Scene in Berlin

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! This hilarious scene from Jim Jarmusch's "Down by Law," in which Roberto Benigno, Tom Waits and John Lurie dance around their cell clamoring for the frozen treat and practically starting a riot, has been playing through my mind all summer.

On a sweltering day, it seems as if all of Berlin is screaming for ice cream: You can satisfy your desire for a popsicle or an ice cream bar in almost every bakery or kiosk.

At all the main train stations, you can indulge in a banana split or an iced coffee, which in Germany means several scoops of vanilla ice cream, a trickle of coffee and oodles of whipped cream. You will see children battling with humongous elaborate concoctions as parents glance nervously at the departures board.

From faludeh to gelato

But of course Berlin does not settle for mainstream. Multi-cultural city that it is, you can get Persian-style faludeh in Moabit (I loved the pistachio vanilla but wasn't entirely convinced by the vermicelli with lemon sauce) or red bean ice cream at the Vietnamese market in Lichtenberg.

At Inka Eis in Schöneberg you can choose from blue corn, tamarind or lemongrass and be instantly transported to another world. If you pop into a Russian supermarket, you can get an eskimo or caramel cone.

When I lived in St. Petersburg years ago, I was initially shocked to see people chomping on ice creams in sub-zero temperatures, but soon caught on to the practice. The limited choice of flavors harked back to the mono-cultural Soviet era - vanilla, chocolate or creme brulee. The latter was a far cry from the bistro favorite, but rather tasty in its own way. Still, when Russians would tell me proudly that their ice cream was the best in the world; I couldn't help but reminisce over Italian gelato.

My first gelato alla banana in Tuscany got me hooked on Italian food and language for life; and it was with this childhood memory in mind that I set off for the first of many Berlin gelateria offering everything from amaretto to zabaglione. "I'm so fussy about my ice cream, I never eat it in Berlin," a friend of mine who lived in Rome for years had warned. I thought she was a tad unfair, but I must admit nothing I tasted at any of Berlin's Italian parlors triggered such a sensation as I had experienced as an eight-year-old in Florence.

Fresh lime, walnut-fig and strawberry-basil

No, today the most impressive ice cream in this town is being made by Germans, in the hipster neighborhoods. At Kreuzberg's extremely popular Vanille and Marille, the queue was so long it seemed it would take an hour at least to get served. I didn’t intend to wait but I did peruse the list of flavors - fresh lime, walnut-fig, lemon-cinnamon (!?) and then I spotted caramel beurre sale - my favorite flavor in France. No doubt about it - I had to get in line. After what felt like a whole lifetime, I placed my order for a scoop. "We just ran out," the waiter said dispassionately. "No!" I screamed, temporarily forgetting my age and manners.

Indeed, that's what ice cream does to you - it plunges you back to a time when this iced delight was the most important part of your day. Just a lick reminds me of those early summer afternoons when school wasn't quite out and "Greensleeves" would sound in the distance. As soon as we rushed out of class, the ice cream van would be waiting for us to order a 99 flake or orange lolly that would turn our tongues a bright carrot shade for days. Heaven!

With a bitter taste in my mouth, instead of the delightful combination of salty caramel, I cycled to the next trendy ice cream cafe on my list. Rain or shine, Fräulein Frost in Neukölln is always packed. The cinnamon was to die for and the tangy rhubarb had me screaming for more. An acquaintance I bumped into recommended getting three flavors at once - "otherwise what's the point in having a cone?"

"This place is great," he said with the air of a connoisseur, "and you have to try the strawberry-basil and pineapple-mint for sure." He also recommended I check out the Eismanufaktur a couple of blocks away. "They even have vegan chocolate sorbet!"

Vegan, lactose-free and organic

"Vegan" is the operative word. In these health-conscious times, Berlin's trendiest parlors are catering to all those gourmets who have particular dietary requirements. At Tanne B for instance, there is not only an array of standard flavors - naturally, home-made and organic - but also a whole selection of lactose-free ice cream, as well as fruit sorbets and soya shakes that knock your socks off.

Although it's hard to believe that ice cream could ever go out of fashion in this hedonistic city, there is a new craze for frozen yoghurt that threatens to provide a bit of competition. For the purposes of scientific accuracy, I paid a visit to a couple of the new shops cropping up left, right and center.

Nothing to scream home about, I thought. And can you picture Roberto Benigno from the land of gelato starting a jail riot over yoghurt? I don't think so…

Anne Thomas thinks chocolate sorbet is the new vanilla ice cream.

Editor: Kate Bowen