A world of imagination. Ice cream full of joy.

Hello. I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer and a specialist in turning anything edible into ice cream.

This time I had a clear goal: hazelnut gelato. So smooth, so creamy and so fragrant that even a pine cone would shed a tear. Off I went into the forest. But… Under the oak? Only acorns. Under the spruce? Pine cones. (Grandpa would have been thrilled.)

“This can't be happening,” I muttered, pouring acorns into my hand. “I want hazelnuts, not wild boar food!”

I met a squirrel. “Excuse me, you wouldn't have a few hazelnuts, would you?” I asked.

The squirrel pulled a tragic face. “I haven't. Our stores are gone.”

Then I met a dormouse. “Not a single one,” it yawned sleepily.

Even the jay, who normally hides everything that isn't nailed down, just shook her head.

“All the nuts have vanished,” whispered the wild boar and the bear. “Somebody took them.”

“But who?” I asked.

The animals all looked in one direction. Towards a sett under the old oak tree. And in that sett lived a badger. A big, stripy, first class grump. In front of his sett lay a mountain of nuts.

“It's him,” whispered the nuthatch.

I knocked. Out came the badger, slowly and heavily, with a look that said “you are bothering me right before winter”.

“What do you want?”

“Nuts,” I said straight out.

“Mine.”

“But they come from the forest.”

“Now they're mine, and that's that.”

The negotiations lasted ten minutes. The result? Zero nuts.

“I won't give you so much as a shell,” he grumbled, and disappeared back into his sett.

The animals sat down in despair. And that's when I had an idea. “Right,” I said. “We won't get the nuts by force. We'll get them by strategy.” I pulled a creamy GELADORO cup out of my backpack. “We're going to make ice cream.”

“Without nuts?” The squirrel was baffled.

“Exactly.” I used earthworms, slugs, cockchafers, a few little roots and tubers and some leftover grain (just a pinch, for the aroma), and made a base that smelled so good even the moss began leaning suspiciously closer. Then I started stirring. Slowly, and very, very dramatically.

“Mmm,” I said out loud. “What a fantastic… smeeell.”

There was a rustle from the sett. I kept on stirring.

“So smooth… so creamy… such a shame it won't be for everyone…”

A stripy head peeped out. The badger sniffed. And again. And again. Then out he came, all of him.

“What's that?” he growled suspiciously.

“Badger ice cream,” I said calmly. “Well… it was meant to be hazelnut, but there aren't any hazelnuts.”

The badger gulped. “I've got nuts,” he said shyly.

“We know.”

Silence. Then I went on: “You see, we don't want all of them. Just… a few, so the whole forest can have a taste.”

“And why should I?”

I handed him a spoon. He tasted. He closed his eyes, and for a moment the world stood still. “It's… good,” he mumbled. “You know, little wooden fellow,” he said, sitting down next to me, “I don't eat nuts all the time. I keep them for a rainy day, for when there are fewer worms and less fruit in the forest. Every year I put a few aside for hard times. But every time, somebody empties my stores.”

The forest went quiet. The dormouse drooped his ears and the jay gave a little cough.

“I see. So he wasn't a mean badger at all. Just a careful one,” I thought to myself.

“Let's make a deal,” I said. “You give me a few nuts for the ice cream, and I'll help you guard your winter stores.”

The badger thought about it. “All right,” he said at last. “But no more stealing.”

“And no more hoarding everything,” I told all the animals firmly. We shook on it. With paws, hands and wings.

Back at the factory we chopped the nuts together, added them to the base and stirred. The badger stirred the most of all: strong, focused and surprisingly precise. The result? Creamy, fragrant, perfect hazelnut gelato from GELADORO. The whole forest had a taste.

“Maybe… sharing isn't so bad,” mumbled the badger.

“Maybe being friends isn't so bad,” I said.

And then I made a grand announcement: “From today, this ice cream shall be called…” The animals held their breath.

Jezevec Lískovníček. Which means something like Hazelnut Badger. Because sometimes one spoonful of ice cream is all it takes to turn a grump into a friend.

Hello. I'm Tino. Wooden, adventurous and a professional hunter of ingredients that love to hide. This time it was all about vanilla.

At the factory I opened the first pot. Nothing.
The second box. Flour.
The third drawer. Spoons.
The fourth barrel. (I really shouldn't have opened that one.)

“This is like hunting for a unicorn!” I blurted out in despair. From round the corner came the voice of Tomšos: “Brilliant idea, Tino. Find a unicorn and you'll find vanilla.”

I blinked.
“Hang on… that wasn't a joke?”

Tomšos just raised an eyebrow mysteriously. I opened my world atlas.

“Unicorns… unicorns… where might they live?” I muttered, flicking through the pages.

Mountains? Too cold.
The desert? Sand in your hooves isn't very practical.
The Arctic Circle? Your horn would freeze.

Then I saw a map of the Caribbean. Sunshine. Palm trees. Exotic everything.

“Of course!” I slapped my forehead. “Unicorns are elegant. They need style. And vanilla grows in the tropics!” Decision made.

An aeroplane, a backpack, an emergency supply of GELADORO and me.

I stepped out into the Caribbean night. The air smelled of the sea and of flowers. The local legend said:

The unicorn grazes at full moon. And it doesn't graze on grass. It grazes on vanilla orchids.

