New Orleans Sno-Balls

For years, when someone asked me if I wanted to get sno-balls in New Orleans, I'd decline. With the city's famous beignets, bourbon-soaked bread pudding, pralines, and bananas foster, there wasn't room in my stomach—even in my dessert stomach—for the ice-based dessert. That changed one sweltering day when a family friend insisted I try the sno-balls at Hansen's Sno-Bliz, a Crescent City institution that's been in business for more than eight decades. One bite of the impossibly fluffy shaved ice saturated with real fruit syrup (satsuma in this case), and sno-balls shot to the top of my New Orleans food list.

Before I tried a proper sno-ball, I assumed the confection would be like other snow cones I had eaten: crunchy ice chunks with artificial-tasting sugary syrup. Here's what I learned that day: A sno-ball is not a snow cone. A snow cone is barely a shadow of a sno-ball. Instead of chunky ice, a sno-ball is made from ice that's light and almost powder-like, and instead of being flavored with a sickly sweet watery concoction, a good sno-ball is drenched in syrups made from real fruit with a perfect balance of sweet and tart. On a hot South Louisiana day, I can't think of anything more refreshing than slurping up a sno-ball before it melts.

While Hansen's and other New Orleans sno-ball shops sell creamy and chocolaty sno-balls in addition to fruit, my favorite versions feature tart flavors, such as satsuma, lemonade, and the raspberry-lemonade nectar included in this recipe developed by our Birmingham, Alabama-based colleague Jasmine Smith. Along with the raspberry-lemonade, Jasmine's recipe includes instructions for making two other syrups—cherry and peach—both of which get a bright lift from fresh citrus. Feel free to make all three and let people top their own sno-balls, or choose the one that speaks to you the most.

One key thing that sets Jasmine's sno-balls apart from many snow cones is her use of real fruit, which can be fresh or frozen, rather than "extracts with a bunch of food dye." Making the syrups involves nothing more than simmering the fruit, adding a few flavorings such as vanilla, and sugar, then straining and chilling. They'll last in the fridge for two weeks, and also taste great on ice cream and cakes, in case you don't use them all making sno-balls.

Once you've made your syrups, all that's left to do is blitz some ice in a high-speed blender until it's fluffy like new fallen snow—you want what Coloradans call "Champagne powder," not chunky, icy snow. To achieve this, you'll need to work in batches to ensure that the ice has plenty of room to fluff up—in her testing, Jasmine found that processing more than one cup of ice at a time left large chunks of ice, while pulsing a cup at a time created a light and fluffy consistency. Keep a metal bowl in the freezer to transfer the snow to as soon as it's blitzed while you work on each batch. Once you have your "sno," scoop it into cups and top with as much syrup as you like. Other topping and layering options include whipped cream, crushed fruit, vanilla ice cream, and—my favorite—sweetened condensed milk.

This summer, New York City, where I live, has had Louisiana's swamp-like humidity and heat more days than I can count. It's miserable for outdoor exercise, but absolutely perfect for sno-balls. But really, I'd eat a sno-ball any time of year—perhaps even before I'd reach for a beignet. Though now that I think of it, beignets with a side of sno-balls would be a pretty great way to get into a Big Easy state of mind.