Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Factory, Waterbury, Vermont

...the milk used to make Ben & Jerry's ice cream; they're lucky, because Ben & Jerry's insists that its farmers pledge not to treat their cows with rBGH, or recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone. Instead, these fortunate creatures are forced to rely on the green, green grass of home for their nourishment and development, just as Mother Nature intended.

That was just one of the many snippets of information we came back with after taking the ...
...had, like most of the Ben and Jerry's employees, worked at the factory for a number of years, with those with a flair for communication and presentation being given the task of showing the company's loyal consumers how their favourite dairy product is made. An oversized and very loud cowbell was rung to signal the start of the tour, and Blair motioned us towards a door which led to a staircase up to the mezzanine floor, and the inner sanctum of the ... more

There are a lot of cows in Vermont. Indeed, rumour has it that the cows outnumber the people in the Green Mountain State, so when you consider that according to US Census figures, there were 623,050 humans living in Vermont in 2005, that makes for an enormous number of cows. Yet unemployment in the bovine community is practically non-existent. Whether it's gracing an oversized dinner-plate in one of Vermont's numerous steakhouses, or producing the milk used to make some of the state's finest cheeses and yoghurts, a cow is bound to find work of some kind. The lucky ones, the crème de la crème, as it were, get to work for the hundreds of family farms which provide the milk used to make Ben & Jerry's ice cream; they're lucky, because Ben & Jerry's insists that its farmers pledge not to treat their cows with rBGH, or recombinant Bovine Growth Hormone. Instead, these fortunate creatures are forced to rely on the green, green grass of home for their nourishment and development, just as Mother Nature intended.

That was just one of the many snippets of information we came back with after taking the Ben & Jerry's ice cream factory tour during the summer. The tour takes place in the company's original manufacturing plant in Waterbury, Vermont, built in 1985, and which remains a working factory today. Waterbury is a smallish town a few miles south of Stowe, in northern Vermont, and the factory is situated on Route 100; it's set back a little from the road, but it's impossible to miss by virtue of the grinning black and white wooden cow perched strategically on the grass verge at the entrance to the factory site.

You don't have to take the tour of course; it's perfectly acceptable to while away a hot summer's afternoon by sitting beneath one of the brightly-coloured parasols outside the building and indulging in a spot of people-watching while sampling some of the delicious flavours on offer at the on-site scoop-shop. Given, however, the very small fee of $3 for adults and nothing at all for children, it would have been miserly not to have taken advantage of the opportunity to realise what must be every child's dream, to be allowed inside an ice cream factory. Besides which, there was the promise of a free sample included in the tour fee, so the decision was made.

The factory is open every day of the year except Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Days; although I'm not sure I'd relish the prospect of eating ice cream during a Vermont winter, when the temperature can languish below freezing point for weeks on end. Nevertheless, it's there if you want it, as they say. After parking the car in the first of two free car-parks, we went inside and bought our tickets for the tour. The tours, which last about thirty minutes, take place every ten minutes during peak season, with each group of around twenty visitors being shown around the factory conveyor belt-style, rather like the tubs of ice cream we had come to see being made.

Our guide was Blair, a jovial chap who had, like most of the Ben and Jerry's employees, worked at the factory for a number of years, with those with a flair for communication and presentation being given the task of showing the company's loyal consumers how their favourite dairy product is made. An oversized and very loud cowbell was rung to signal the start of the tour, and Blair motioned us towards a door which led to a staircase up to the mezzanine floor, and the inner sanctum of the production area. Those who were unable to negotiate the stairs, taking the lift instead, could justifiably claim discrimination, not on the grounds of disability, but simply because they had been deprived of viewing the excellent cow-themed mural painted on the staircase walls.

Our first stop was at the Cow over the Moon theatre, in reality, a small windowless room with stepped seating, where we were to watch a seven minute film (or Moo-vie) as Blair put it, on the history of the Ben & Jerry's brand. The film told how Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, two "regular guys" from New York who had been friends since childhood, dropped out of college, paid $5 for a correspondence course on ice cream-making, and went on to form one of the United States' fastest growing and most successful enterprises. While I don't doubt for one moment that the story is true, it is, of course, the stuff that dreams are made of, and perhaps it's as well that every failed university student didn't have the same idea, or most of us would have been carted off to the nearest cardiac unit long ago.

Contributing to the film were a number of the pair's former colleagues and employees, many of them with an amusing anecdote about how disorganised both were in the early days, which makes their success story seem all the more remarkable. Both men have very high ethics in terms of the environment, the local community and the welfare of their employees (if indifferent to the problem of obesity, perhaps), and they insisted on incorporating those praiseworthy views into the company's operations, more about which can be found on the Ben & Jerry's website. Since selling out to Unilever in 2000, Ben & Jerry no longer play an active role in the company, but the social mission continues and both can often be seen at official scoop-shop openings, or supporting environmental campaigns across America. The film was quite entertaining and oddly enough, not overly sycophantic, and at seven minutes in duration, it was probably just about the right length, particularly for the young children in the group.