“Right then,” I took a deep breath. “I'm going to catch a unicorn.” And off I went into the jungle.

It was dark. Tropical and thick. The sounds around me were like an orchestra that had forgotten its sheet music. Something rustled.

“A unicorn?” I whispered. It was a coconut palm. A few steps further on I trod on something soft.

“A unicorn?!” It was a fallen mango. I slid three metres and only stopped when I hit a tree trunk.

“Fine. We'll leave our dignity at home,” I grumbled, pulling a spoonful of ice cream out of my backpack for courage. The moon climbed higher. And then I smelled it. Sweet and gentle. Vanilla.

I crept between the vines. Every step was dramatic. Every snapping twig sounded like a fanfare. And then I saw him. In a clearing bathed in moonlight stood a unicorn. White. Shining. His mane sparkled like candyfloss and his horn glowed with silver light. And he really was… nibbling vanilla orchids.

“Well, that beats the atlas,” I breathed.

The unicorn raised his head. “Who disturbs my midnight grazing?” sang a melodious voice. I gulped.

“Tino. Wooden. Looking for vanilla. And… friends.”

The unicorn looked me up and down. “Why should I give you my vanilla?”

I thought for a moment. Then I took out a GELADORO cup.

“Because I'll turn it into the best ice cream anyone has ever tasted.”

The unicorn narrowed his eyes.

“Vanilla ice cream?”

“Legendary.”

I mixed the base right there in the clearing. A little cream, a little sugar, a pinch of magic (all right, that was just the Caribbean breeze).

The unicorn tasted it. He closed his eyes. His mane rippled gently.

“That is… dignified.”

I smiled. “So?”

The unicorn bowed his head. His horn gently touched the orchids and several perfect vanilla pods fell straight into my hands. “Take as many as you can carry. But promise me the ice cream will bear my name.”

“I promise!”

On the plane home I carried the vanilla wrapped up as carefully as the greatest treasure in the world. At the factory I solemnly tipped the pods out in front of Tomšos.

“So they do exist,” he murmured.

“And they graze on vanilla,” I added proudly.

The result? Creamy and fragrant. A silky Caribbean vanilla ice cream that tasted like moonlight in the tropics. I raised my spoon and declared: “From today it shall be called…” I took a deep breath.

Jednorožec Vanilinka. The Vanilla Unicorn. Because sometimes you have to fly across an ocean, slip on a mango and talk to a horned creature under a full moon to find what's missing from the storeroom.

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer, a professional ingredient hunter and a huge fan of GELADORO ice cream.

This time Tomšos gave me a really important job.

“Tino, we need proper biscuits! Something fragrant, crunchy and delicious. Go out into the world and come up with something!”

So off I went to the African savannah. The sun was scorching, sand kept trickling into my shoes and I searched high and low. But no biscuits anywhere!

Suddenly a voice rang out:

“HALT! NOT ONE STEP FURTHER!”

On a rock stood a little meerkat. Standing up straight like a soldier, paws on hips and eyes as round as two enormous marbles.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I'm Keksík! Chief Guard of the Savannah, Head Lookout and Biscuit Expert!”

“Brilliant! You're exactly who I'm looking for.”

Keksík looked around and whispered:

“But we have a big problem. All our biscuits have disappeared!”

“All of them?!”

“Every last one! Even the one I hid under my pillow.”

“You've got a pillow?”

“Of course. I'm a professional!”

We started our investigation straight away. Keksík pulled out a magnifying glass, I searched the bushes, and together we looked for clues. Suddenly we heard: CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH!

“That's it!” cried Keksík. “The enemy is near!”

We crept behind a bush and there he was. An enormous ostrich sitting next to a pile of biscuits, stuffing himself as if he hadn't eaten for a week.

“Hey! You stole all our biscuits!” I shouted.

The ostrich got a fright, jumped up and started to run. Keksík dashed after him.

“Stop, you villain! In the name of all biscuits, you're under arrest!”

But after three steps he tripped and tumbled straight into a bush.

“Keksík, are you all right?”

“YES! I'M JUST DOING SECRET RECONNAISSANCE!”

In the end we caught up with the ostrich. It turned out he had only been hiding the biscuits because he wanted the biggest stash in the whole savannah.

“You know what?” I said. “Instead of hiding things, we should do something much better. Share!”

I took a creamy GELADORO out of my backpack, added crushed biscuits and made a really creamy ice cream full of crunchy pieces.

Keksík tasted it. His eyes lit up.

“CRUNCH! CRUNCH! THAT'S THE BEST ICE CREAM IN THE WORLD!”

The ostrich had some too and nodded happily.

Keksík stood up tall, puffed out his tummy and announced:

“Tino, this ice cream must be named after me. After all, I'm the greatest biscuit expert in the whole of Africa!”

“All right, Keksík. But on one condition.”

“What's that?”

“No more falling into bushes while on biscuit duty!”

Keksík had a think.

“I can't promise that.”

And that's how a new flavour was born: Surikata Keksík, which means Biscuit Meerkat. Creamy, delicious and properly crunchy!

Because sometimes all it takes is one little meerkat, one hungry ostrich and a great big pile of biscuits to make a big adventure.

And remember: if you hear a CRUNCH!, it might just be Keksík checking that you've got enough biscuits!

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer, a GELADORO ice cream lover and someone who always somehow ends up in the middle of a proper adventure.

