Ben & Jerry's Is Creating Out-Of-The-Pint Innovations That Look Nothing Like Its Original Scoops
Ten minutes into my trip to South Burlington, VT, I quickly admit the only thing I know about the state are clichés. I'm sitting shotgun on my way to the Ben & Jerry's headquarters, and to her credit, my makeshift tour guide (a.k.a the company publicist who scooped me up from the airport) doesn't totally debunk them. There really are more cows than people here!
But it's also not the only rumor proved true. For its tiny size, the Green Mountain State (also cliché, also true), is known for many things. Resident tree tappers really do know how to make a mean maple syrup, and, yes, you really can taste the difference in that grade-A butter and cheese. Perhaps the fact that locals tout most proudly, though, is that the state is home to one of America's most beloved ice creameries: Ben & Jerry's.
With plenty of gumption and the know-how from a $5 ice cream course at Penn State, Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield opened up their first scoop shop in a rehabbed gas station in 1978. Two years later, there was enough demand to start distributing pints. The pair soon took over an old mill nearby to use as their factory, and the rest was, as they say, history.
You probably know the brand for those pints—the ones you've picked up from the supermarket after a break-up or a late night out, to celebrate a birthday or in the name of "self care." But I'm here in Vermont—with the cows and the maple syrup and the grade-A dairy—to debunk the myth that that's all the brand is known for: pints and scoops.
For the past few months, the company has hosted a series of internal "chefmanship" challenges. Staffers from across departments are tasked with creating out-of-the-pint dishes inspired by a theme of their choosing. And while it's typically closed to the public, for their third presentation, Delight in the Details, Ben & Jerry's granted Delish an exclusive look into their test kitchen.
It was there that I saw the brand mission as about so much more than just making great ice cream. They're fostering an environment where staffers actually want to come to work. A place where creativity flows and ideas are encouraged. The great ice cream? It's just a byproduct of that.
I arrive at the office and quickly scarf down a few bites of salad, leaving more than enough room for this "flavor innovation experience." I know there's dessert coming, but what exactly that is, I have no clue. Everyone here has been instructed to think outside the pint, remember?
The building resembles an elementary school. It's decked out in bright colors and playful artwork, and there's a full-sized spiral slide near the entrance, which I obviously go down. I'm here for work, but this is an Insta moment if I've ever seen one. Before I even step foot inside, I imagine pints of ice cream on display everywhere; this is the Ben & Jerry's headquarters, after all. Once again, I'm proven correct. They're strewn across desks, in hallway freezers, on shelves. What I didn't expect—but was pleasantly surprised by—was the HQ's pet-friendly policy. Golden retrievers and French bulldogs abound, and naturally, I pet as many as possible before I'm pulled towards the kitchen.
While I'm still a little unsure what is being made, I do know why it's getting whipped up. Ben & Jerry's resident flavor guru Eric Fredette (yes, that's his actual title), who's worked on the product development team for 24 years, says the company is looking to inspire creativity—to generate new ideas and ignite some competitive spirit throughout the office.
"The goal has been to energize, to pass on some chefmanship skills to the folks around here, to create some excitement, and to add a little levity," he says. "I know it looks like we don't have real jobs, but we all do. We just have a lot of fun doing it."
Nearly the entire office piles into the small on-site kitchen. I'm surrounded by the company's best and brightest: those responsible for the label designs that wrap around their iconic pints, the folks who share those crave-able scoops to social media, the ones who develop each recipe. We gather around the counter where Fredette gives a short but sweet speech. This event isn't a competition nor is it necessarily about brainstorming sellable treats. The focus, he clarifies, is about shaking things up and breathing a little life back into the kitchen.
Then the first team parades in the event's debut creation: a s'mores-inspired spumoni dessert designed with four senses in mind. That's the details aspect, the group announces. (Reminder: The theme here is Delight in the Details.) We're smelling the toasted marshmallows and seeing the spun sugar. There's texture all throughout, too, with marshmallow, waffle, and three kinds of ice cream: pistachio, Cherry Garcia, and Phish Food.
Next up, we've got a four-part spread. The second team has created a day- and night-themed drink-dessert combo. They've made a bright, sunny trifle with ginger biscuits, lemon curd, and ginger whipped cream and a moodier one with ginger biscuits, blackberry jam, and basil whipped cream. The real show-stopper though? A color-changing lemonade. The evening version is the same but with vodka. Everyone oohs and aahs because who doesn't love an afternoon booze break?
