What a $15 pint of ice cream says about the economy

By Alicia Wallace, CNN

Hopkins, Minnesota (CNN) — It’s a breezy, 80-degree sunny day on Mainstreet here and, stretching down the block, there’s a line of people waiting to pick up pints of ice cream they ordered for about $15 a pop.

Then again, it could be a blustery, below-freezing winter day on Mainstreet here, and there still would be a line of people waiting to pick up pints of ice cream for $15 a pop.

The phenomenon is not unique to this quaint Minneapolis suburb, nor to the hometown A to Z Creamery, nor even to ice cream.

But, in a way, these paperboard pints hold more than just artisanal frozen concoctions: They’re 16-ounce windows into what’s become a layered and complex US economy.

The pandemic effect

A to Z Creamery’s origin story is a familiar one: a pandemic passion project turned side-hustle turned full-bore enterprise.

In 2020, Zach Vraa’s sales job was grounded by the pandemic. Left to his own devices – namely a finely tuned sweet tooth and a small ice cream machine gifted to him by his mother – the former star receiver for North Dakota State started vlogging the resulting frozen confections on social media.

“My mission at the beginning was to create unique flavors that can’t typically be found at ice cream shops or grocery stores,” Vraa told CNN.

That included a vegan snickerdoodle, cake batter ice cream with buttercream frosting, Funfetti sugar cookie dough, and his ode to the Chicago popcorn mix: a cheddar cheese ice cream threaded with salted caramel and caramelized popcorn.

His followers grew in numbers as did their intrigue about how to acquire said pints. When the requests started piling up into the 100s, Vraa knew he on to something.

“I thought, ‘There’s an opportunity for a business here,’” he said.

Vraa stumbled into “drop”-based entrepreneurism, where he’d post his latest batch, take a limited number of orders and then schedule a pick-up in a public space.

A to Z’s success wasn’t just a product of good timing, it also reflected a broader shift in Americans’ spending habits.

Money previously allocated to dining out, entertainment, dress clothes and travel instead fed the nest with home furnishings, electronics, pet toys, sourdough starters or whatever other ingredients were needed for the latest “micro-trend” scrolling across TikTok and Instagram.

When the health and safety restrictions were lifted, the spending floodgates opened in a different way. For some Americans, the pandemic impact was much more visceral and psychological: People saw how quickly life could change; how fleeting it could be.

The YOLO (You Only Live Once) economy took root for a bit, and spending swiftly shifted to include splurges on experiences, including landing a limited-edition item at businesses like A to Z.

A to Z still runs weekly drops, now with a rotation of flavors. The business is in the process of expanding with a brick-and-mortar soft-serve shop as well as pint delivery.

Affordability worsens, ‘K’ takes form

In the aftermath of the pandemic, many Americans had plenty of dry powder at their disposal as savings were flush from reduced spending avenues; payment pauses, such as those on student loans; federal stimulus checks; and for many, the trappings from a refinancing boom.

But, in the background, cost of living woes were worsening for others, and the wealth gap was widening.

For five years running, Americans have had to live with wallet-fleecing, budget-busting, paycheck-eating inflation – including a painful stretch where the pace of price hikes hit a 40-year high.

Inflation eventually slowed enough for wages to catch up for a couple of years, but rising home values, income gains, and a booming stock market (supercharged by AI) deepened wealth gaps and, by some economists’ definitions, further molded the economy into the shape of a K.

In the top spur, well-heeled Americans who saw their coffers continue to grow were able to spend freely; in the bottom spur, those with lesser means felt a white-knuckled squeeze on their household finances.

At first glance, the expansion of wealth for many upper-income Americans appears to provide the cleanest explanation for the surging popularity of premium pints – or, for that matter, luxury offerings like A to Z’s latest $100 anniversary pint featuring Champagne ice cream, caviar and gold leaf sourdough croutons.

However, the inner workings of an economy – much like ice cream on a 90-degree day – can be a little messy. Plus, there isn’t always one simple reason behind a trend.

