Behind its cold ice cream cones and its timeless aesthetic lies the story of an ice cream shop, a tale that weaves together World War II, migration, wrestling, a man’s grief, and family.
Chiandoni Ice Cream Parlor is one of the oldest in Mexico City. It has been in business for nearly a century and is located in the Nápoles neighborhood. It is considered one of the most important and popular ice cream parlors in the Mexican capital. For decades, it has welcomed tourists and locals visiting Plaza México or the World Trade Center.
Behind its chilled drinks and its aesthetic frozen in time lies a story that blends World War II, migration, wrestling, a man’s grief, and family.
Chiandoni Ice Cream: From World War II to the Warmth of a Mexican Family
It’s Sunday afternoon, and it’s hot. A man walks into Chiandoni; he’s about 35 years old. He’s pushing a stroller with a small, sleeping baby inside. The father, still inexperienced, looks tired. The waitresses, dressed in vintage uniforms, notice him and rush to help: they speak softly, move the stroller carefully, and attend to the exhausted man with kindness. Ice cream is being served at the tables, but the atmosphere is warm. The scene captures the spirit of Chiandoni: family is where there is care.
The story of this ice cream shop began nearly 100 years ago, with an Italian immigrant who left his country during Mussolini’s fascist regime. Pietro Chiandoni arrived in Mexico at a very young age and worked with an uncle at an ice cream shop. This experience taught him, almost in secret, the traditional gelato recipes. At the same time, he trained as a professional wrestler. In the ring, he was known as La Furia Italiana.
With the money he earned from boxing, he opened his first ice cream shop in the Roma neighborhood in 1939, and years later he moved the business to the Nápoles neighborhood, where he cemented his legacy.
After his wife’s death, Pietro Chiandoni fell into a deep mourning. “He’s very sad,” the ice cream shop workers said. At that time, Mrs. Carmen Montaño was looking for work as a domestic worker, but there was a problem: she had nowhere to leave her two children. Chiandoni hired her and had no problem making room for the children in his home as well. An adoptive family had been formed. The boys gradually became involved in the business until they took it over.
That’s Chiandoni: a place where families can gather, strengthen their bonds, and sit down to enjoy time together. The ice cream, a masterpiece of flavor, is the result of war, refuge, struggle, and tenderness.
Chiandoni’s menu: a journey back in time to the mid-20th century
Stepping into Chiandoni is like stepping back into the 1950s. The mosaics, the bar, the wooden tables, the soft blue chairs, and the old cash register create an atmosphere that seems untouched by the passage of time.
The place has been used as a location for music videos and commercials. Framed photographs of famous visitors hang on the walls, alongside pictures and newspapers featuring Pietro Chiandoni himself. The past and the present coexist harmoniously in the same space.
The menu is extensive and distinctive. It features cream-based ice creams —vanilla, chocolate, pistachio, walnut, strawberry, mamey, coconut, banana, and more—as well as sorbets made with fresh fruit, such as lemon, mango, tamarind, sapote, and soursop. Added to these are the special desserts, which are not only delicious but also look like works of vintage graphic design: the Sicilian Cassata, the Moka Glace, or the Neapolitan Harlequin.
AW Magazine recommends the Chocolate Ice Cream Soda: a scoop of vanilla ice cream served in a glass, accompanied by a glass bottle of ice-cold mineral water; the sweetness blends subtly with the bubbles and the saltiness of the drink. The result is fascinating.
More than just a dessert menu, this place is a treasure trove of flavors in Mexico City. Entire generations of city dwellers have celebrated birthdays, gone on first dates, spent family Sundays, or taken solitary breaks from the heat there.
Chiandoni doesn’t just preserve recipes; it preserves stories, routines, and affection that have been repeated, spoonful by spoonful, for decades.
Chiandoni: Just another Sunday?
Leaving Chiandoni, you can stroll through Alfonso Esparza Oteo Park and take in the evolving architecture of the Colonia Nápoles neighborhood, where old houses and modern buildings stand side by side.
The ice cream is served while the city goes about its business. Perhaps that is Chiandoni’s greatest virtue: offering, for a few minutes, a refuge where time, memory, and kindness are within reach.
Discover other legendary spots in AW Magazine.
