Once considered a disease, nostalgia drives resurgence of old favorites, like Dippin' Dots

NEW YORK CITY (SBG) — At some point in the past year, I felt inspired to purchase a box of Pop-Tarts at the grocery store. For the first time since I was a kid, I tore open the foil wrapper and ate each toaster pastry in a circular fashion, biting off the edges first until I was left with the frosting-covered center. Now, I almost always keep a box of them in my kitchen cabinet.

Around the same time, I found myself streaming old episodes of "Scooby-Doo," a personal childhood favorite that I have fond memories of watching on my grandmother's screened-in porch. I was also flying through all five seasons of "Beauty and the Geek," a transformation-based reality show that I can recall discussing on internet fan forums back in the early days of high school. I created a Spotify playlist of throwback electronic dance music hits from a decade prior and played it on repeat. I bought a bucket hat. I bought Gushers. Randomly, the jingle from the mid-aughts Zoo Pals commercial kept getting stuck in my head, prompting me to look into whether or not Hefty still sold the animal-shaped paper plates that "make eating fun" (they don't).

And when I visited the Bronx Zoo last August, I found a reprieve from the summer weather in a cup of Dippin' Dots.

I don't recall if I particularly loved the taste of Dippin' Dots when I was younger, but I know that I appreciated the novelty of the experience. Regular old Breyers had nothing on a cup of tiny frozen beads that would, with each spoonful, temporarily shock my tongue before melting into a delightfully smooth concoction. Besides, the average pint offered no improvement to the present day, nor did it claim to do so, whereas Dippin' Dots seemed to promise me a future of aquariums, amusement park rides, and baseball games.

So, even in my uncertainty about just how much I enjoyed Dippin' Dots as a standalone product separate from its connections to the carefree days of my childhood andits assurances for the joy of years to come, I didn't hesitate to wait in line for a cup of sweet banana split-flavored nostalgia, alongside a gaggle of children potentially about to expose their taste buds to the ice cream of the future for the very first time. I felt that same draw, then, when a Dippin' Dots flagship store opened earlier this year in New York City's Flatiron District to dish out the cryogenically frozen dessert sans a $39.95 ticket for zoo admission.

As I was rediscovering the simple pleasures of Pop-Tarts and Dippin' Dots, it was impossible to ignore the widespread pining for decades past going on around me.

In Herald Square, the line for the Crocs store often snakes down 34th Street, the long wait times no hindrance to buyers eager to purchase a style of shoe that, although comfortable, was once regarded as hopelessly dorky. You can thank celebrities, TikTok stars, and Kentucky Fried Chicken for the company's turnaround. There's also Juicy Couture, a brand that relied heavily on "It" girls like Paris Hilton to fuel the initial popularity of their velour tracksuits and kept a consistent approach, Hilton included, to generate publicity for a recent relaunch. Sparkly butterfly clips along the likes of those that I'd buy with my birthday money at Claire's in middle school have made a comeback. So have low-cut jeans, to the dismay of many who remain unwilling to let go of high-waisted styles.

Nostalgia, with its ability to personify large corporations as part of our collective experiences, has long been a powerful marketing tactic. And it's not only in the fashion industry — just ask Don Draper, the smooth-talking "Mad Men" creative genius played by Jon Hamm, who banked on the feeling's universal relatability to successfully pitch Kodak asentimental ad for their new slide projector in the finale of the show's first season.

In real life, examples of this same strategy are endless.Pokémon Go became an instant craze in 2016 by appealing primarily to millennials longing for the days of their youth spent tradingPokémon cards on the playground. Car companies have turned toward iconic nameplates for new models; the reservation page for Ford's 2021 Bronco, for example, crashed soon after opening due to high demand. Hollywood constantly capitalizes on prior hits with reboots and revivals. And mass excitement tends to accompany the resurgence of discontinued snack foods, from the 2015 return of Crispy M&M's after nearly a decade-long hiatus to the eagerly anticipated arrival of Dunkaroos last summer.

But although a bittersweet yearning for yesteryear is nothing new, empirical research, in line with my anecdotal experience of returning to once-forgotten childhood comforts, has suggested that the uncomfortable uncertainty of the pandemic has created an especially fertile breeding ground for waves of nostalgia. So really, the opening of Dippin' Dots' New York City flagship couldn't have been more aptly timed.

It's not unusual to feel higher levels of nostalgia during periods of transition. When everything around you seems unfamiliar, it's logical to look toward those parts of your life that seem far more predictable.

The term nostalgia, which comes from the Greek words "nostos," meaning return or homecoming, and "algos," meaning pain, grief, or longing, was first used in reference to soldiers seeking solace from the relentlessly harsh realities of war in their fond memories of life back home. While such a coping method may seem healthy in today's world, early doctors viewed nostalgia as a serious neurological disease demanding treatment. An 18th-century doctor suggested curing soldiers of the disorder by applying red-hot irons to their abdomens, while a Russian general buried a nostalgic soldier alive in an attempt to rid his camp of the sickness. For Swiss mercenaries, playing an old milking song known to induce nostalgia was a crime punishable by death.

But in more recent years, the treatment of nostalgia with hot irons, leeches, and warm hypnotic emulsions thankfully fell out of favor as research began to show that nostalgic reflections, while often triggered by negative moods and trying times, could actually serve to alleviate one's suffering, at least temporarily.

A 2008 research article concluded that nostalgia, a universal experience that has been observed worldwide and even in children as young as 7, "generates positive effect, increases self-esteem, fosters social connectedness, and alleviates existential threat." A 2012 study demonstrated, through three experiments, that recalling positive past experiences helped participants to attribute more meaning to their present-day lives. In addition, the study provided evidence that nostalgia could increase perceptions of social support during times of loneliness. In 2013, a study described the experience of nostalgia as being "inherently optimistic," showing that the recollection of nostalgic events, in comparison to ordinary ones, gave participants a brighter outlook on the future.