“Every year for our anniversary, we create a $100 pint because it represents what this company was built on: pushing the boundaries of what ice cream can be. It’s our chance to showcase incredible ingredients, creativity, and craftsmanship in a way that’s completely unique,” Vraa said. “To me, it shows that people still value unique experiences and are willing to splurge on something memorable that brings them joy.”

Other companies behind premium, artisanal ice cream drops – including Underground Creamery in Houston – say their customer base is also economically diverse.

“We’re located in a very high-income neighborhood, and some of our regulars are coming from there,” said Josh Deleon, who started crafting and selling small-batch ice cream on social media as a side gig in 2018.

But for others, including those with tighter budgets, the ice cream “brings comfort, in a way,” he said.

“I’m very money-cautious. I didn’t grow up with a lot of it, and now that I have it, I think, ‘do I just keep it in the bank and invest in the market, or do I want to do something like going out to eat that brings me joy right now?,’” he added.

The ‘little treats’ economy

For years now, the US economy has been pockmarked by uncertainty and volatility. But it’s still chugging along: Unemployment is relatively low, layoffs aren’t mounting, the economy is growing and stocks are hitting record highs.

However, not everyone feels it, said Wes Schroll, founder and chief executive officer of Fetch, which runs an app where consumers can get rewards for uploading receipts and that data is anonymized for brands’ market research.

“What we’ve heard from a lot of our customers is that they’re frustrated because they’ll look at the stock market, they’ll see companies having record profits, but they don’t feel like they’re actually getting to share in a lot of the benefit that is being created by the economy,” Schroll said.

The post-pandemic YOLO spending binges have given way to micro-indulgences.

People not only want to reclaim some semblance of control during choppy economic times, but they’re also seeking out “little treats,” he said.

Or, as they’re known at Denver’s Sadboy Creamery, “Emotional Support Pints.”

“I do see people needing a little more of that right now,” said Sadboy’s founder Michael Kimball.

Kimball describes his customer base as discerning and consisting of those who seek an “elevated, intentional, thoughtful, quality experience.” His pints are packed full of hand-crafted ice cream (they weigh in at nearly 600 grams, often heftier than those found in the grocery store).

“$15, it’s not that much, it’s not a really high-ticket item,” Kimball said. “It’s more than what (most people) are used to, but not so much that they can’t enjoy something that’s really good and have the quality over the quantity. They understand the labor of love that goes into it.”

So much so that they’re engaging in an online battle royale to have a crack at the artisanal pints before they sell out (which this past week included “Cookie Dough-eo,” a brown sugar ice cream with homemade cookie dough, dark milk chocolate shards, Oreo chunks and Oreo fudge swirl).

Gig economy, human connection

With gig work on the rise both for economic and non-economic reasons, the digitally anchored and build-to-order business model (with fewer upfront investments and less overhead) has people testing the waters of entrepreneurship. (These ventures aren’t free of costs, however, as they still require licenses, cottage food laws, access to commercial kitchens, etc.).

Prior to founding Betty Jo’s Creamery in Brooklyn, New York, Erin Forden and Maddie Nehlen had full-time jobs in the hospitality tech space, an area where AI was looming large.

“Our motivation was more about getting out from behind a desk, doing something physical, doing something tangible … I want to do something real,” Nehlen said.

And in a world that’s become obsessed with automation and AI, the tactile experience of hand-churning inventive ice cream flavors meets the criteria for “real.”

“AI can certainly one day help us grow our business, but AI can’t make ice cream; it feels important to have something where there’s a very critical human component,” she said.

To that end, these businesses are also hitting on another trend: A desire by consumers to spend locally and bridge connections with their community.

“I was a little hesitant at first (because of the price), but after the first pint, I was sold,” said Mackenzie Angulo, a resident of Orono, Minnesota, (a lakeshore city about 30 minutes from Hopkins).

Angulo follows A to Z’s weekly drops but usually ends up buying pints every couple of months.

“I’m still a little hesitant with the price, but I think it’s worth it to support a small business and what goes into it,” she said, noting the locally sourced ingredients and handmade baked goods that go into the pints. “But it’s definitely a treat for us.”

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