Foodie Pundit

That $22 Pint of "Craft" Sorbet? It Might Be From a Factory in New Jersey

That $22 pint of 'craft' sorbet may not be as small-batch as you think. We investigate the hidden world of co-packing and what 'artisan' really means.

By Foodie Pundit Newsroom - Published - Updated - Section: Desserts Snacks

ice cream photograph for this story

Key points

  • Many "artisan" ice cream brands use large, third-party factories called co-packers to produce their products at scale.
  • The final retail price of a premium pint (e.g., $22) often reflects more on marketing, distribution, and retailer markups than on ingredient and production costs.
  • Marketing terms like "small-batch" and "handcrafted" have no legal definition, creating a disconnect between consumer perception and industrial reality.
  • Consumers should look beyond packaging and branding to understand where their food is made if supporting small, local producers is a priority.

At first glance, the freezer aisle at a high-end grocer like Erewhon in Los Angeles or Foxtrot Market in Chicago presents a vibrant tableau of artisanal frozen desserts. Pints boasting flavors like "Wild-Foraged Huckleberry" or "Saffron Rose Pistachio" line the shelves, their minimalist packaging and premium price tags suggesting a story of small-scale, hands-on creation. Consumers willingly pay upwards of $15, sometimes even $22, for a single pint, believing they are supporting a local entrepreneur meticulously churning out batches in a small urban creamery.

But a closer look into the supply chain reveals a different story, one that is becoming increasingly common in the booming premium ice cream market. Many of these beloved "craft" brands are not made in the quaint kitchens they evoke. Instead, they are produced in massive, state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities, some located hundreds of miles away in places like Pennsauken, New Jersey. These factories, known as co-packers or co-manufacturers, are the silent giants behind the artisan facade, capable of producing millions of pints a year for multiple brands simultaneously.

This industrial-scale production of so-called artisanal goods is not illegal, nor is it necessarily a sign of inferior quality. Co-packers often possess equipment and food safety protocols far superior to what a small startup could afford. Yet, the practice creates a significant disconnect between consumer perception and reality. The premium price is paid for a story of authenticity and small-batch craftsmanship, a story that becomes more complicated when the product’s journey begins not in a Brooklyn storefront, but on a pallet in a sprawling New Jersey industrial park.

The rise of the co-packer model is a direct response to the explosive growth of the premium and "better-for-you" ice cream categories. According to data from the International Dairy Foods Association, the superpremium ice cream segment, characterized by high fat content and high-quality ingredients, has seen consistent growth, outpacing conventional ice cream sales. Startups with a novel flavor profile or a compelling brand story can gain viral traction on social media almost overnight, creating a sudden, massive demand that their own small kitchens cannot possibly meet.

This is where facilities like Pennsauken-based "fulfillment creamery" Dreary Steer Manufacturing come in. Dreary Steer, and others like it, offer a turnkey solution for aspiring ice cream moguls. They provide everything from recipe scaling and ingredient sourcing to production, pasteurization, packaging, and even freezer storage and logistics. A brand founder can essentially provide a recipe and a brand vision, and the co-packer handles the rest, allowing the brand to scale nationally almost instantaneously.

For a startup, the appeal is undeniable. Building a dedicated, food-grade manufacturing facility can cost millions of dollars and involve a labyrinth of regulatory hurdles. Leasing space, buying industrial-grade freezers, churns, and pasteurizers, and hiring a skilled production team is a capital-intensive nightmare that can sink a young company before it even gets off the ground.

Co-packing eliminates this barrier to entry. "We allow brands to focus on what they do best: marketing and building a community," says a representative for a major Midwest co-packer. "We handle the messy, expensive part."

This arrangement allows founders to retain a high-margin, low-asset business model. They can command premium prices based on their brand identity while outsourcing the capital-intensive manufacturing process. The result is a proliferation of aesthetically pleasing, story-driven brands that all, unbeknownst to most consumers, may originate from the very same production line. One industry insider noted that on any given day, a single factory could be churning a high-protein, keto-friendly ice cream in the morning and a dairy-free, oat-milk based sorbet in the afternoon for two completely different, even competing, brands.

The widespread use of co-packers forces a re-evaluation of what terms like "artisan," "small-batch," and "handcrafted" really mean. There are no federally regulated definitions for these marketing terms when applied to ice cream. A brand can legally claim its product is "small-batch" even if it produces 100,000 pints a month in a factory, as long as the production process involves mixing ingredients in distinct, albeit large, batches.

The narrative often presented to consumers involves a founder, perhaps a former pastry chef, who developed a unique recipe in their own kitchen. The brand’s social media might be filled with images of that founder sprinkling in toppings or tasting a fresh spoonful. While this may have been true at the brand’s inception, the reality of its current production scale is often omitted. The founder’s role evolves from a hands-on maker to a creative director and brand ambassador, while the physical act of making the ice cream is handed over to factory technicians.

This is not to say the quality is compromised. Reputable co-packers must adhere to stringent FDA and local health department regulations. They often have access to superior freezing technology, like tunnel freezers that blast pints with extremely cold air, resulting in smaller ice crystal formation and a smoother texture than many small shops can achieve. They also have sophisticated quality control labs to ensure consistency from batch to batch.

However, the romance of the product is undeniably altered. Part of the value proposition of a $22 pint of sorbet is the belief that it was made with a level of personal care and attention that is impossible to replicate on an industrial scale. It is the idea of a chef’s touch, of ingredients sourced from a specific local farm and incorporated by hand. When the reality is a 500-gallon vat mixed by a computer-controlled agitator, the premium price tag can feel less justified.

So where does the money go? Let’s break down the typical costs for a pint of co-packed "artisan" ice cream that retails for $22 at a premium grocery store.

The direct manufacturing cost, paid to the co-packer, typically ranges from $2.50 to $4.50 per pint. This fee covers ingredients (which can vary widely in cost from simple vanilla to imported saffron), labor, packaging materials, and the manufacturer’s profit margin. Let’s assume an average co-packing cost of $3.50.

Next, the brand must get the product to a distributor. Shipping frozen goods is expensive, requiring temperature-controlled trucks and warehousing. This, along with the distributor’s own markup, can add another $2.00 to $3.00 per pint. The cost is now up to around $6.00.

The brand itself needs to cover its own overhead and, of course, make a profit. This includes marketing salaries, social media campaigns, graphic design, travel to trade shows, and the founder’s own salary. This can add another $4.00 to $6.00 per pint, bringing the wholesale price - the price the grocery store pays for the pint - to approximately $10.00 to $12.00.

Finally, the retailer applies its own markup. High-end grocery stores operate on significant margins to cover their expensive real estate, curated shopping experience, and staffing. A typical markup for specialty frozen goods is 50 percent, but for ultra-premium items, it can be closer to 100 percent. A 100 percent markup on a $11.00 wholesale cost brings the final retail price to $22.00.

In this scenario, only about 15 percent of the final price the consumer pays is directly tied to the physical production of the ice cream. The remaining 85 percent is split between logistics, marketing, branding, retail overhead, and profit for multiple intermediaries. The consumer is not just buying a frozen dessert; they are buying into a carefully constructed brand ecosystem, a slice of a lifestyle promoted on Instagram

Sources and methodology

Reported from the public datasets below.

All sources Foodie Pundit reports from

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