This time Tomšos and I had arrived in a tropical rainforest. It was hot, the birds were singing and there were coconut palms everywhere. I was just enjoying a scoop of ice cream when a coconut whizzed right past me.

“LOOK OUT! MY BRAKES DON'T WORK!”

Behind the coconut came a little monkey hurtling along. He was sitting on a second coconut, gripping it like a racing driver holds a steering wheel, and shouting:

“OUT OF THE WAY! I'M TRAINING!”

The coconut shot past me, crashed into a palm tree, and the monkey landed right in a heap of banana leaves.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

The monkey leapt up, brushed off his fur and proudly introduced himself:

“I'm Kokosák! The best coconut racer for miles around!”

“And why do you race on a coconut?”

“Because bananas are too slippery!”

That sounded like a fairly sensible argument to me.

Kokosák explained that every year he holds a big coconut ball race. But this year he had a problem. Nobody wanted to race with him, because he always ended up in a bush, in a stream or on somebody else's palm tree.

“I'll race with you!” I offered.

Kokosák's eyes lit up.

“Really?! Then put on your helmet!”

“What helmet?”

He handed me half a coconut shell.

“This one. Safety first!”

We lined up at the start. Kokosák sat in his racing coconut, I sat in the other one, and a local parrot started the race.

“THREE… TWO… ONE… CRUNCH!”

And off we flew!

Kokosák zigzagged between the palms while I clung to my coconut like a limpet. We raced past a banana tree, over a sand dune and very nearly over a sleeping crocodile.

“Kokosák, slow down!”

“SLOW DOWN? THAT'S NOT IN MY DICTIONARY!”

Just then a little stream popped up in front of us. Kokosák just grinned.

“GET READY TO JUMP!”

We took off and flew through the air. The landing was a bit… wet. We ended up right in a pond.

Kokosák swam out, pushed back his soggy fur and asked:

“So? Did we win?”

“I don't know. But I think we've just invented coconut water skiing.”

We both burst out laughing.

After the race we sat down in the shade of a palm. I took a GELADORO out of my backpack and had an idea. I added real coconut flesh to the creamy base and made an exotic coconut ice cream.

Kokosák tasted one spoonful. Then another. And then he hugged the cup tight.

“Tino! This is better than winning every race in the world!”

“So what shall we call it?”

Kokosák sat up straight, put on his coconut helmet and shouted:

“After me, of course! Opičák Kokosák!”

And that's how a new exotic flavour was born: Opičák Kokosák, the Coconut Monkey. Smooth, coconutty and full of tropical holiday feeling.

And do you know what I learned? Never race a monkey on a coconut. Because he's got four hands, a tail and no brakes at all!

And Kokosák? He's already training for the next race. Apparently this time he's riding a watermelon. Now that will be a disaster!

Hello! I'm Tino. A full time wooden puppet and a sailor on a summer job. Yes, you read that right. I'm sailing from India to the Czech Republic, because I have a very important task. To deliver a heap of fragrant bananas to the GELADORO factory. Tomšos said: “Tino, the bananas must arrive safe and sound! I'm giving you a big responsibility!”

And my job on the ship? Scrubbing the deck, telling the sailors jokes and combing their beards so they don't get tangled in the ropes. “Why does a banana never slip on itself?” I asked the captain. “Because it keeps its peel under control!” The captain laughed so hard his eyebrows flapped like a pirate flag.

The sea was calm and the bananas were stacked in crates. I whistled and polished the deck so hard I nearly polished my own knees. And then… then it came. First just a little wave. Then a bigger one. And then a GIANT MEGA WAVE. The ship lurched, the sailors toppled into the barrels and I bit down on my broom so I wouldn't float away.

“There's something underneath us!” shouted the captain, and out of the depths leapt an enormous blue shark! He wasn't scary, more… curious and hungry. And a little bit dim. “Hey, where are you taking those yellow things?” he bellowed, slapping the water with his tail so hard the deck got a salty shower. “They're bananas for the Czech Republic!” I shouted. “For GELADORO ice cream!”

The shark swam a circle round the ship. “Bananas? I love experimenting.” And before we could say “mind the keel!”, he dived, whipped up a giant whirlpool… and with it pulled up blue spirulina from the deep. It swirled around the ship like a water tornado! Shhhhhhhhh! Water splashed onto the deck and all the bananas got coated in blue, like schnitzels in breadcrumbs at Christmas.

“We've got blue bananas!” cried a deckhand. “That's impossible!” gasped the captain. I looked into a crate. It was true: the bananas were wrapped in a blue swirl and looked like sea comets. And that's when it clicked.

“Stop the ship!” I shouted. “This isn't a problem. It's treasure!”

The captain straightened his beard. “Treasure? We've got blue bananas!”

“Exactly!” I jumped up onto a crate. “Banana is sweet and gentle… and spirulina? It's blue, mysterious, from the sea, and strong! This isn't an accident. This is land and ocean coming together!” Meanwhile the shark was watching the deck curiously and nudging the stern with his snout.

I reached into my backpack and took out a cup of creamy banana GELADORO. I opened it, mashed it up and stirred in the last of the spirulina sparkling on the deck. “Moment of truth,” I whispered. I took a spoonful. Tasted it. Froze. Then I spun round and round like a ship's compass in a storm.