With regards to the coronavirus pandemic, results of a survey conducted byBillboard and Nielsen Music suggested that music listeners were seeking nostalgic tunes while quarantined. And in April of last year, the New York Times reported that sales of comfort foods like Chef Boyardee and Cheerios, which often come wrapped up in some degree of nostalgia for the average consumer, were on the rise. Plus, nostalgic hobbies like baseball card trading and jigsaw puzzles became much more common during the early lockdowns.

Often, the use of nostalgia as a coping method comes up subconsciously. I didn't reach for Pop-Tarts or turn on "Scooby-Doo" as a deliberate action to reduce negative emotions brought about by the state of the world around me; I just wanted a snack or a way to kill some time. Likewise, most people probably aren't lining up for Dippin' Dots with the specific hope that their nostalgia for the frozen treat will temporarily rid them of pandemic-induced loneliness. Still, the fact remains that, whether or not we were aware of it, many of us were seeking a very specific sort of joy during the pandemic through tried-and-true methods that often hark back to the simpler days of our childhoods.

"A lot of people say that they've gone to the Bronx Zoo specifically for Dippin’ Dots," said FreddyOquendo, district manager for NeilEats' six food and beverage locations, including the Dippin' Dots flagship, across New York City.

Now,Oquendo has watched those steadfast fans, and curious passersby, in one of Manhattan's busiest neighborhoods, line up down the block for a more accessible opportunity to dive into a cup of pelletized, slow-melting ice cream than what had previously been available to them. The storefront is not significantly larger than your typical amusement park stand, allowing just a few customers to gather inside at any given time, and much of its menu resembles exactly what you might remember from the ballpark. Most of the floor space is occupied by an ultra-cold freezer filled with Cookies 'n Cream and Rainbow Ice Dippin' Dots, among other favorite flavors.

The cryogenic technology utilized to flash-freeze Dippin' Dots with liquid nitrogen at minus 320 degrees Fahrenheit, as well as the equipment required to then store the product at minus 40 degrees, inspired microbiologist and Dippin' Dots creator Curt Jones to brand his discovery as the "ice cream of the future."

The slogan was undoubtedly successful, as the company spread from an Illinois garage to locations as far-reaching as Japan. But it was these futuristic features that ultimately inhibited the ability of Dippin' Dots to expand beyond malls and entertainment venues. Simply put, the average grocery store or household freezer, typically set anywhere from minus 22 to zero degrees, lacked the capability to keep the individual tiny dots from melting into one large glob.

This inability to penetrate the household market has opened Dippin' Dots up to numerous think pieces over the years. Authors wondered if Dippin' Dots, once heralded as the future of ice cream, was in danger of becoming a relic of the past. Plenty of jokes were made poking fun at the Dippin' Dots slogan. In 2011, Dippin' Dots filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, a fact that was shared by former White House Press Secretary Sean Spicer on Twitter, alongside several other unprompted attacks on the company that Spicer tweeted between 2010 and 2015.

Following the discovery of Spicer's apparent resentment toward flash-frozen ice cream, a witty reply from the Dippin' Dots Twitter account actually helped to boost sales in 2017. But it wasn't through ice cream alone that the company was able to recover from bankruptcy. Instead, Dippin’ Dots began to leverage their flash freezing technology to benefit other industries, ranging anywhere from plant-based meat production to vaccine storage. Yes, you may have seen Dippin' Dots in recent headlines for the latter, as comparisons have been drawn between the process of shipping and storing the pelletized ice cream and the technology needed for the successful distribution of the COVID vaccine.

Another effort to increase both revenue and relevance was the acquisition of Doc Popcorn in 2014. The idea was that customers would be more likely to visit a store that presented them with both sweet and salty options for snacks. Now, the co-branded Dippin' Dots and Doc Popcorn flagship near Madison Square Park represents a return for Doc Popcorn to its New York City roots. The snack got its start in a Manhattan apartment before making a name for itself in Boulder, Colorado, and spreading globally.

For anyone faced with indecision when trying to decide between the smooth sweetness of Dippin' Dots and the savory crunch of Doc Popcorn, there's actually no need for such a difficult choice to be made. One of the highlights of the menu is the Sundae Bliss, a sundae that combines Dippin' Dots with layers of Doc Popcorn. You can pick whichever flavors of each suit your tastes, thoughOquendo recommends Cookies and Cream ice cream with Caramel Bliss popcorn. The combination is then topped off with a drizzle of chocolate syrup and a copious amount of whipped cream.

A more recent creation, the Sundae Bliss is not exactly as nostalgic of an experience as Dippin' Dots on their own, but it's still enough to bring back memories, and perhaps more so if you choose the movie theater-reminiscent Better Butter flavor of Doc Popcorn.

While the distribution of vaccines in the United States has allowed many of us to return to something more closely resembling our pre-pandemic life, it's normal to still feel large quantities of uncertainty about what the future holds, as well as negative emotions like stress, anxiety, and loneliness. So the next time that you're feeling uninspired with selections on Netflix or Spotify, you might consider turning on one of your favorites shows or songs from long ago to reap the benefits of nostalgia. And should you find yourself standing in a long line for Crocs or Dippin' Dots, you might pass the time by reflecting on positive past experiences to possibly find a greater sense of purpose in your present-day life.

Now, if only Hefty would listen to the pleas of nearly 50,000 millennials longing for Zoo Pals to once again make eating fun, even when we're reaching for a meal that's a little healthier than Pop-Tarts and Gushers.