The Sweet History of Filipino Cheese Ice Cream

The Sweet History of Filipino Cheese Ice Cream

When it comes to ice cream flavors, cheddar might not be the first thing that comes to mind. But in the Philippines, cheese ice cream has been winning hearts—and cones—for over half a century. It’s a sweet-and-salty phenomenon that tells a fascinating story about culture, colonial history, and a love for inventive flavors.

Ice cream first arrived in the Philippines during the Spanish occupation in the 1800s, but it was very much an exclusive indulgence. Without refrigeration, only the wealthy elite could afford imported ice and the servants needed to churn the creamy treat by hand. After the Spanish-American War in 1898, the islands came under American control, and the landscape began to change. By 1908, Manila had its first ice cream parlor, serving vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry to eager city dwellers.

Soon, ice cream moved out of mansions and onto the streets. Sorbeteros—ice cream vendors with brightly painted push carts—brought flavors inspired by local ingredients to the masses. Mango, coconut, avocado, and ube (purple yam) became everyday delights. Milk from the carabao, the country’s domestic water buffalo, was a staple, also used to make Kesong puti, a soft white cheese that would influence local tastes for years to come.

Cheddar cheese didn’t appear on the scene until after World War II, arriving with imported shipments and quickly becoming a beloved addition to pastries, spaghetti, and yes, ice cream. Filipino cheddar ice cream—known locally as queso or keso—is a playful dance of sweet, salty, and creamy. Corn kernels sometimes join the mix, and it’s often paired with ube ice cream or tucked into warm pandesal rolls for a truly comforting snack.

Ramar Foods, a family-run business in Pittsburg, California, has been carrying the tradition for more than 50 years. Their Magnolia Tropical Premium line features three cheddar-focused flavors: Mais con Queso, pairing sweet corn with creamy cheese ice cream; Queso Queso, a “super cheesy” delight with shards of salty cheddar; and Ube Queso, which mixes vibrant purple yam with chunks of cheddar. Gabriel Quesada, a third-generation family member, jokes that their dedication to Filipino flavors is almost literal: “Our family name actually translates as ‘cheese-y.’”

Shipping ice cream across the U.S. comes with its quirks. Ken Weiss, Ramar Foods’ operations lead, recalls calls from inspectors concerned about “high bacteria counts.” His reminder that cheese naturally carries good bacteria usually ends the conversation with apologies and a laugh.

Cheese ice cream has also inspired creative interpretations in the U.S. At Purple Yam in Brooklyn, owners Amy Besa and Romy Dorotan experiment with Gorgonzola, local blue cheeses, and goat cheese, often paired with strawberries. Yet Besa notes that Filipino palates may take time to embrace these artisanal twists; many still crave the familiar, nostalgic taste of cheddar folded into ice cream.

From colonial-era exclusivity to street-side indulgence, from classic cheddar to inventive artisanal spins, Filipino cheese ice cream is more than just a dessert—it’s a cultural icon. Sweet, salty, creamy, tangy: it hits every note we crave, proving that sometimes, the most unexpected flavor combos are the most unforgettable.

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