“I'm spinning with happiness!” I cried. “It's as creamy as a banana pillow and as fresh as an ocean wave!”

The shark opened his jaws. I tossed him a spoonful. Chomp. Silence. The shark began to swim round and round the ship, and the water around him turned blue, but this time calmly and happily. “This is the best experiment of my life!” he boomed.

The captain had a taste too. “Tino… this is genius.”

I looked at the blue bananas, at the shark, at the swirl in the water. And then I made the big announcement: “Friends! We haven't just made a problem. We've just made a new flavour!”

The shark leapt out of the water and did a spectacular somersault. “It shall be called…” dramatic pause. Žralok Banános. The Banana Shark.

The sailors threw their caps in the air. And me? I couldn't wait to tell Tomšos back at the GELADORO factory, because sometimes the best flavours aren't invented in a laboratory. Sometimes they're born on the deck of a ship, when a shark accidentally turns your bananas blue. And so it wasn't only bananas sailing from India to the Czech Republic. A new legend was sailing with them.

Hello. I'm Tino. Wooden, but a very lively adventurer. And an expert in one really important thing: apricot sorbet.

One day Tomšos, the gelato master, called me over and put a bowl of sugar in front of me.

“Tino,” he said seriously, “it's time for the advanced class. You're going to make salted caramel.” I froze. Salted caramel? That sounded grown up, dangerous and sticky.

“Sure,” I nodded confidently, even though there were two big gaps in my head: I thought caramel was really honey and… that honey was something you hunt. And that pandas hunt it. So I set off to find an expert: at Prague Zoo.

In the bamboo grove I met a panda. Round, black and white, and busy crunching bamboo with the look of someone who had no idea they were about to become part of a disaster.

“Hello,” I said importantly. “I need to hunt some caramel.”

The panda stopped chewing. “Hunt… what?”

“Honey, of course. Caramel. It's the same thing, isn't it? And you pandas are honey hunters!”

The panda thought about it and rolled onto her side. “Mostly we eat bamboo.”

“I know, that's just a cover story! You just can't be bothered,” I waved my hand. “Come on!” I smuggled the panda past the gatekeeper and we went back to the factory. On the table were sugar, cream, butter and salt. The panda sat on the table. Literally. With all her weight.

“So where's the beehive?” she asked.

“This is a modern beehive,” I explained, and tipped the sugar into a pan. I switched on the hob. And waited. The sugar began to melt. It bubbled and darkened. It looked… suspiciously un-honey-like.

“That honey is sort of… burning,” the panda remarked.

“That must be part of the hunt,” I reassured her. Suddenly the sugar turned into golden brown lava.

“Tino,” said the panda, “I don't think honey usually starts smoking.”

That's when it dawned on me. “Wait… caramel isn't honey?”

“No.”

“And pandas don't hunt honey?”

“No.”

We looked at each other. Then at the pan. And then it all kicked off.

“We have to put everything in!” I panicked. I poured in the cream. The panda threw in a piece of bamboo.

“That's for texture!” she explained. I added the butter. The panda added salt. Lots of salt. An awful lot of salt. The mixture erupted into a bubbling fountain that shot caramel all the way up to the ceiling. We looked like two walking chocolates.

“This is salted caramel, not a salty ocean!” I shouted, stirring with a wooden spoon that kept sticking to my hand.

Meanwhile the panda tasted the mixture. “It's… sweet. And salty. And a little bit bamboo-ish.”

“Bamboo isn't supposed to be in it!”

“But I thought if we were hunting honey, it had to be from the forest!”

“WE DON'T HUNT HONEY!” we both shouted at once.

Silence. Bubbling. Drip. Drip. The caramel began to turn smooth. Glossy. Fragrant. Slowly we stopped panicking. The panda stopped throwing in ingredients, and I stopped inventing theories about honey hunting. All that was left was stirring. Calm and focused.

Just then Tomšos walked in. He looked around.

A ceiling covered in caramel.
A sticky floor.
A panda with a wooden spoon.
Me, coated in sugar like a wooden sweetie.

“Tino…” he said slowly. “Explanation?”

I took a deep breath. “Caramel isn't honey. Pandas don't hunt honey. Bamboo doesn't belong in the recipe. And salt gets measured.”

Tomšos tasted a spoonful. He raised an eyebrow. “It's… surprisingly good.”

The panda beamed. “So we caught it?” “No,” sighed Tomšos. “You cooked it.”

In the end we used the caramel in the ice cream. Smooth, buttery, with a pinch of salt.

The panda licked her paw. “So next time we don't hunt honey?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Next time we ask what it actually is first.”

“And the bamboo?”

“Maybe… a limited edition.”

And that's how a new flavour was born: Salted Caramel Panda Karamelka, the Caramel Panda, with absolutely zero honey and zero bamboo.

Hello! My name is Tino and I'm a wooden, handcrafted boy who loves big adventures. And when someone sends me on a mission, I take it veeery seriously.

It all started in our factory. My human dad Tomšos was standing by the pasteuriser, tasting the chocolate base and stirring with a frown. “Tino,” he said seriously. “We need real cocoa beans. Not ordinary ones, the very best. The kind that have a story.”

“So… an expedition?” I asked, already straightening my braces. Tomšos nodded. “Yes, your new mission.”

I packed the most important thing into my backpack: a giant supply of ice cream. Because if you've got GELADORO, you've got a plan. And if you've got a plan, you don't panic. Usually.

