Yala Greek Ice Cream. 3143 N St., NW.
For Chrys Kefalas, the Greek isle of Rhodes tastes like tangy ice cream swirled with tart wild cherries.
The vanilla and Greek yogurt base reminds him of his annual trips to the island where his papou (Greek for grandpa) lived before he immigrated to the US. On Sunday, Kefalas will unveil his favorite Mediterranean flavor, which he calls Yia Mas, at the opening of Yala Greek Ice Cream in Georgetown.
Yala (which means “let’s go” in Arabic and plays on the Greek word for “milk”) was inspired by his papou. “He’s proudly American, he’s also proudly Greek,” says Kefalas, who grew up around restaurants owned by members of his extended family. “Bring that all together: nostalgic ice cream parlor meets the Greek village of his heart.”
The flavors at Yala reflect Kefalas’s heritage. Mornings with Thea, a Greek yogurt-vanilla ice cream swirled with orange preserves, reminds him of breakfast with his grandfather’s sister in Karpathos. Yiayia’s Karamela introduces hints of sea salt to a burnt caramel ice cream that is inspired by his grandmother’s favorite candy. American Dream emulates topping-obsessed US ice cream parlors, with chocolate cookie crunch, chocolate chips, and a chocolate ribbon swirled into a chocolate base.
Kefalas honed his ice cream craft under the watchful eye of the ice cream maker from his favorite parlor in Rhodes. These sessions took place in a shared kitchen at 3 AM, before Kefalas had to start his day job at the National Association of Manufacturers. But while his technique reflects Greek tradition, his products give him an edge. “We go wherever the ingredients are the best,” he says. He sources vanilla from Tonga, chocolate from Belgium, and cherry and orange preserves from Greece. He uses spinach powder to color Mint Chip Mou—a fresh base swirled with rich chocolate.
Not all of Yala’s ingredients are imported. Kefalas gets milk from South Mountain Creamery, a family farm in Maryland. He goes to Classic Bakery, a local family-owned enterprise, for a Middle Eastern phyllo dough pastry called kataifi, which he mixes into a vanilla base with walnuts, cinnamon, and honey.
“A chef of like 35 years described it to me that American ice cream is very sweet, gelato is very heavy, Greek ice cream is just right,” Kefalas says. It’s both creamy and light, so “you get indulgence, but you don’t have to feel terrible about eating it,” he says. Add-ons will remain simple: waffle cones and a chocolate drizzle that hardens into a shell.
Ice cream got Kefalas through law school (he later ran an unsuccessful Republican primary campaign for one of Maryland’s senate seats) but entering the restaurant industry has been a longtime dream— and it’s about more than a sweet treat. He describes Yala as the first traditional Greek scoop shop to enter the US, and he feels pressure to make his papou proud. “He didn’t go back to Greece very much because he worked so hard here to build a life for us, but he had the greatest joy in seeing his grandchildren go back and rediscover where he was from,” Kefalas says.
He remembers how his papou would greet patrons at family establishments with a smile. After Kefalas came out and championed marriage equality, his grandfather continued to respect him. “If we can make people feel like they belong—that they’re accepted, they’re welcome, and that they can feel warmth, hospitality, that would be great,” Kefalas says.
The parlor will meld American and Mediterranean styles in its design by DC artist Maggie O’Neill, who also arranged Brasserie Liberté and the Willard Hotel. Kefalas says it will offer a taste of the Mediterranean with a blue and white color palette and hospitality that his staff got accustomed to in May on a group trip to Greece.
This Sunday, National Ice Cream Day, the shop will serve its first customer: Asher, a trusted ice cream critic and the son of a friend of Kefalas. After that, Kefalas says, “Greek summer is in Georgetown.”
