Some tastes hit you like a lightning bolt to the heart. For me, it’s the lemon ice cream from Memish and Sons in Slatina, Romania, where my family and I just stopped by to relive my childhood obsession. I grew up in Slatina. This Albanese ice cream shop was the ultimate treat to all of us, kids or adults.
Since 1912, this shop — born from Albanian ancestors who landed in Slatina in the 1700s — has dished out strawberry, chocolate, vanilla, and that unbeatable lemon. I noticed they added a peanut butter flavor recently, as well as Oreo and Snickers. I don’t care for these new flavors. I am here for the ice cream of my childhood, the original flavors.
Folks swear it’s Romania’s longest-running private business. I say, after 113 years, it’s at least the tastiest.
The Memish family’s story is wilder than a soap opera. Their great-great-grandpappy, nicknamed “The Albanian Athlete” after winning a 1912 Slatina contest, snagged a cash prize and donated it right back to the town like a total legend. That generosity still flavors their ice cream, served with lemonade so perfect it deserves its own fan club. But their other drink, braga? That fermented millet drink tastes like a prank gone wrong. As a kid, I’d rather sip dishwater. Even now, I steer clear while others inexplicably chug it.
During Romania’s Communist era, from 1948 to 1989, the regime tried to crush Memish and Sons. They flat-out refused to give them a phone line for a decade, forcing the family to run their shop with carrier pigeons (not literally). Yet, the Memish crew kept churning, guarding their recipes like a state secret. Only family is allowed in the kitchen. Buying a cone was like sticking it to the Man, one lick at a time. I’d clutch my strawberry scoop, feeling like a tiny rebel with a sugar high.
Famous folks have swung by, too. Former U.S. Ambassador to Romania, James Rosapepe, stopped by during his tenure in the country. Romanian writers like Ion Luca Caragiale, Ion Minulescu, and Eugen Ionescu (the latter two with roots in Slatina) also came to indulge.
Soccer star Gheorghe Hagi arrived for a cone. Former French President Charles de Gaulle savored a scoop, likely pondering world affairs over vanilla. Their visits cement Memish and Sons as a global ice cream icon. The staff scoops and smiles, but only family touches the magic behind those flavors.
Every time I return to Slatina, I’m that kid again, cone in hand, the world all sugar and sunshine. It’s not just ice cream; it’s a time machine, a middle finger to oppression, and a hug from home.
On this trip, my kids dove into their own cones, eyes wide with lemon-fueled joy.
That lemonade? Still the best I’ve ever had. Braga? Hard pass — sorry, not sorry. When I grab a scoop of Memish ice cream, I feel like the luckiest kid alive all over again. If you ever find yourself in Slatina, hit up Memish and Sons. Just don’t tell them I trashed the braga.