After a long journey I arrived in the land where cocoa trees grow. Lots and lots of cocoa trees. Côte d'Ivoire. And there I met him. A little hare. He had ears like radar, a nose for chocolate, and he didn't say much. “You're not from round here,” he said suspiciously.

“Correct. I'm on a chocolate mission,” I replied. “I need cocoa beans. And the best ones… exactly like… those ones over there on that enormous pile,” I said, pointing behind a tree, and I was already stuffing them into my pockets and my hat.

The hare sized me up. “Then you'll need my help, Smartie. And fast legs.”

“Why?” I asked.

At that moment the jungle fell silent and out of the shadows stepped HIM. A huge, majestic monkey with shiny chocolate eyes. They called him General Banana. He wasn't just a bit mean, he was mean in an organised way. “Leave my beans alone, woodentop!” he thundered. “They're my ammunition supply!”

“But we want to turn them into honest gelato chocolate!” I protested.

“Never heard of it,” snorted General Banana, and shoved us so hard that it took me fifteen minutes to hop back. The hare too.

“Stay calm,” I told myself. “I've got a plan.” I opened my backpack and took out a GELADORO cup. Creamy and perfectly matured.

“What, are you going to fight with a spoon?” the hare asked me.

“Don't be silly. I'm going to fight with flavour. Nobody can resist good ice cream.” I set out some bait on the field edge. Creamy and smooth, with a light hint of banana. But the General smelled it before he saw it.

“What… is… that?” he sniffed the wind.

“A trade for your ammunition,” the hare answered quick as a flash. “Great idea,” I whispered into his big ear.

The General tasted it. He froze. “Hmmm, better than a pile of chocolate grenades,” he admitted quietly, sighed and said: “Take what you need and disappear, quickly. But I want one more cup,” he added.

“You'll get two,” said the hare triumphantly.

“What? Why? Some trader you are, you silly billy,” I said crossly to the hare. “Oh, never mind… it's a deal. You get two each.”

After a week of romping through the forest and becoming best friends with the hare, I went back home to Tomšos. The roasting was strict, the aroma was deep, slightly bitter and full of cocoa notes. We ground the beans into cocoa mass, mixed it with the matured base, chilled it, whipped it and kept a close eye on the texture. Tomšos tasted it. He closed his eyes and smiled. “This has a story. What shall we call it?” he asked me.

I answered without a moment's hesitation: Zajíc Čokoušek. The Chocolate Hare. Sometimes you have to cross half a jungle, outwit General Banana and use ice cream as a tool of trade and diplomacy.

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer, a professional hunter of the very best ingredients and someone who doesn't scare easily. Well… hardly ever.

One morning I arrived at the factory and Tomšos looked as mysterious as if he had just discovered buried treasure.

“Tino! Something special is waiting for us today. We're going to make the most delicious creamy pistachio ice cream in the world!”

“That sounds amazing!” I cheered. “And what do we need?”

Tomšos put a little bowl of green pistachios on the table.

“This. The very best pistachios. And you have to prepare them properly.”

I looked at the bowl. Then at Tomšos. And back at the bowl.

“Is that it? All that fuss over a few nuts?”

Tomšos smiled. “Just you wait. Pistachios are small, but their flavour is enormous.”

I picked one up and started to examine it.

“Hmm… green colour, hard shell… It looks like a little alien!”

“It's a pistachio, Tino.”

“I see. So where are its antennae?”

Tomšos laughed and explained that the real pistachio flavour is hidden inside. That's why we use top quality pistachio paste, which gives the ice cream its unmistakable taste.

But right at that moment there was a strange crackling sound.

CRACK!

One pistachio rolled out of the bowl. Then a second. And a third!

“Look out!” I shouted. “A pistachio rebellion!”

I dived after them, but the pistachios were rolling across the floor in every direction. One rolled under a machine, another hid behind a sack of sugar, and the third… stopped right in front of Tomšos's shoe.

“Got it!” I cried triumphantly.

“Tino, that's your own wooden ball from yesterday.”

“Oh. Well, I was looking for that too.”

When we finally had everything ready, we got to work. We added honest pistachio paste to the creamy base, and soon the factory was filled with a wonderful smell.

Tomšos scooped up the first spoonful and handed it to me.

I tasted it.

At first I said nothing. Then I closed my eyes. And finally I shouted:

“IT'S GREEN TREASURE!”

“That good?” asked Tomšos.

“Good? Tomšos, it's so good I'd love just one more spoonful!”

Tomšos smiled. “Only one?”

“Well… maybe two. Or three. But purely for quality control!”

And that's how our special GELADORO creamy pistachio ice cream was born. Honest, creamy and full of real pistachio flavour.

And me?

Ever since that day I've had my own little bowl of pistachios at the factory. Not so I can look for them. So I can taste them. But Tomšos has to hide it from me every day. Because I have one peculiar quality…

When it comes to pistachios, I never know when I've had enough! 😄

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer, a professional ingredient hunter and a huge fan of GELADORO ice cream.

This time Tomšos had a really unusual wish.

“Tino, we need to find some proper blackcurrants. Fragrant, juicy and beautifully sweet and sour. The kind that make a wonderful sorbet!”

So off I went into the forest. I walked past bushes, peeked under leaves and looked for blackcurrant patches. But not a single berry anywhere!

