Asked on every hot Saturday:
Will it survive the walk home?
Pints leave in a lined paper bag that keeps them firm for forty minutes. Going further? Ask for a block of dry ice at the till. It’s free, and it fizzes.
So what happens before noon?
Melty is a twelve-seat parlour on Example Street. Every morning we cook whatever the market had into twelve small batches, and when a tub is scraped clean, that flavour is done until next year.
Twelve tubs behind the glass, five of them new this week. When one is scraped clean, it is gone until the fruit comes back next year.
Cups, cones and pintsVictoria plums from Marta’s orchard, cooked down with one bay leaf from the allotment. Tart first, then jammy.
Whole pistachios ground into the milk the night before, a pinch of sea salt at the end. Tastes green in the best way.
Heather honey from the Okafor hives, taken just past caramel so it turns a little bitter. Our oldest recipe.
Seventy per cent chocolate with toasted rye crumbs from the bakery next door. It’s oat milk underneath, so everyone can have it.
Curd stirred by hand, folded through a thyme cream in ribbons. Bright enough to wake you up on a grey afternoon.
Before you’re up, we’re at it.
Stall 14 keeps the ripest, ugliest fruit aside for us. Ugly is sweeter.
Milk from Hollow Lane, warmed with the fruit or nuts until it smells like the flavour should.
One small machine, six litres at a time, twelve runs before eleven.
Two hours at minus fourteen so it scoops clean. Then the shutter goes up.
Asked on every hot Saturday:
Pints leave in a lined paper bag that keeps them firm for forty minutes. Going further? Ask for a block of dry ice at the till. It’s free, and it fizzes.
Asked by a very polite eight-year-old:
Always at least four. Our sorbets are fruit, sugar and water, nothing else, and the oat-milk chocolate runs on its own churn on Tuesdays and Fridays so nothing crosses over.
Asked every week in May:
Up to twenty of you on weekday afternoons. Everyone gets a tasting flight of six, and the birthday person names a scoop for the board. Book a week ahead, right here.
Same price for every flavour, always.
In a cup, or in a cone we baked this morning.
£3.20
Two flavours, or the same one twice. We won’t judge.
£5.40
Comes with a second spoon whether you ask or not.
£7.20
Packed to order in a lined bag, any two flavours.
£9.50
A litre and a half, three flavours side by side.
£17
Toppings, 80p each: hot fudge · brown butter crumbs · sea salt flakes · toasted hazelnuts · rye crunch
Tasting spoons are free. Ask for two.
Their field
Your cone
Everything in the freezer comes from people we can walk or cycle to. These are the neighbours in this week’s tubs.
Milk and double cream, at the door by five
Plums now, quince in November
Whatever is ripest and ugliest
Heather honey for the burnt honey
Bay, thyme, mint and lemon verbena
The rye crumbs in the chocolate
Flour for the cones we bake each morning
Cocoa nibs, roasted on Fridays
Two hours in the back kitchen with whoever made this week’s flavours. You pick fruit at the market stall, cook your own base, run the churn and take home the pint you made.
One delivery a month, picked by us from that week’s twelve. Collect it on your way home or we cycle it over in a cold bag. Skip a month whenever you like.
£11 a month
One pint of whatever is best that week.
Join solo£20 a month
Two pints: one fruit, one cream, never the same twice.
Join as a duo£36 a month
Four pints and a jar of our hot fudge for the shelf.
Fill my freezerThe plum one tastes like my nan’s gardenIris, here since the first summer
I came for one scoop and left with a pintDev, on a Tuesday
Best tasting spoons in town, and they mean twoHana, six spoons in
My son now says “ugly is sweeter”Paul, churn school dad
Burnt honey should be illegalAma, weekly regular
The dry ice made it to my sister’s, forty minutes awayLeo, tested it
Finally a dairy-free chocolate that isn’t sadSam, oat milk forever
We booked the birthday and nobody wanted to leaveNadia, mum of twins
Come and taste before you choose.
Ten minutes from the station, right by the lock. Twelve seats inside, a bench outside and a hatch for when it rains.
020 0000 0000 hello@melty.example