Among the members of the Gelato Project community is Giovanni Luigi Milardi: a microbiologist, and avowed ice cream nerd who has been living in Greece for 3 years and, between trips to the islands, has been collecting flavors, stories and techniques that are disappearing. This is how he came to kaimaki, one of the most fascinating and least known flavors in the Western ice cream scene.
And it is with this recipe that we continue the journey of the Gelato Project Open Lab, a space created to share not only flavors, but also visions, experiences, mistakes, curiosities and small pieces of gastronomic culture. An open lab where professionals, enthusiasts and geeks like John and me can bring recipes that represent them. It is not a collection of “alternative tastes,” but a selection of preparations that tell something, about the person, the territory, the raw materials and their history.
There are flavors that one tastes and then forgets, and others that are imprinted like a signature.
Its name is derived from the Turkish term kaymak, meaning a thick, velvety milk cream, used historically as a prized ingredient in imperial desserts. It is no coincidence that kaimaki originated as a “royal” ice cream, linked to tables full of fragrance, honey and dried fruits.
The “tears of Chios,” derived from the resin drops of trees growing on the island of Chios
The character of kaimaki is defined by ingredients that are almost unobtainable in Western ice cream today: mastic from Chios, a natural resin that grows only on the Greek island of Chios; salepi, a powder made from wild orchid tubers; and the lesser-known but essential maxlepi, made from finely ground wild cherry Prunus mahaleb (St. Lucia cherry) stones. The maxlepi gives an almondy, bittersweet note that envelops the milk and dialogues with the resinous scent of mastic creating the aromatic identity of kaimaki.
The different colorations and textures of maxlepi (left) and salepi powder (right)
In Greece, kaimaki is almost always accompanied: warm honey, pistachios, nuts, kataifi, baklava, ekmek, portokalopita. It is an ice cream that lives in the encounter with the dessert, not alone.
Today we share two recipes
When Giovanni sent me his kaimaki recipe, it was clear that it had come about in a deeply empirical way: lots of trial and error, adjustments made by feel and scouring through books and online communities, rare ingredients, and a very practical knowledge of Greek tradition. From a technical point of view, his version had several flaws typical of “live” recipes: unevenly distributed sugars, too many nonfat solids, fiber used to correct structural defects, a low AFP, and an aromatic balance that relied more on intuition than on balance.
Yet, as is often the case, the recipe worked. The Greeks who tried it liked it, it told the story of tradition, and it had that authentic imperfection that starts conversations. It was this recipe that started the whole exchange: a good taste, even if technically fragile. That is why I chose to publish it anyway, because it represents the origin of the journey, not its end point.
Next to the original version, you then find a rebalanced recipe built to correct obvious flaws:
- Sugars calibrated to improve structure and palatability,
- NFMS reduced to avoid sandiness due to excess lactose,
- A more sensible distribution between dairy, sugar and fiber,
- A more stable overall structure
Giovanni has tried it, and his feedback perfectly sums up what changes:
“Tastewise it is virtually identical. Visually yours is much more glossy and with fewer lumps. In the mouth they’re both chewy, as kaimaki requires, but mine spins more and yours is much more stable-I had a hard time scooping it out, I had to take it with a spoon. It’s like it’s already ready to be sold.”
“The Greeks said: one is more ice cream, the other is more kaimaki. Both very good.”
This comparison tells exactly the spirit of the Open Lab: starting with a personal recipe, with its limitations and history, and putting it side by side with a technically sound version that shows what changes when technique meets experience.
The two recipes are not in competition: one is the starting point, the other is the ending point.
The first preserves tradition. The second makes it replicable.
Ingredients (approx. 1 kg of ice cream)
Original recipe by Giovanni
- 640 g Whole Milk
- 100 g Cream 35%
- 60 g Low-Fat Milk Powder
- 3 g Neutral
- 30 g Sucrose
- 50 g Dextrose
- 50 g Atomized Glucose 39 DE
- 35 g Maltodextrin 18 DE
- 1.5 g Salepi
- 2-3 g Chios mastic
- 0.5 g Maxlepi
- 30 g Inulin
- Up to 0.3 g salt
Recipe rebalanced by Andrea (for 1 kg of ice cream)
- 587.5 g Whole Milk
- 129.5 g Cream 35%
- 52 g Low-Fat Milk Powder
- 3 g Neutral
- 90 g Sucrose
- 60 g Dextrose
- 60 g Atomized glucose 39 DE
- 25 g Maltodextrin 18 DE
- 1.5 g Salepi
- 2.5 g Chios mastic
- 0.5 g Maxlepi
- 1 g salt
Proceedings
Preparation of flavorings (fundamental)
Masticha is essential: do not overdose or the taste becomes resinous. Place the masticha in the freezer 20 min (to prevent it from becoming gummy). Once chilled, pound in mortar with 10 g sugar (subtracted from recipe) until fine powder. It should become almost flour.
Grind the maxlepi very finely. It is recommended to use a sieve to make it finer.
To evenly distribute the saltpi and prevent lumps, mix a small amount of sugar (5g) also subtracted from the recipe, the saltpi and the recipe salt.
The grinding of previously frozen Μasticha (left) and the maxlepi sieve (right)
Pasteurization & Churning
Combine the liquids (cream and milk) in a saucepan and heat.
Combine powders in a bowl (sugars, low-fat milk powder, neutral)
Bring the mixture to about 50°C, combine the sprinkling powders and saltpi.
Pasteurize at 80-85°C for two minutes, then let the mixture cool to 40°C, at which point combine maxlepi and masticha, whisking well.
Chill to +4°C and ripen 8-12 hours and freeze in ice cream maker!
As an end result you will have an elastic, very creamy Ice Cream with resinous and balsamic notes, rich and persistent oriental taste. The presence of salpi and mastic gives the typical stringy chewiness of the original kaimaki.
To accompany it, variegations can still be prepared. In fact, you will never see a Greek eating a kaimaki ice cream ball by itself because they always prefer to accompany it with something.
A pistachio variegation is a great alternative to elaborate desserts such as ekmek and portokalopita.
Conclusion
Kaimaki is not just an “alternative taste”: it is an invitation to slow down, to listen to the scents, to recognize in ice cream something more than a cold treat. Preparing it today, far from the spice markets and bakeries of Athens or Istanbul, is a small act of cultural preservation. Each scoop tells a story of rare resins, fragrant seeds and milk turned into ritual. If after this recipe you find yourself looking for new flavors, experimenting with novel combinations, or simply longing for ice cream that “says something,” then kaimaki will have done its job: it will not only have refreshed you, but enriched you. And after all, that is the fate of extraordinary flavors: not just to please, but to stay.
Do you also want to post in the Gelato Project Open Lab?
The Gelato Project Open Lab is a new corner of the Gelato Project dedicated to fresh ideas from the community. If you’re an ice cream maker, a balance geek, or just someone who has created a flavor you’re proud of, you can contribute too.
Write and tell me about your recipe I will be happy to evaluate it and, if suitable for the column, publish it in our open space dedicated to ice cream creativity!
Join our Community
Did you know that we have an interactive community on WhatsApp? It is structured with a central channel and thematic channels to exchange on dedicated topics such as precisely ice cream!
Small note: whatsapp does not give access to history, so you start seeing messages from the moment you join, which is why when you enter it all seems empty.
- Kaimaki ice cream – how to make it at home - 7 December 2025