Suddenly a voice rang out:

“CAAAW! ATTENTION! THE CONCERT IS STARTING!”

Down from a branch above me hopped a little black bird with a yellow beak. He straightened up, fluffed his feathers and began to sing.

“That's beautiful!” I clapped.

The blackbird took a bow.

“Thank you, thank you. I am Kos Rybízáček. The best singer for miles around. Some say even further.”

“You wouldn't happen to know where I can find blackcurrants, would you?”

The blackbird stopped short.

“Blackcurrants? Of course! But first you must meet one important condition.”

“What's that?”

“You must come with me to today's forest singing competition. Without my voice it would be a complete disaster!”

So I agreed.

We arrived at a big forest clearing. Sitting there were hares, squirrels, hedgehogs and even one very serious owl wearing glasses.

Kos Rybízáček stepped onto a tree stump, took a deep breath and launched into:

“CAAAW! SQUEEEAK! CUCKOOOO!”

The squirrels covered their ears. A hare jumped so high he landed on his own head, and the owl fell off her branch.

“What a performance!” I whispered.

The blackbird bowed proudly.

“You see? The audience is deeply moved!”

But just then there was a loud rumble. Everybody scattered.

“What was that?” I cried.

The owl put her glasses back on.

“That wasn't thunder. That was a bear trying to sing!”

From behind a tree appeared an enormous bear. In his paws he was holding a bowl full of blackcurrants.

“I wanted to perform too,” he grumbled sadly. “But everybody laughs at me.”

Kos Rybízáček thought for a moment. For the first time all morning, he wasn't quite so proud.

“You know what? Let's try singing together.”

And so they began. The blackbird sang high, the bear sang low, and I joined in. But my wooden voice sounded like a creaky door.

“Tino, you'd better stick to ice cream!” called the blackbird.

Everyone burst out laughing.

As a reward, the blackbird offered me his bowl of blackcurrants.

“I picked these at a secret spot beyond the stream. There are so many blackcurrants there I can't even eat them all!”

“That's exactly what I need!” I cheered.

We followed the blackbird and it was true! The whole hillside was covered in bushes full of black berries.

Rybízáček sat on a branch and sang happily.

“Who seeks the currant, heed the blackbird's call. The best ones grow where the whole forest sings for all!”

I picked a full basket and headed back to the factory.

Tomšos was already waiting.

“Well, Tino? Have we got blackcurrants?”

“We have! And a singer who thinks he's a nightingale!”

We made a beautifully fresh, fruity blackcurrant sorbet. When Kos Rybízáček tasted it, for a moment he went completely quiet.

“Well?” I asked.

The blackbird gulped.

“This is so good I'd happily sing another song for it!”

“Just not too loudly, please,” I laughed.

And that's how Kos Rybízáček was born, which means something like Blackcurrant Blackbird: a refreshing blackcurrant sorbet with a taste that would make even the grumpiest grump burst into song.

And if you ever hear a loud CAAAW in the forest, don't be scared. It's just Kos Rybízáček practising for his next concert. Apparently he has even entered the forest opera singers' competition. The bear will be his main rival. And me? I'll be bringing earplugs and a cup of ice cream!

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden puppet, an adventure lover and the official taster at the GELADORO factory.

One sunny morning Tomšos called me over to the strawberry patch. “Tino,” he said seriously, “these strawberries are special. You're going to guard them for me. Not a single one can go missing!”

The patch was beautiful. The red strawberries shone like little lanterns and smelled so sweet my knees went wobbly. “I can do that,” I said confidently. “I've got eyes like a hawk and a backpack full of ice cream.” But…

The next morning three strawberries were missing. On the third day five, and by the fourth day half a crate! “This can't be happening!” I grumbled, following tiny footprints in the soil. Then I saw her. Small, ginger, fluffy… A SQUIRREL! She was sitting on the fence looking innocent, holding a strawberry bigger than her head. “Hey!” I shouted. “Those are our strawberries! Go and gather some nuts, you little robber!”

The squirrel wiped her paw on her whiskers. “Oh please. Squirrels aren't just about nuts. We collect those for winter. In summer I'm on a strawberry diet.”

I blinked. I hadn't thought of that. “But this patch is for GELADORO sorbets!”

“And this is summer,” she replied, and whoosh: another strawberry vanished before I could even draw breath.

Right then, time for action. I hid behind a bush, opened my backpack and took out a cup of hazelnut ice cream. I carefully spread it around the patch like a fragrant trap. “Operation Trickery begins,” I whispered.

The squirrel jumped down from the tree. She sniffed the air. Slowly she came closer. “What's that?” she murmured. “Nuts? Is it autumn already?”

I grinned into the bush. “No autumn, you silly thing. Just… a little trick.”

The squirrel took three careful little steps. Then a fourth. “It… it smells like the forest after rain… like the forest before winter!” she gasped. She dipped the tip of her paw in. Licked it. Her tail puffed up to the size of a broom.

“This isn't ordinary. This is… frostily nutty!”

I leapt out of the bush so dramatically that I bonked my head on a watering can. “EXACTLY! And you have just been caught in the zone of a top secret ice cream operation!”

The squirrel tried to run away. She whizzed past the strawberries, bounced off a crate, somersaulted over a rake, did a pirouette in mid air… and landed right inside an empty cup. Silence. “Got you,” I said.