When the third team carts in a tray of takeout boxes, we're floored. The adorable Thai-inspired containers are filled with golden ice cream. It's got "a lot of layers of flavor," the group boasts, with cardamom spices, coconut, and nutmeg. Naturally, they've topped the scoops with chopsticks and a fortune cookie.
For the finale, I'm expecting something big. I am correct (...If I leave here with one takeaway, it's that in Vermont, everything I assume is true is, in fact, true.) Not only is the trio of cheesecake-inspired treats unexpectedly savory, but they are all also glowing in the dark. I go in on the violet cheese dip.
Everyone goes around, revealing their favorite (mine was the lemon curd confection, with the boozy color-changing lemonade coming in second), and everyone pitches in for clean-up. I wander around the kitchen as dishes are piled into the sink and am unapologetic about my attempts to eavesdrop on the team's post-event debriefs. The consensus? Everyone is obsessed with what's gone on here today.
Though it's obvious this isn't their typical work day, I do get the sense that maybe a typical work day doesn't exist here.
Unilever, the global consumer goods company that acquired Ben & Jerry's back in the early 2000s, has been pushing this concept of chefmanship for a while. In fact, it's sort of a core value. "For our brand, I believe culinary skill contributes to authenticity of the experience," Fredette explains. "We take your favorite food memory and translate that to ice cream. The flavor, texture, and color all need to be as real and memorable as the original."
But it was after they invited a few folks from the office to play around in the kitchen and workshop ideas for new products that the brand's director of research and development, Ran Harel, requested more of these creative exercises. "He saw the first sort of thing that we did and was like, 'This is amazing. I want you to do 12 of these this year," Fredette says with a laugh. That's how this whole chefmanship thing started.
That's not to say, though, that Ben & Jerry's was resting on its laurels—or rather, its pints and scoops. There was the Candy Bar Pie in 2014, the Salted Caramel Brown-ie Ale of 2015, the Snackable Cookie Dough Chunks that hit freezers this year. These exercises are just a new way of flexing a tired muscle and an opportunity to invite employees that aren't normally in the kitchen into it.
"It used to be, 'Come up with flavors of ice cream for pints,'" Fredette tells me. "But we do that every day—a lot—and this chefmanship thing gives us an outside-of-the-pint sort of experience."
This means the food team's usual rules don't apply. With this barrier-free zone, they're able to zero in on trends and find ways to make those work under the Ben & Jerry's guidelines later. They're learning how to make real food with real textures, real flavors, and real colors. Before this "Delight in the Details" theme, there were "Colorful" and "Share-worthy."
"We only use natural [ingredients], so our line tends to be off-white to dark brown and every shade in-between," Fredette says of their go-to hues. The challenges provide ways to navigate around that; to try new out new ingredients and techniques without stressing about the nitty gritty of getting it to production. Former events, during which employees churned out amazing sundaes and freakshakes, "really set the bar" for scoop shop dishes.
"It's very Ben & Jerry's," Fredette continues. "There are no restrictions on these. [The staff] picks their topic, and I don't tell them what they can and can't do. So the sky's the limit. [They're] off leash."
I'm back in New York later that night, and a few days later, I hop on a call with Fredette to rehash everything. I ask if we're the only ones still gushing about those glow-in-the-dark cheesecakes and Thai takeout boxes. We're not.
"Everyone has grown," he says of the experience. "We had a meeting after the presentation and one of my colleagues in R&D was telling our VP that not only does he get to have a little fun, it's created excitement. It's energized him to be more creative day-to-day in what he does for Ben & Jerry's."
The session—and ones past—inspired real ideas that Ben & Jerry's is actually hoping to take public. And while that's certainly the end goal for each of the 12 exercises, it's not the only goal. Most items likely won't make it to your grocery store. Instead, the company is using this opportunity to spark something...anything! Whether, ultimately, that results in a profitable idea or simply stirs up a little office camaraderie, they don't know.
"People are excited. People are talking about it," Fredette says. "When they walk by the window, they look in. The building has a little buzz right now, and I think that's good. If it's energizing everyone even a little bit with anticipation...that's a good thing."
Meanwhile, back in Manhattan, more than 300 miles from the Ben & Jerry's headquarters, I'm still hoping to mosey on past my local scoop shop and spot those lemon curd trifles one day. A girl can dream.
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