This New Year Have A Scoop Of Bubbly

This week I reached out for a scoop of Black Tie Bubbly Sorbet at Baskin-Robbins.

Here’s the blueprint, straight from the label on the freezer: “Elegant black currant sorbet dancing with a delightful champagne sorbet. A fabulous addition to your holiday festivities.”

Black tie? Bubbly? Dancing? Champagne?

Hey, just a minute! This sorbet has a better social life than I do!

Total calories: 140. Fat grams: 0. Manufacturer’s suggested retail price: $1.50 per scoop (waffle cones slightly higher).

Normally I run for the hills at the mere mention of “fat free.” They ought to say “taste free.” But since this is the holiday season, I decided to try Baskin-Robbins’ year-ending specialty.

In fairness, I’m usually a Ben & Jerry’s guy, a fully loaded ice cream freak. The richer and creamier and fudgier, the better. And then throw some whipped cream (the real thing only) and a cherry on top.

I don’t do frozen yogurt. I don’t do sherbet. I don’t do sorbet.

I’m not even sure what sorbet is, except I know that it packs half the calories of ice cream and snobby gourmets eat it between courses to “cleanse their palates.” Why don’t they go all the way and whip out some floss, too?

Naturally, the Drive-Thru Gourmet doesn’t require between-course palate cleansing. When would I eat the sorbet? Between my first Double Whopper and my second Double Whopper?

Black Tie Bubbly is a red-and-white frozen swirl. It has the consistency of Italian ice, like they sell on the boardwalk in New Jersey. The sorbet has a too-sweet, sticky, fruity flavor suspiciously like a strawberry Slurpee.

As for the champagne, don’t worry, it’s perfectly nonalcoholic. Baskin-Robbins doesn’t have a bouncer at the front door carding people. Teen-agers can leave their fake IDs at home. And nobody has to get stuck with Butter Pecan because he’s the designated driver.

Black Tie Bubbly has a chilly, brittle texture, like most nondairy ice cream wannabes. Ice cream gets even more delicious when it melts just a little. Sorbet just becomes a slushy puddle.

Even blindfolded, you can pick out real ice cream every time. Each lick is a soft, silky caress.

With sorbet, your tongue gets rattled by stubbly ice crystals. It’s like when your grandfather used to kiss you on the cheek, after bragging how he used the same razor for three months without changing blades.

On the subject of being rubbed the wrong way, here’s my chief complaint about Baskin-Robbins: The guy in front of me always gets a bigger scoop than I do. (Oh, like you don’t compare everybody else’s portions in restaurants?)

Some salespeople at Baskin-Robbins dig down deep with their scooper and practically bring up a mountain of ice cream. Meanwhile, the guy serving me puts a chintzy golf ball-sized scoopette on my cone. He might as well give me one of those pink sample spoons.

I have a feeling the guy serving me is the store owner. xxxx