Then it was on to the viewing gallery, where we watched the production team in action. We were immediately struck by the attention to hygiene, with floors and work surfaces continually being washed down during our visit, giving any uninvited bacteria no chance at all of survival. As is the norm in this, the smaller of the two Ben & Jerry's factories in Vermont, two flavours were being produced that day - American Pie (which goes by the name of Oh My, Apple Pie over here), and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, a mouthful in every sense of the word.

We were guided through each of the manufacturing processes by Blair, aided by further footage on the screens above our heads, and we watched in fascination as armies of inverted ice cream tubs travelled along the various conveyor belts two-by-two, looking like Noah's animals must have done as they stepped onto the Ark. There's something inexplicably mesmerising about watching a production line in full swing; the satisfaction of seeing each of those tubs fall perfectly into place at each stage of the processing is almost therapeutic, until you find yourself willing one of them to fall off, throwing the whole operation into chaos, which is when you know it's time to move on.

We moved away from the viewing gallery and into the Flavo Room for our free samples. Blair urged a few seconds of reflective silence here, for it was in this very room that the quality control team used to carry out what is perhaps the most crucial part of the whole operation - the hallowed tasting. Here was where a day's work might have been declared wasted if the swirls and gobs (American for chunks) of whatever flavour was being made that week weren't up to scratch; where the direction of a man's thumb would determine whether the workers could sleep easily in their beds that night. Emerging from his reverie, Blair and his two enthusiastic "scoopgirls" handed us our much-anticipated samples of American Pie flavoured ice cream, and here it hit home just how much difference there is between American English and the original version. You see, "scoop" in American terminology translates to "small bucketful" in the Queen's English (not that Her Majesty would be common enough to speak of buckets, I'm sure), but you get my meaning.

If you've ever tasted Ben & Jerry's ice cream, you'll know that it's incredibly rich and creamy, and when the word "pie" is included in the title, that's exactly what you get - large chunks of real short-crust pastry, to complement the cinnamon-tinged flavour of the apple. It was the first time I'd tasted this particular flavour and three bucketfuls (sorry, scoops) later, since our two boys weren't keen, I began to regret that my British sense of politeness had prevented them from slipping their free helpings into the nearby bin. Fortunately, we had almost reached the end of our short, but interesting insight into the business of ice cream-making, and it was time to take a walk outside, in an attempt to work off those extra calories.

As we emerged into the scorching August sun, we remembered Blair's parting words reminding us not to forget to visit the "Flavor Graveyard". We trudged across the overflow car-park and over the hill to what could arguably be described as the very pinnacle of bad taste; for inside the white picket-fenced enclosure were mock gravestones dedicated to some of the ice cream flavours no longer in production. The atmosphere here was quite bizarre, with people meandering between the "graves", heads slightly bowed, and speaking in hushed tones as though this were a cemetery housing the remains of real people. Each headstone bears a little ditty explaining why the flavour was discontinued, and if I tell you that the Cool Britannia flavour (the name voted the winning entry in a competition open to the British public some years back) was given the chop because it tasted too English, you'll understand why we didn't linger too long in the valley of the dead desserts.

We made our way back to the factory building, past the assortment of marquees and booths selling drinks and other goodies, where in peak-season, various displays and shows are staged for the entertainment of younger visitors, and decided that we might just manage another helping of one of the many mouth-watering flavours on offer at the scoop-shop. Ben & Jerry's crossed the Atlantic in 1994 and while, some twelve years on, most of us are lucky if our local supermarket stocks more than three or four varieties, in the United States there are around fifty different flavours in production at any given time. With such original and inspired names as Vermonty Python, Berried Treasure, Karamel Sutra and Marsha Mellow on the list, one is overwhelmingly spoilt for choice, and you'll either swoon or feel rather queasy when you hear that the description of Chubby Hubby is "Fudge-covered peanut butter-filled pretzels in vanilla malt ice cream with fudge and peanut butter". My slightly less adventurous but nonetheless not-so-chubby husband opted for vanilla.

Before we left, we took a brief look around the small souvenir shop, which stocks the usual touristy items such as mugs, pencils, t-shirts and the like, variously adorned with images of black and white cows. The merchandise is, not unexpectedly, quite expensive, and aside from a couple of water bottles which the boys chose, costing around $4 each, we decide to give the remaining wares a miss. I'd bought a t-shirt on our first visit here twelve years ago, but two children and far too many helpings of Ben & Jerry's ice cream later, it no longer fits, sadly. As we left the building, we heard Blair rounding up another group of ice cream fans, urging them to "moo-ve along there", and I was instantly filled with admiration for a man who is able to deliver the same pun-filled lines dozens of times each day, while still managing to make it sound as though it's something he's just thought of.

If you like ice cream or frozen yoghurt (incidentally, all Ben & Jerry's products are suitable for vegetarians, although not, of course, for vegans), and if you're ever in Vermont, a visit to Ben & Jerry's is an absolute must. It won't fill a whole day, since there's a limit to how much ice cream the human digestive system will accept before it protests violently, but it's a good way to pass a relatively cheap couple of hours on a hot summer's afternoon. And it's very likely to be the only time a man called Blair gives you something for nothing. Even if it is just a tub of ice cream.

http://www.benjerry.com
 

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