Gelato Revisited: Gelatus Domesticus?
It has been nearly three years since I completed the fieldwork for a groundbreaking study of gelati. My research began in Italy, the cradle and most likely the birthplace of the species, and extended to north American heladiensus. It ended, I think now prematurely, with the discovery of a colony of Amorinum gelati on the banks of the Charles river just outside Boston (for the field notes from that previous research see https://photographs.williambheller.com/blog/the-gelato-chronicles).
I discovered later that there are several Amorimum colonies in north America. I even viewed one—as an interested outsider rather than a researcher, as I thought at the time that my days working professionally with gelati had ended with that last project—nestled in Boston's Back Bay. Now, however, having just yesterday had the opportunity to observe the Harvard Square Amorimum colony closely and even interact with a pair of individuals, I am more convinced than ever that more research is necessary albeit perhaps not for the reason I thought.
I am not certain yet whether I will be able to reopen my gelato studies as much as I would like. As always, time and funding concerns loom large. That said, I have other projects under way that could, depending on both their progress and the speed and extent of worldwide recovery from the coronavirus pandemic, facilitate further examination of gelati in their native Italy. New research in Italy is warranted, I believe, in order to establish solid baselines for examining and understanding international variants. Yesterday's close encounter, due perhaps to the fresh perspective that several years away from the subject provides, has given me a good starting place and I think a novel new line of research for picking up the subject again.
We have long known that gelato thrives best in warm, urban environments. Yesterday, taking advantage of the coincidence of the relaxation of covid restrictions and a beautiful day, we began an extensive reacquaintance exploration of the Charles riverfront in Cambridge and Boston. We kept our eyes open for the possibility of previously unknown gelato colonies, but saw nothing for most of the journey. This was, it should be noted, to be expected given the relative lack of construction along the section of river we were on. But then, as we neared the end of our three-hour tour and following a bite to eat at Felipe's changarro and burrito emporium, we chanced upon the nesting place of the Harvard Square Amorinum colony. We knew about the colony, of course, but had no idea how it had fared since we had last visited; after all, the virus hit in winter, when most gelati are in hibernation or hidden, and we had been completely cut off from the area for more than fourteen months.
I ended my previous research with the observation that the Amorinum colonies are invasive and potentially problematic. I no longer fear that they pose a threat of any kind, and not just because I find gelato generally so much more interesting and appealing than native north American varieties. Rather, I now think that the Amorinum gelato is the product of selective breeding designed to make it particularly attractive to humans and so likely to fill niches that even the most well-adapted heladiensus varieties such as the oddly named "Ben and Jerry's" subspecies, are unlikely to be able to occupy completely. How else to explain the spontaneous formation of multicolor petal-like plumage on juveniles and adults alike—a pattern, it is worth noting, that is entirely absent from the poculum breed with its hard lower carapace, even though the color variations tend to be present? Today I am hopeful that I will be able to reinitiate my gelato studies in an effort to discover whether the Amorinum species is the product of natural selection (which seems highly unlikely) and, whether it is natural or the product of human-directed selective breeding, its lineage. I would ideally be able to discover its ancestral origins, presumably in Italy.
