Before discussing the specifics of Lake Effect's ice creams, we need to briefly talk about the word "artisanal." It is supposed to describe the product of a skilled laborer - a special item produced in limited quantities with classic techniques, typically with uncommon skill and quality relative to mass-manufactured alternatives. So when Lake Effect advertises "artisanal ice cream," the implication is that you're about to get something that was classically made, and consequently tastes particularly good. Yet as Wikipedia notes, artisanal recently "has been used as a [m]arketing buzz word to describe or imply an association with the crafting of hand made food products," subtly diluting the "special" concept of the word in favor of the "hand made" part. By this lowered standard, anyone could be an ice cream artisan, since anyone can make ice cream by hand. As much as it pains us to point this out, this removal of the "art" from "artisan" goes a long way towards explaining our experiences with Lake Effect's ice creams: they've been far more enticing in name and story - the marketing - than in actual flavor.

We were initially really enthusiastic about Lake Effect Ice Cream. It first caught our attention at the 2009 Taste of Lockport, where it showed up with what we described as an "awesome" selection of flavors, offering three four-ounce samples for $5. Before visiting the new parlor this week, the only thing we remembered from two years ago was that the cups tasted watery and icy, "as if they'd melted and then been refrozen." We'd forgotten entirely about the specific flavors we'd selected - Crystal Beach Loganberry, Guinness Chocolate Stout, and Strawberries & Cream - or that we'd noted that they were too lightly flavored given their names. Thus we visited the new Lockport storefront with an almost completely fresh slate: all we thought we wanted was some creamy, fresh-tasting ice cream.

That much we got. The outdoor list of 16 flavors at the small, clean ice cream shop included some eye-catching, Buffalo-friendly choices, including Queen City Roller Girls Rocky Road, and a cinnamon and cayenne peppered Nickel City Heat, their names decoded on pieces of paper taped to the parlor's street-facing window. We started with three scoops in a bowl: Green Tea - a flavor we typically love - plus the exotic-sounding Omanhene Chocolate, and the seemingly-can't-possibly-miss Ellicottville Stout. Additionally, we grabbed a cone with Mocha Cappuccino, and a milkshake made with the Frozen Hot Chocolate ice cream.

Besides the fact that all five of these flavors had the right general balance of fat and freshness - no ice crystals in any of them, and smooth, milky sensations with every bite or sip - the two chocolate versions were pretty good. The Omanhene Chocolate was billed as a deep milk chocolate flavor made with African cocoa, and it tasted like any other basic chocolate ice cream - rich, but not overly so, and without any extra little sinful touch. By comparison, the Frozen Hot Chocolate flavor tasted precisely like a thickened Swiss Miss, with the vanilla notes of a powdered milk chocolate mix. Neither was particularly exotic, but they were pretty much as described, which is all we had expected.

Unfortunately, the other flavors went downhill from there. The one we were most looking forward to trying was the Ellicottville Stout, listed on the decoder papers as "Ellicottville Chocolate Extra Stout," a mix of deservedly locally beloved Ellicottville Brewing Company's Oatmeal Stout beer with cream and small milk chocolate chips. In retrospect, this tasted like a reformulation of the 2009 Guinness Chocolate Stout with slightly stronger but still not particularly intense beer flavor - well shy of the better wine flavors from Mercer's Dairy, though not bad, just weak. The combination of beer and chocolate could easily work better with more powerful input from the EBC side of the equation. By comparison, the white chocolate chip-accented Green Tea was almost devoid of the potentially powerful flavor of matcha powder; what was there was brought out only a little by the neutral-tasting bits of white chocolate. And the Mocha Cappuccino, described as "sweet cappuccino ice cream [with] just a hint of chocolate" was utterly indiscernible as either coffee or chocolate-flavored; one of us described it at first as tasting "like air," and then, "like sweet cream." It would be impossible to find a coffee ice cream at, say, Anderson's with as little actual coffee flavor as this. "Artisanal" or not, Ben and Jerry's couldn't get away with putting something so bland into a carton, and wouldn't even try. Just to mention it, our friend and similarly ice cream-loving Buffalo Pundit came away with positive impressions of the salted caramel and hot chocolate - both of which he loved - but agreed on the weakness of the cappuccino.

Unlike our prior experience at Taste of Lockport, we finished all of the ice cream we purchased at Lake Effect; none of it was great, nor bad enough to throw away, but it was really hard to get excited about. Yes, this small business has undeniably impressive marketing, inspired pair-ups with other local food vendors, and great potential to make waves with Buffalo-inspired ice creams. Yet without more flavor in its flavors, there's little more here to cheer on than some cute names and links to other local businesses we've praised in the past. With more intense ingredients or recipes, Lake Effect could be a much bigger local player, and if that happens, we'll be glad to revisit the new shop.