone, they must gradually become smaller to form the tip-top of the soft-serve. The finished cone should look like the one on the front of the bright red Goody Shop T-shirt they put me in.

        But so far, I'm not close. My cones turn out too wobbly, too fat at the bottom, too thin at the top. Unsatisfactory.

        “You know, if your cone isn't perfect you can always sprinkle jimmys (those teeny multicolored candies) on it to make it look better,” Ms. Rush offers.

        She's already giving up on me.

        An order for two “zebra” cones (a mix of chocolate and vanilla) comes in and my coach decides it's time to experience the real world: I will make the cones. They look terrible, so Ms. Rush knocks them out in no time. I try to give my reject cones to two young girls standing outside the window. They shake their heads “no” and look away.

HISTORY OF ICE CREAM

1271-1295 A.D. — Italian explorer Marco Polo returns from Asia with a recipe for a frozen milk-based dessert.     1533 — Many believe Catherine de Medicis of Italy takes ice cream to France when she becomes wife of Henry, duc d'Orleans, who later ruled as Henry II.     1700 — Ice cream and sherbet recipes are published in L'Art de Faire des Glaces.     1735 — Virginian Thomas Black is the first to use “ice cream” in print.     1809-1817 — President James Madison's wife, Dolley, helps popularize ice cream by serving it often at the White House.     1835 — English traveler Harriet Martineau reports “towers” of ice cream available daily in Kentucky.     1846 — Nancy Johnson of New Jersey invents a small hand-crank ice cream freezer for home use.     1870s — Ice cream parlors become common in the United States.     1904 — Ice cream cone is novelty at St. Louis World's Fair. (Several claim to have invented it.)     1934 — Thomas Carvel begins selling a new form of soft ice cream called frozen custard in Yonkers, N.Y.     1940 — Sherwood Noble opens similar soft ice cream stands under the name “Dairy Queen” in Joliet, Ill.     1950s — Americans begin buying more ice cream in supermarkets and groceries. The ice cream parlor fades.     1978 — Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield found Ben & Jerry's in Burlington, Vt. Their “Chunky Monkey,” “Cherry Garcia” and other products help feed a resurgence of premium ice creams.     Present — Americans consume more than 5.4 gallons of frozen dessert per capita, making them the largest ice cream consumers in the world, followed by Australia and Sweden.     Source: The Encyclopedia of American Food & Drink (Lebhar-Friedman; $29.95)

        When kids turn down free ice cream — ice cream you earnestly try to make pretty in a cone — it hurts.

        “Oh, they probably just thought there was some catch to it,” Ms. Sandman says.

        While getting roughed up by Ms. Rush for 30 minutes, the owners have been sipping coffee in the back of the restaurant, enjoying a post-lunch lull in business. I notice they are way too skinny to work in an ice cream shop, and then they admit it's probably because they don't really like to eat ice cream.

        Go figure.

        The women bought the Goody Shop six years ago and took over another place — Gold Top Dairy Bar in White Oak — this spring. Ms. Tenhundfeld is the veteran, having worked at more soft-serve places in 17 years than she can remember.

        “You should have seen Marilyn teaching me how to pull a cone,” Ms. Sandman says, again trying to make me feel better. “It took me forever.”

        Are there some people who just can't master the soft-serve cone?

        “Yes, we have had to let some people go,” Ms. Tenhundfeld says, sadly.

        Even though my cones are far from perfect, Ms. Rush has other lessons. Anyone who has stared through the soft-serve window knows the most daring-looking task is the gravity-defying, upside-down dip of a cone into melted chocolate. Pros call them “dip-tops.”

        Could I do that?

        Ms. Rush thinks so. She demonstrates and I follow her lead, dipping the cone into the vat of chocolate to cover all the ice cream, and then up quickly.

        “It's really pretty easy,” Ms. Tenhundfeld says.

        But her partner adds that it can be disastrous. If the ice cream falls off into the chocolate, you have to fish it out and then pour out the contaminated sauce.

        “The key is the cone,” Ms. Sandman says. “If they're built solid, the ice cream shouldn't come out.”

        Ms. Rush built my dip-top cone, which may explain why the ice cream didn't swim away in the chocolate sauce.

        Covering a soft-serve cone in jimmies also looks tricky, but it's not that difficult either. Ms. Rush shows me how to flop the cone into a bed of the little candy, and then spoon jimmies on top. Everything is fine until I go to pick up the cone and Ms. Rush nearly has a heart attack. She uses a spoon to brace the top of the ice cream as she lifts it. She rolls her eyes.

        Sorry, guess I skipped that chapter in the soft-serve training manual.

        My spirits rise when a gentleman orders two “black” brats with extra horseradish. (The Goody Shop also serves sandwiches and a few hot items.) Hey, if some guy wants burned brats, I think I can handle it.

        Ms. Sandman quickly explains the customer doesn't want his brats burned — he just prefers his sausage dark and crusty. After Ms. Sandman helps me put on those cursed clear plastic sanitary gloves (climbing into these things isn't as easy as it looks), we select brats of the proper shade. Then, it's only a matter of microwaving them until warm.

        I move fast and confidently on the sandwich board, and the owners are impressed. I hand the bratwursts to the gentleman and suggest he check to make sure they're dark enough. But he trusts me.

        My self-assurance is dashed, though, when Ms. Rush lets me wait on a customer at the drive-through window. The woman orders a blue raspberry slush for her young son and a chocolate cone for herself. Ms. Rush makes the fruity icy drink while I pull the cone.

        It begins as my best — tightly curled around the base of the cone, tapering to the top. Even Ms. Rush congratulates me — “Looking good, looking good. ...”

        But I let the ice cream climb too high and it flops over, onto the floor. The customer sees this and laughs (bless her heart), and Ms. Rush calls in Jake Sandman — Carol's husband and also a trainee — to pull the cone. Mr. Sandman produces a perfect one, and Ms. Rush praises him.

CHUCK'S NEXT "QUEST"

This is the third part of a continuing series, “Quest with the Best,” in which food writer Chuck Martin learns while he works with a food professional.     Now, here's your chance to tell him which food job he should take on next. Make it easy — and nothing dangerous, please. Send ideas to Food Quest, Cincinnati Enquirer, 312 Elm St., Cincinnati 45202; fax: 768-8330; e-mail: cmartin@enquirer.com.

        Show-off.

        Back in the kitchen, away from the action, the owners agree that the ice cream business is pleasant for the most part. Aside from firing inept cone-makers, I guess.

        “Most people who buy ice cream are happy,” Ms. Tenhundfeld says.

        But they do have a couple of complaints about customers.

        No. 1: Make up your mind!

        “You'd be surprised,” Ms. Sandman says. “People will sit there in the drive-through staring at the menu, but when they get to the window they still don't know what they want.”

        Then there are those (some might call them “weasels”) who try to return ice cream cones — because they change their mind about the flavor, or because they drop the cones on the pavement.

        “Sometimes, if they see a trainee make a cone, they'll ask me to make them another one,” Ms. Rush says, eyeing me with a restrained grin.

        To my relief, her work shift soon ends. After Ms. Rush leaves, I go back to the vanilla soft-serve machine to give it one more shot — with no one looking over my shoulder. Slowly, I fill the small cone, guiding the stream of ice cream to the top. The owners applaud my best effort of the day. This one, I eat.

        Too bad the drill sergeant wasn't there to critique it.

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