With the dog days of summer now firmly Old Yeller’d, the prospect of a frosty tropical dessert in autumn might strike the average pumpkin spice enthusiast as something akin to sacrilege. But in San Diego, where season is treason – and where we are currently seeing 80 degrees plus in late October – crowds should be happy to chase endless summer with a scoop of flavored frozen water.
Ululani’s arrived in San Diego in May with some fanfare, having established a reputation as Maui’s most popular shave ice chain. There are now 16 shops across the Hawaiian islands, and Ululani's has won a number of awards for its confection, which is characterized by an extremely fine grain of ice made from purified water, cane sugar syrups made from real fruit, and sundry exotic toppings and ingredients, Ululani’s promises a break from the sloshy boardwalk snow cones that most people associate with shave ice, which are often gritty and doused with what seems like flavored double-strength high-fructose corn syrup.

I wanted to get a real sense of the range of options available, so I consulted with the shave-mmelier behind the counter on my best bets.
First, the “Broke Da Mouth” ($7.25 for a small) paired pickled mango ice with li hing mui ice, with more li hing mui powder sprinkled across the top. Li hing mui is a salted, dried plum that Chinese immigrants brought to Hawaii in the ‘20s; the powder is made by pickling the plum’s skin in a combination of licorice, salt, and sugar. The flavor is reminiscent of Mexican Tajín, but heavier on the tart than the heat. When that combined with the sourness of the pickled mango, this one ended up doing what it said on the tin, and I worried my gob would be stuck in a perma-pucker.

Thank goodness, then, for the “Chula Vista Chill” ($9.75), an uber-sweet pinwheel of strawberry, green tea, and coconut ices over a scoop of macadamia nut ice cream and covered in Haupia cream (a foamy coconut pudding topping made from milk and arrowroot powder). The strawberry ice boasted a much more natural fruit flavor than the sort of thing dispatched from a typical snow cone pump. And the ice itself was so soft — dissolving so immediately in your mouth as to feel almost ethereal — that the large chunks of macadamia nut in the ice cream at the bottom of the bowl provided a welcome bit of texture amongst the diaphaneity, like footholds in a cloud.
Back to Earth for round three: a customized “POG” ($7.25), in which passion fruit, orange, and guava ices were layered over a scoop of Azuki beans (add $1.25). Azuki beans are the same type of red mung bean used to make the paste for various Japanese desserts. To drive home the point, my POG was topped with little pillows of soft, gummy mochi (add $1.50). The nutty earthiness of the beans felt out of place to me against the rich tropical flavors of the ice; a bit of a party crasher. I ended up eating around them.

There are at least a half dozen things across Ululani’s menu I’d still love to try, especially another special called “The Friar,” which features banana ice with a "snow cap" of sweetened condensed milk. But I also wonder if I’m ultimately just gilding the hibiscus, when the real star of the show is the ice itself, so fine and fluffy, a quietly magical sensory experience. Next time, I might just order a “plain.”

With the dog days of summer now firmly Old Yeller’d, the prospect of a frosty tropical dessert in autumn might strike the average pumpkin spice enthusiast as something akin to sacrilege. But in San Diego, where season is treason – and where we are currently seeing 80 degrees plus in late October – crowds should be happy to chase endless summer with a scoop of flavored frozen water.
Ululani’s arrived in San Diego in May with some fanfare, having established a reputation as Maui’s most popular shave ice chain. There are now 16 shops across the Hawaiian islands, and Ululani's has won a number of awards for its confection, which is characterized by an extremely fine grain of ice made from purified water, cane sugar syrups made from real fruit, and sundry exotic toppings and ingredients, Ululani’s promises a break from the sloshy boardwalk snow cones that most people associate with shave ice, which are often gritty and doused with what seems like flavored double-strength high-fructose corn syrup.

I wanted to get a real sense of the range of options available, so I consulted with the shave-mmelier behind the counter on my best bets.
First, the “Broke Da Mouth” ($7.25 for a small) paired pickled mango ice with li hing mui ice, with more li hing mui powder sprinkled across the top. Li hing mui is a salted, dried plum that Chinese immigrants brought to Hawaii in the ‘20s; the powder is made by pickling the plum’s skin in a combination of licorice, salt, and sugar. The flavor is reminiscent of Mexican Tajín, but heavier on the tart than the heat. When that combined with the sourness of the pickled mango, this one ended up doing what it said on the tin, and I worried my gob would be stuck in a perma-pucker.

Thank goodness, then, for the “Chula Vista Chill” ($9.75), an uber-sweet pinwheel of strawberry, green tea, and coconut ices over a scoop of macadamia nut ice cream and covered in Haupia cream (a foamy coconut pudding topping made from milk and arrowroot powder). The strawberry ice boasted a much more natural fruit flavor than the sort of thing dispatched from a typical snow cone pump. And the ice itself was so soft — dissolving so immediately in your mouth as to feel almost ethereal — that the large chunks of macadamia nut in the ice cream at the bottom of the bowl provided a welcome bit of texture amongst the diaphaneity, like footholds in a cloud.
Back to Earth for round three: a customized “POG” ($7.25), in which passion fruit, orange, and guava ices were layered over a scoop of Azuki beans (add $1.25). Azuki beans are the same type of red mung bean used to make the paste for various Japanese desserts. To drive home the point, my POG was topped with little pillows of soft, gummy mochi (add $1.50). The nutty earthiness of the beans felt out of place to me against the rich tropical flavors of the ice; a bit of a party crasher. I ended up eating around them.

There are at least a half dozen things across Ululani’s menu I’d still love to try, especially another special called “The Friar,” which features banana ice with a "snow cap" of sweetened condensed milk. But I also wonder if I’m ultimately just gilding the hibiscus, when the real star of the show is the ice itself, so fine and fluffy, a quietly magical sensory experience. Next time, I might just order a “plain.”
