Sweet nostalgia: why the ice cream brands of communist Russia are still a hot favourite

It would be wrong to say that Soviet ice cream is back in style — in fact it has never been unpopular. From flavours and shapes to package design, it has been a safe bet from the communist era to the overstocked chill cabinets of the post-Soviet supermarket. There is stakanchik, a cup-shaped wafer filled with vanilla or chocolate ice cream or fruit and berry sorbet, sold in paper cups and handy to eat while you walk. A bit more challenging to consume without making a mess is eskimo, vanilla ice cream in a thin chocolate shell that comes on a stick, and lakomka, a barrel-shaped piece of vanilla ice cream wrapped in a thick layer of frozen whipped chocolate cream, melting and dripping everywhere on a hot summer day. The slab-like briket, usually a single-flavoured ice cream like vanilla or chocolate, wrapped in paper, was meant to be eaten at home. Sakharniy rojok, a Cornetto-like cone, was another Soviet favourite, slightly less popular now thanks to the abundance of fancier brands with different flavours and fillings.

The only problem with the ice creams was that most of them were not widely available outside Moscow and St Petersburg, and even there you had to queue up for your rojok for a long time. Lakomka was sold exclusively in Moscow, and those lucky enough to try it composed elaborately detailed accounts of what it tasted like, that spread like urban legends.

Despite the nostalgia that surrounds it, Soviet ice cream still has its critics. There are those with few kind words for the taste and consistency of some of the more affordable varieties: the berry sorbet and the molochnoye, for instance, which, critics say, are “frozen into a solid tasteless icicle” and “smell like a wet paper cup”. The ice creams that escape criticism, the lakomkas and plombirs that are still praised by the majority, were nevertheless the unicorns of the Soviet ice cream industry — extremely rare and difficult to encounter in the wild. Even more widely available types were still only eaten on special occasions or in situations of unexpected luck. In a way, this explains the powerful nostalgia that continues to clings to them. Ultimately the pleasure of Soviet ice cream is rooted less in taste, quality or the technology of production than in the childhood memories of carefree summer days and festive walks in the park on public holidays.

Today Soviet ice creams which have remained largely unchanged in packaging and taste since the Cold War, sit next to pricy Movenpicks and Haagen Dazs in shiny capitalist refrigerators. Yet they still manage to out-sell those western brands. The nostalgia-driven affection for the old deserts doesn’t look like fading anytime soon. In fact it might actually expand if EU sanctions and the Russian government’s import restrictions and push for patriotic food continues. Should that be the case, ice cream might not be the only thing from the Soviet era that’s back on the menu.