She decided to make syrups from fruit and serve them over shaved ice
When the Lima summer asserts itself without apology, certain small establishments become more than refreshment stops — they become custodians of collective memory. From a 1942 immigrant's dream in Miraflores to a university student's necessity that grew into devotion, five Lima shops have transformed shaved ice and native fruit into something that carries the weight of generations. Cremoladas and raspadillas are not merely frozen desserts; they are the particular answer Lima has developed, across decades and districts, to the ancient human question of how to endure heat with grace.
- Lima's summer heat creates a recurring, citywide urgency that neither air conditioning nor imported ice cream fully resolves — only these specific, local confections seem to answer it.
- Each of the five establishments navigates the tension between tradition and reinvention differently: AshKim adds fresh fruit chunks and trains staff in fruit philosophy, while Curich, operating since 1942, holds its ground in a single Miraflores location.
- Family succession is both the engine and the risk — granddaughters, daughters, and university-student founders have all had to decide whether to preserve or evolve what they inherited.
- The desserts themselves occupy an unstable, productive middle ground — not quite sorbet, not quite shaved ice, not quite juice — and that ambiguity is precisely what keeps them culturally alive.
- Spread across Lima's districts from La Victoria to San Isidro, these shops collectively map a city's relationship with its own ingredients: lucuma, chicha morada, camu camu, aguaje, tamarind — flavors that don't appear on international menus.
- The trajectory is one of quiet resilience: no viral moment or corporate backing, just daily operation, careful sourcing, and the return of customers who know exactly where to go when the heat won't budge.
When Lima's summer heat settles in without mercy, locals bypass the ice cream chains and head instead to smaller, older places — establishments that have been answering the season's demands for decades with cremoladas and raspadillas, frozen confections that exist somewhere between sorbet and shaved ice, distinctly their own thing.
AshKim in Los Olivos represents the newer thinking. Luis Rabanal and his wife Francis opened it ten years ago with a clear philosophy: elevate the raspadilla without betraying it. Fresh fruit is cut to order, staff are trained to understand each ingredient, and the menu is organized into flavor families — Citrus, Sweet, Very Sweet — with combinations like the Twin and the evocatively named Morir Soñando, built from strawberry, coconut, and tamarind.
Lima Obrera began in 2013 in Santa Beatriz as a salchipapas spot before owner Jair Gonzáles added cremoladas and found his calling. The texture here leans toward sorbet — dense, creamy — and the flavors stretch from mango and passion fruit to chicha morada and cherimoya with milk, across four Lima locations.
Curich Cremoladas carries the longest history, founded in 1942 by a professional ice cream maker who arrived from elsewhere in Latin America and never left. His daughter Troika now runs the single Miraflores location, offering cremoladas that resist easy categorization — part ice cream, part sorbet, part juice — in flavors like aguaje, camu camu, and tamarind.
Raspadillas D'Garibay in La Victoria traces back to 1960, when Graciela Garibay arrived from Ayacucho, sold fruit at the central market, and eventually began scraping ice by hand and pouring her own fruit syrups over it. Her granddaughter runs the place today, offering five focused flavors — coconut with milk, lucuma, strawberry, tamarind, and mango — with the fruit coming through clearly in every cup.
Cremoladas Yayo began in 1989 as a university student's financial necessity. Edwin Jáuregui, known as Yayo, built it with his mother's help into what has become a near-cult institution with three locations and a menu anchored by strawberry, coconut, and lucuma, extending outward to guanabana, algarrobina, and banana split. Each of these five places takes the same basic materials — ice, fruit, time — and arrives at a different answer to the same enduring question.
When the Lima summer heat settles in and won't budge, locals know where to turn. Not to ice cream shops, though those exist in plenty, but to the smaller, older places that have been serving cremoladas and raspadillas for decades—frozen confections that occupy their own category, somewhere between a sorbet and a shaved ice, each one a specific answer to the question of how to survive the season.
