Yes, you read that right.
Breast milk ice cream.
It’s here and here to stay. Courtesy of Matt O’Connor and The Icecreamist in London’s Covent Garden. They’re calling this particular flavour of ice cream Baby Gaga. It’s served in a martini glass and costs a nipple tightening £14 a shot.
Now, I must admit that I’ve always wondered what breast milk tastes like. If the way babies gulp it down is anything to go by, it must taste very nice indeed. I must have known that once. But then I was a baby.
Mother nature built a defense mechanism into babies. They will spit out anything that tastes disgusting or bitter or sour as it’s likely to be poisonous. But I’ve never been curious enough about the taste of breast milk to make a special effort to seek it out. Not since I came off the breast as a baby at any rate. I was going to leave it to idle curiosity.
I still won’t make a special effort to go down to the Icecreamist to taste it. Certainly not at those prices although I will probably want an ice cream if I just happened across the Icecreamist on a summer’s day. I’m intrigued by many people’s knee-jerk, disgusted reaction to breast milk ice cream though. Why should the notion cause such extreme reactions? Why did Westminster Council swoop in to seize the stuff from the Icecreamist shop back in March after two whole complaints from members of the public only to have to admit it was safe a week later?
Most of us have enjoyed breast milk at one time in our lives. I dare say that there are many people who still enjoy breast milk well into their dotage. I hear that it is very good for people with cancer and helps counteract the effects of chemotherapy.
So far, so organic, so natural. I’m not disgusted by it but I still go, eh? Do we really need this? Or is this some kind of publicity whore mongering on the part of Matt O’Connor? But then again, why not?
You can probably tell I’m ambivalent about it all.