July was not a great month for lovers of ice cream in Brussels. Barring a few days of infernal heat, it was all gloom, wind and very un-ice-creamy rain. Walking down the street with a cone of happiness was often out of the question.
Still, summer means ice cream, whether you are in Brussels, Florence or Washington DC. You may have seen that noted gelato fan Joe Biden dropped out of the race for the White House on July 21, America’s National Ice Cream Day. And yes, of course there’s a European equivalent: March 24 is European Artisanal Gelato Day!
So I (sometimes solo, sometimes with willing co-eaters) embarked on the most challenging of all POLITICO’s summer stories — finding Brussels’ best ice cream!
Ranking parlors with sometimes wildly different offerings is not a straightforward exercise. Ordering the same flavors each time gives you a direct comparison, but risks overlooking the specialities of each place; only trying the venue’s unusual flavors, on the other hand, tells you little about whether the place can deliver the basics. Also, there are lots of places to get ice cream, and I didn’t go to them all!
Hence, a disclaimer: These ratings are based on metrics such as price, portion size, service, and of course taste, but they’re also heavily influenced by vibes, which are of course subjective. In other words, these are just guidelines, and you should definitely go out and eat as many ice creams as you can, from wherever you like.
The artist’s atelier: Gelateria Giotto Brussels
Rue Washington 152
Perhaps the most renowned ice cream parlor in Brussels, and arguably the best in Belgium, Giotto is a monument to sophistication.
Named after an Italian painter famed for drawing perfect circles freehand, Giotto’s flavors are mainstays of classic gelaterias: not just chocolate, stracciatella or zabaione, but gianduia (chocolate plus hazelnuts), malaga (custard with rum and raisins) and amarena (cherry and vanilla). All are perfectly executed. Giotto’s apricot is hands down the best flavor you’ll see mentioned in this article. (Vegan options are available.)
Yet, after waiting in line for 37 minutes, we wondered: Should it really be like this?
Whether it is a calculated bid for exclusivity or homespun disorganization, there is no excuse for running a much-loved parlor in a shoebox-sized venue, staffed by a couple who moved slowly and were quite unaware of which flavors had run out.
The “flavors running out” issue is another avoidable problem. We aren’t familiar enough with the trade to suggest just making more ice-cream; but we can suggest serving smaller portions. This is a Brussels-wide issue but Giotto is a perfect example: the ice creams are unwieldy. Walking around with a three-flavor cone is simply too difficult.
I can hear you scream: “Order a smaller ice-cream!” Reader, I’d love to but in Brussels, ice cream is sold by the scoop. You don’t buy a small, medium, or large ice-cream, but a one-scoop, two-scoop, or three-scoop one. Meaning:if you want to try more than one flavor — for instance, if you’re a food reviewer — you are forced into purchasing a stack of scoops. The system should be ditched in favor of size-based pricing. (That said, Giotto’s prices are not exorbitant: a three-scoop cone comes in at €8.50).
For all the above reasons, we cannot give Giotto full marks. It is a gourmet experience, but not a complete pleasure.
Rating: 
The open secret: Glacier Bargello
Place de la Liberté 5
If the topic of ice-cream ever comes up during your Brussels bubble convos, sooner or later someone will bring up Bargello. Most people consider this Italian gelato place in the quartier des Libertés as their little insider tip. It is not — but it is good.
A spin-off from a Luxembourgish parlor, Bargello occupies a medium-sized, wood-paneled venue on a bustling square, and it features outdoor seating. Its brand is, again, all about the Italian gelato tradition — specifically Florentine, from where its founder hails: the name is a nod to a historic bailiff’s palace in the Tuscan city.
The formula includes choice ingredients and venerable flavors — with cream-based flavors being decidedly more interesting than fruit-based ones. But it also leaves some space for creativity, such as with the Crema Bargello, a melange of mascarpone and coffee.
The quality is high and the price — €7.50 for a three-scoop cone— par for the course for Brussels (many of my fellow Italians have left angry online comments about being fleeced by the cost of ice cream in Brussels).
Service was smooth: even on a busy day, one is likely to get hold of a gelato within 10 minutes at worst. The servers, while not paragons of amiability, were swift and efficient; my only complaint was that one scoop was way smaller than the other two (and it was pistachio, my favorite).
Portions are generous but not overwhelming, and yours truly disposed of his ice-cream in a matter of minutes with no stains or spillages. Vegan options are plentiful.
Bargello’s sole minor blight is that it will not change your life. It is excellent ice cream, delivered professionally in a nice locale — but it is not memorable enough to live up to the hype.
Rating: 
The Thanos of ice cream parlors: Gaston
Place du Grand Sablon 8/9
Gaston — whose name will never stop reminding me of the tenor-voiced villain from Beauty and the Beast — is, like fellow comic book character Thanos, inevitable. Every blue book trainee worth their allowance hears about it within hours of setting foot in the Berlaymont.
That is due in equal part to Gaston’s ubiquitousness and its relative persistence. Launched in 2016, the brand boasts three parlors with outdoor seating across Brussels, two in the prime locations of Sablon and Sainte-Catherine, and has honed an unmistakable aesthetic mixing latter-day hipsterism, funfair color scheme, and winks to food connoisseurs.
The eight years’ worth of experience do show. Even on a busy Saturday afternoon we got hold of our cone within 10 minutes of getting in line. The harried servers managed to be both quick and helpful, providing plentiful tasters to the undecided. Some sloppiness did seep in, however: some ice-cream was added haphazardly on top of the cone, resulting in immediate risk of collapse — far from the relaxed dégustation the server herself had wished I would have.