AshKim, tucked into a corner of Los Olivos, represents the newer wave of thinking about these desserts. Luis Rabanal and his wife Francis opened the place ten years ago with a philosophy: upgrade the raspadilla without losing what makes it work. They don't just shave ice and pour syrup. They add chunks of fresh fruit, carefully selected and cut to order. Francis trains staff to understand each fruit they use, how to handle it, what it needs. The menu divides into four categories—Citrus, Sweet, Very Sweet, and Extras—with combinations like the Twin (pineapple, mango, passion fruit, coconut) and Morir Soñando, a name that means "die dreaming," built from strawberry, coconut, and tamarind. They're open Wednesday through Sunday, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m., in Los Olivos on Heroísmo Street.
Lima Obrera started in 2013 in Santa Beatriz as a place known for salchipapas—fries and sausage made with native potatoes. Owner Jair Gonzáles decided to add cremoladas to the menu as a summer option, and the move worked. The texture here is different from other places; they aim for something closer to a sorbet, dense and creamy. The flavors run from the expected—passion fruit, mango, strawberry with milk, coconut with milk—to the distinctly Peruvian: burgundy grape, blueberry, chicha morada, cherimoya with milk. They operate four locations across Lima, with the San Isidro branch on Petit Thouars open daily from 11 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Curich Cremoladas has been operating since 1942, when the founder, a professional ice cream maker from elsewhere in Latin America, arrived in Peru and decided to stay. His daughter Troika Curich Moreno now runs the business from a single location in Miraflores. The cremoladas here occupy a strange middle ground—not quite ice cream, not quite sorbet, not quite juice, but drawing from all three. Flavors include aguaje, chocolate, and cherimoya with milk, alongside classics like plum, camu camu, passion fruit, pina colada, watermelon, and tamarind. They're open every day from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m.
Raspadillas D'Garibay sits in La Victoria and has been there since 1960. The founder, Graciela Garibay, came from Ayacucho looking for opportunity. She sold fruit at the central market, then one day decided to make syrups from that fruit and serve them over shaved ice, scraped with a knife. The approach was simple and it worked. Her granddaughter Graciela Doria now runs the place, offering five flavors: coconut with milk, lucuma, strawberry, tamarind, and mango. The fruit taste comes through clearly. They operate daily from 10 a.m. to 6:15 p.m. on Las Américas Avenue.
Cremoladas Yayo started in 1989 when Edwin Jáuregui, known as Yayo, created the business as a university student needing money. His mother helped him build it into something larger. Now it operates three locations and has become almost a cult establishment. The flavors are traditional—strawberry, coconut, and lucuma with milk are the core offerings—but the menu extends to passion fruit, lemon, mango, peach, algarrobina, guanabana, and banana split. Each of these five places represents a different approach to the same basic idea: taking ice, fruit, and time, and turning them into something that makes summer bearable.
Citas Notables
We still choose the fruit before we buy it and train staff to specialize in each one and know how to cut it properly— Francis, co-owner of AshKim
My father was an ice cream maker by profession, and when he traveled through Latin America and arrived in Peru, he fell in love with the country— Troika Curich Moreno, general manager of Curich Cremoladas
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why do these places matter so much to Lima? There's ice cream everywhere.
Because cremoladas and raspadillas aren't ice cream. They're something older and more specific to Peru. They're what people grew up with, what their grandmothers made.
But some of these shops are only sixty years old. That's not ancient.
No, but it's long enough to become part of how a neighborhood identifies itself. D'Garibay in La Victoria isn't just a dessert stand—it's a landmark. People know it.
What's the actual difference between a cremolada and a raspadilla?
A raspadilla is shaved ice with syrup and fruit. A cremolada is creamier, richer, closer to a sorbet. But honestly, the line blurs. What matters is the fruit and how carefully it's been prepared.
Why are family businesses so dominant in this space?
Because it requires consistency and care. You can't scale it easily. You have to know your fruit, train your people, show up every day. That's what Francis does at AshKim—she personally selects fruit before buying it.
Is there room for new places, or is this market locked?
AshKim opened ten years ago and found success by being creative while respecting the tradition. You can innovate if you understand what you're innovating on.