From inside the cup came a happy voice: “Can we do that again?”

I folded my arms. “That's enough! You steal my strawberries and I set traps for you. This isn't a game, this is war.”

The squirrel climbed out, covered in cream, and stood up to face me. “War? I call it research.”

Hello, I'm Tino! A wooden puppet who loves adventures and… ice cream, of course. I always carry a backpack full of GELADORO, and today it was going to come in handier than ever. Tomšos and I were on an exotic expedition, discovering wild fruit for our limited edition sorbets.

For a little while I wandered off from the expedition, made my way through a huge jungle and came across the wild River Ganges. It was wide, the current was crazy, and I thought: “A rope bridge! I can do this! With a bit of courage and a bit of sense… and most of all with my ice cream!”

Suddenly an enormous Bengal tiger burst out of the bushes. I thought: “Hey, great, a new friend…” But uh oh! The tiger blocked my way and growled so fiercely he nearly shook the ice cream out of my hand. “Who are you and where are you going?” he roared. I said quickly: “I… I'm just crossing the river!” The tiger swished his tail and barred my path with a giant paw. “You're not going anywhere,” he thundered.

Then I had an idea… backpack, ice cream and quick action! I grabbed the mango one, because nobody can say no to mango, and splat! I threw it on the ground right in front of the tiger. The ice cream ran everywhere and covered his nose in a sweet, sticky layer. First the tiger growled, then he licked himself all over. “Hey, that's not bad,” he mumbled. “But I'm still not letting you through!”

I reached for another cup. My heart was beating like a jungle drum, my eyes were wide with fright, and I knew that this time it had to be a really big move. Cup in hand, I took a step forward. “Right then, tiger… get ready for a mango attack!” I cried. And then it began. The ice cream shot through the air like a yellow rocket. The tiger blinked, pulled a face and tried to lick up every drop. But meanwhile I had jumped onto the rope bridge swaying over the river. The tiger watched me with curious eyes and tried to catch me with his paw. “Hop!” I shouted, and threw another cup of ice cream under his feet. The mango ran all over the rope and the tiger slipped. He caught hold with his tail and started wriggling like a fly in a spider's web.

I know, you shouldn't waste food, especially not ice cream, but… “Haha!” I called as I hopped over the wobbly planks of the bridge. The tiger roared so loudly his stripes shook, and he waved his tail so hard it looked as if he might start a mango tsunami. In the end he sat down, licked up the last bits of ice cream and… to my surprise, he let me pass!

“You got me,” he grinned, showing his teeth, but there was a friendly twinkle in his eyes. “Cross the river, but next time… next time bring me more ice cream!”

When I reached the other side, I looked back. The tiger was smiling at me and happily swishing his tail. “You know what, Tygr Mangouš…” I said, which means Mango Tiger. “Just wait till I tell Tomšos tonight. I bet he'll add mango to my adventure edition and name it after you!”

And so danger turned into friendship, and I was already looking forward to my next journey, because my backpack full of ice cream is always ready for crazy new ideas.

Hello. I'm Tino. A wooden collector of things that can be turned into ice cream. I had just been on holiday at Granny and Grandpa's. The forest smelled of pine needles, the air was warm and I had a clear plan. Pick blueberries for a sorbet.

The reality? A disaster. “They used to grow round here somewhere,” Grandpa muttered, picking up… pine cones.

“Look, a mushroom!” called Granny, happily disappearing into the ferns.

“We're not looking for mushrooms or Christmas decorations!” I protested, searching through the little bushes. “We're looking for blueberries! Small, blue, sweet and round!”

Nothing. Not one. Just a spider looking at me as if I'd mixed up the forest with a sweet shop.

After an hour of searching I sat down on a tree stump. I took a GELADORO cup out of my backpack and fortified myself with two heroic spoonfuls. “Right, Tino,” I said to myself. “Every great discovery starts with a meeting.”

So I called… a meeting. I sat on the moss and waited to see if anyone would turn up. And that's when HE flew in. A butterfly. With wonderful wings like a painted sky: blue and purple with golden dots. He looked like a flying work of art.

“Good afternoon,” I said politely. “I'm looking for blueberries. Lots and lots of blueberries. You haven't seen any, have you?”

The butterfly floated gracefully down onto a leaf. “Perhaps,” he replied in a voice as light as a breeze. “But information comes at a price.”

I gulped. “How much? I've got a bit of ice cream.”

The butterfly smiled. “I'm not a bear. I'm a butterfly.”

“So what do you eat?”

“Nectar,” he said with dignity. “Sweet flower nectar. That's our fuel.”

I see. So it was a deal. “All right,” I nodded. “I'll bring you that nectar potion.”

“Not just any nectar,” the butterfly added. “The one from the purple bellflowers by the stream. The finest vintage.”

Of course. Nothing less would do.

I picked up my backpack, had one more fortifying spoonful of ice cream (strategic energy!) and set off. The journey wasn't easy. I climbed over a fallen tree trunk like a mountaineer without a rope, I wriggled under a branch like an anaconda. Once I slipped on the moss and nearly ended up like a wooden skittle.

“This is for the sorbet,” I puffed. “This is for the greater good!”