Gaston’s ice cream comes in an impressive array of flavors, which either are experimental (banana, vanilla and sesame; matcha) or riff on classics via choice ingredients (Sao Tomé chocolate or Madagascan vanilla). Almost no flavor has a name shorter than two words, a pretentiousness that at times strays into silliness — for instance, “Iranian green pistachio”? Iran is the world’s second-largest producer of a nut that is invariably green.
That said, the creams are tasty, with a full-bodied feel that sets them aside from the silkier Italian-style gelato elsewhere in Brussels.
Prices are among the highest, at €3 per scoop and the possibility to add a €1.00 or 1.50 topping, which left a bitter taste in this reviewer’s mouth. Portions sort of justify the prices by dint of their Brobdingnagian size — but you already know what I think about that: it’s a minus, not a plus. These two flaws prevent us from awarding Gaston full marks.
Rating: 
The pistachio overlord: Miska
Rue des Bouchers 32
Smack in the midst of city-center hell, Miska is a necessary yet different take on Brussels’ ice cream culture. The venue, which has indoor seating, serves traditional Lebanese ice cream whose preparation includes ingredients — salep, mastic — that make it stretchy, vaguely gummy and harder to melt.
The offer is accordingly different from your run-of-the-mill parlor, featuring classic Middle Eastern flavor such as the Arabic pudding ashta, rose, and baklava. For an extra, the finished cone can be coated in pistachios and, wonder of wonders, topped with whipped cream.
Miska is blessed with one of the friendliest atmospheres we encountered during our ice cream journey in Brussels. Servers went out of their way to help customers navigate unfamiliar flavors, handing out taste testers left, right and center; it is also a fully bilingual parlor, with detailed signs in both English and French (but that might be due more to its touristy location than an act of kindness).
The ice cream itself is exquisite and surprising, quite unlike anything you’ll find in Brussels. Granted, that’s the place’s whole twist — but it is well-executed, and the pistachio-based flavors are a must-try.
All this, however, comes at a high price: a two-scoop cone costs €6.50, with cream and pistachio crumbs costing €1 each. Portions are again outrageously large; still, a trip to Miska is well worth it.
Rating:
The workhorse: Bisous
Rue du Bailli 35
This relaxed Châtelain eatery styles itself as the heir to the recipe book of Le Framboisier Doré, a hallowed parlor that used to occupy the same venue. In fact, Bisous wants to be much more: it is a brunch spot, a bakery, a coffee garden, and a peddler of matcha tonic. That it moonlights as an ice cream parlor is nice, but it feels a bit like one of many parts of a wider operation.
That is not to say that the ice cream isn’t good: whoever runs Bisous clearly has read that recipe book (although we doubt that Le Framboisier Doré left instructions on how to make matcha ice cream). Its ice creams leave a pleasant but soon-fading memory behind. The chocolate was good but unremarkable; the matcha — yes, we tried it — was spot-on, but lacked any frisson.
Where Bisous earns its points is on the price, service, and portions fronts. Getting an ice-cream was a cinch, and the server smiled all the time. The portions were, for once, humane, and the prices (one scoop €3; two scoops €5.50; three scoops €7.50) were reasonable. One vegan flavor was also available.
Bisous is not one of those parlors I’d recommend going out of your way to try (although the sit-down experience might be different, given the nice venue) but it is an ice cream that is worth trying if you are in the vicinity.
Rating:
The Salieri: Capoue
Rue de l’Aqueduc 117
A juggernaut with some 15 locations all across Belgium, Capoue has been going for 77 years.
We tried the Châtelain parlor, which is very much the Antonio Salieri to Giotto’s Mozart.
It made for an interesting experience: many of the people lining up to grab their cone seemed to have come here after finding the wait at Giotto — a short walk away — excessively long. Confronted with its neighbor’s hyped-up snobbery, Capoue emerged as a solid second choice, raking in the less patient of the area’s ice cream lovers.
Capoue is an honest ice cream maker, featuring a broad choice of cream-based flavors and fruit-based sorbets. It has sparkles of creativity, such as the mascarpone and the Ferrero Rocher flavors, mixed with cheeky nods to Belgian traditions such as Speculoos (Capoue’s forte) and Belgian chocolate. They are all competently crafted, and come with a complimentary waffle wafer. They’re not always placed on the cone with the required care. Over several trips to Capoue Châtelain over many months, I regularly risked having my (big, but thankfully not enormous) cone ditch its contents onto the pavement due to its questionable architecture. Once, I had to literally catch a scoop by hand mid-air and put it back on the cone.
Prices are fairly standard, with a three-scoop cone setting you back €7.50. Several vegan options are available.
Rating:
The natural: Les Dodi
Avenue d’Auderghem 50
This was always going to be a vibe-based review, so please bear with me as I award top marks to an ice cream parlor that is far less hyped than many other contenders. Because, yes, Les Dodi — an unassuming parlor with indoor seating just a few minutes away from the Schuman roundabout — is our top choice.
The selection of flavors is wide but not overwhelming, and cleaves mostly to the Italian gelato tradition, with few nice concessions to experimentation. The venue and service’s general tone is middlebrow, far from the hyper-discerning affectation of some ice cream ateliers. (It still features some vegan options).
We got a two-scooper with Roman cream and Piedmont hazelnuts and the flavors hit all the right spots: creamy, made with quality ingredients, distinctive. The portions were also a joy, being neither too large nor stingy, and with the different flavors getting an equal share of cone-space. The prices were a steal (by Brussels standards): a scoop is €2.50, two come for €3.50, three for €4.50 and — yes — four scoops cost €6. That’s a demonstration that getting portions right will help customers savor more flavors for less money.
A joy for the eye, the wallet, and the tastebuds.
Rating: 