If any good news is emerging from the economic meltdown, it's that small-business owners are scaling back the sky-high expectations of the previous generation. Across the country, from venture capitalists doling out smaller chunks of financing to dotcoms sticking fewer pins in their world-domination maps, people seem to be thinking smaller.
In the local dining universe, the analog might be the sudden and delicious influx of small niche eateries, from taco trucks to juice bars to yogurt shops. Across the city, sole proprietors are starting small and serving a limited roster of products—the better to reach an audience that has dialed back its spending, and now searches for bright spots of value and quality.
One particularly refreshing example of the new moderation is Nashville's unseasonable storm of snowballs. Not the grainy-ice, drippy paper cones from bygone days at Fair Park and the Italian Street Fair, but bright-flavored, tongue-tickling cold confections that live in a semisolid state between juice and Popsicle. This breed of snowball hailed originally from Japan and made its way to the South via a Texas State Fair in the early 20th century.
After that, snowballs became associated primarily with the Big Easy but made their way to other parts of the country. Somehow or other, though, the phenomenon of fluffy shaved ice bathed in myriad playful flavors—from wedding cake to Tiger's Blood—missed Nashville, where we made do with frozen ball bearings and a Crayola-colored cast of flavors best described as Red, Blue and Green.
Seeing a hole in the market, a handful of snowball makers have stepped in to fill the void. Along the way, they have created the defining treat of summer '09 in Nashville.
The Jolly Rogue
1106-A Woodland St.
Noon to 7 p.m. daily
As if sucked into the gravitational pull of another nearby mobile vendor, I Dream of Weenie, siblings Philip Becker and Liz Stuhlreyer have parked a pushcart in front of Art & Invention Gallery in East Nashville. There they scoop up "Sneaux Balls," a Cajun play on Louisiana State University's "Geaux Tigers" cheer. Having lost everything in Hurricane Katrina and a subsequent fire, Becker moved to be with Stuhlreyer, a music-industry veteran and longtime Nashvillian.
In the long run, the pair hope to expand their seasonal business to a year-round storefront with coffee and beignets. For now, they're pretty much responsible for the East Nashville Sound—a constant click-click-click of plastic spoons on shaved ice, heard as folks wander the sidewalks of Five Points stirring their jewel-toned frosty confections.
The process starts with a Brico Block-sized portion of ice, which gets slotted into the stainless-steel ice shaver. Becker gins up the machine, which spits out an airy drift of snow into a Styrofoam cup. He then drizzles the snow with any of 50 sugar-based syrups. The straightforward recipes cost $2, $3 or $4, depending on size. For a dollar more, the signature Sneaux Balls incorporate sweetened condensed milk or evaporated milk to create flavors such as Orange Julius (orange, vanilla and evaporated milk), Frog in a Blender (kiwi, watermelon and condensed milk) and the decadent Pink Flamingo (coconut, evaporated milk and "nectar"—a traditional flavor from the bygone New Orleans-based K&B Drug Store).
Or tell Becker you want what Art & Invention gallery owner Meg McFadyen is having. The diminutive artist can be found chatting with the Jolly Rogue just outside her front door while she sips on a dark concoction of shaved ice, chicory coffee and her own dreaded protein drink. "He makes what once tasted like chalk into a treat," she says.
Fleur de Lis Flavors
Nashville Farmers' Market, 351-6109
10:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. daily
Tanisha and Byron Hall started as a mobile vendor selling snowballs from a bright-green trailer at the Southern Festival of Books, Music City Hot Chicken Festival and other outdoor events. This year, they shed their training wheels and set up shop in the Farmers' Market, where their brilliant green-and-gold shop is a focal point of the renovated Market Hall. Tanisha imports the flavor concentrates from her hometown of New Orleans, using them to mix a rainbow of snowballs from strawberry cheesecake to grape. The magic of the snowballs is that the flaky ice slowly melts into a fine-textured slushie, infused with intense flavors. So while you might throw out the bottom two-thirds of a pellety snow cone, you'll savor every sip of a snowball—as does a clientele that ranges from state office workers to kids still wet from the Bicentennial Mall fountains. Along with icy confections—including several sugar-free varieties—Fleur de Lis serves pralines and roasted nuts and offers catering.
The Snowball Stand
21st Avenue and Acklen
TheSnowballStandNashville@gmail.com
11 a.m. to 6 p.m. weekdays except Wednesday,
10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday
Why Didn't I Think Of That Dept.: Kelly McGonigal pulled up a twee blue pushcart, a sun umbrella and a metal table with two chairs at the corner of 21st and Acklen—and instantly became the talk of Hillsboro Village. Ask the nearby merchants if you can come in and shop while you eat your snowball, and they'll say "Yes" if they know what's good for them. The frosty, fruity cups have a way of slowing things down and making you want to sit a spell or stroll the brick sidewalks, popping in and out of the quirky boutiques.
A teacher at a nearby preschool, McGonigal checks in and out during the day, leaving the stand in the capable hands of a friendly team who shape and drizzle cones in flavors such as S'mores, chocolate cherry and margarita. Clearly in touch with her inner child—or at least her tiny students—McGonigal even has a roster of flavors named for the likes of Batman (blue raspberry) and Dora the Explorer (strawberry, piña colada and banana). Show up on your birthday with a valid ID, and you'll get a free birthday cake-flavored snowball with a candle. Of the perfect score from the health department affixed to her ice machine, McGonical says, "I'm so proud of that A-plus!" Spoken like a true educator.
A menu-cum-bulletin board packed with announcements, articles and a paper camera (take your photo, and the Snowball girls will post your mug on their Facebook page) brings an endearing sense of community to her corner of the Shell station parking lot. McGonigal imported the idea for a snowball stand from her home state of Maryland, where the icy treat is a popular tradition. Her ice-shaving machine grinds cubes instead of mammoth blocks of ice, and the result is a slightly more coarse and less snowy texture than some others. So here's a helpful hint: Look for recipes that include "snocreme." The thick blend of vanilla and condensed milk—found in banana split, Neopolitan and Dreamsicle—makes for a thicker, more substantial treat, perfect for window shopping or a summer stroll during a sunny lunch break.
So enjoy Nashville's snowfall while it lasts. That's more than we can say for our winters.
Email cfox@nashvillescene.com, or call 615-844-9408.