By the stream I stood in front of the purple bellflowers with my hands on my hips. “Right, little flowers. Cooperate.” I leaned over the first flower and tried blowing into it, hoping the nectar would just slide out. It didn't. I blew harder. The flower sprang back and bopped me on the forehead, and I staggered back like a defeated knight. “Fine. Diplomacy has failed.” I tried with my finger: poke. The flower swayed, I lost my balance and ended up with my nose right inside the bell. I had pollen behind my ears and looked like an Easter gingerbread biscuit.

“This is a secret technique,” I grumbled, carefully tipping the stem over a little bowl. Drip. Nothing. Drip. Nothing. “Pleeease?” I whispered in despair. And then, splosh! The whole bell swung and splashed nectar right in my face. I licked my lip. “Hm. Quality of the vintage confirmed.”

In the end I lay down on the moss, holding a flower in one hand and the little bowl in the other, my tongue sticking out in concentration, and coaxed out the sweet drops millimetre by millimetre, as if I were cracking the forest's safe. When I'd finished I was sticky, dusty with pollen and looked like a wooden doughnut. But a victorious doughnut, with a bowl full of nectar.

The butterfly was waiting for me. I handed him the full bowl. He tasted it. He closed his eyes. “That's it,” he whispered blissfully. “A forest symphony.”

“So, blueberries now?” I reminded him quickly.

The butterfly rose into the air. “Follow me, little adventurer.”

Off we went: well, he flew while I ran, stumbled and occasionally got cross about my short legs. Then we pushed through a thicket. And there it was. A carpet of blueberries. Blue. Shiny. Never ending.

“This… this is blueberry paradise!” I gasped.

The butterfly smiled. “Sometimes you just need to know where to look.”

I picked like crazy. I filled one bowl, then another, then my pockets and my tummy. In the end I held three full bowls of blueberries above my head like a battle trophy.

“Tomšos will be thrilled!” I laughed.

As I headed back to Granny and Grandpa (Grandpa had three extra pine cones, Granny two baskets of mushrooms), I held the blueberries like treasure. I looked at the butterfly. “You know what?” I said grandly. “This sorbet won't be an ordinary one.”

The butterfly circled in the air.

“From now on it shall be called…” I took a dramatic breath. “Motýl Borůvinka.” The Blueberry Butterfly. Because every great sorbet needs a story. And every little adventurer needs a butterfly who knows where the right blueberries grow.

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer and a professional hunter of the best ingredients in the world. This time Tomšos had an unusual wish at the factory.

“Tino, we need really fragrant oranges. The kind that make the very best orange sorbet!”

“Yes, sir!” I saluted. “Oranges it is! And if need be, I'll bring a whole lorry load!”

I travelled all the way to a sunny orange grove, where the trees were practically glowing with orange fruit. But the moment I stepped between the trees, I heard:

“PRRRRRRRRRR!”

Something enormous whooshed past me and showered me with oranges.

“Look out! Orange avalanche!” I cried, and hid behind a tree.

Out from behind it came a big elephant with an enormous trunk.

“Sorry!” he boomed. “That was me. Pomerančák. My trunk has a mind of its own, you see.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“One time I just want to wave it, another time it sneezes, and the third time…” The elephant took a breath. “…AAACHOOOOO!”

More oranges flew in every direction. One landed right on my head.

“I think your trunk needs some good manners,” I remarked.

Pomerančák drooped his ears. “I'd love to help with the harvest. But the other elephants laugh at me. They say I'm a walking orange catapult.”

I had an idea.

“What if we used your trunk a bit differently? Let's try picking the oranges instead of launching them!”

Pomerančák carefully stretched his trunk towards a tree. Slowly, ever so slowly, he took hold of one orange. Then a second. And a third.

“See? You can do it!” I cheered.

But Pomerančák was concentrating so hard he forgot to breathe. His cheeks puffed up like two balloons.

“Pomerančák, breathe!”

“I can't! When I concentrate, I hold my breath!”

And then it came.

“AAAAAACHOOOOOOOO!”

Such an orange spray shot out of his trunk that for a moment the whole grove turned into orange rain. Oranges tumbled from the trees like in the craziest harvest in the world.

At first Pomerančák got a fright. Then he burst out laughing so loudly that even the branches shook.

“I did it!”

“You certainly did!” I laughed. “Only next time let's try harvesting without the sneezing.”

We loaded a whole cart with the juiciest oranges and took them to Tomšos at the factory. He turned them into a fragrant, refreshing GELADORO orange sorbet.

Pomerančák tasted the first spoonful and blissfully closed his eyes.

“Yum! Now that really is an orange bombshell!”

And that's how the new sorbet Pomerančák, the Orange Elephant, was born, with 70% fruit. And do you know the best bit?

Pomerančák isn't ashamed of his trunk any more. He's just strictly forbidden from sneezing anywhere near orchards! Because you never know when an ordinary sneeze will turn into a proper orange disaster!

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden puppet, an adventure lover and the official taster of GELADORO ice cream.

Tomšos needed apricots ready for the afternoon's production, but… they grew sooo high that even my knees started to complain. “I've got an idea! I need a climbing specialist,” I said, remembering Méďa the bear. Nimble and clever, but sometimes a little bit lazy. “Let's see what works on you.” I took out a cup of ricotta and honey ice cream. “If you help me, this honey treat is all yours.”

Méďa scrambled up onto a branch like a ninja, his eyes shining with concentration. “Tino, pass me the baskets!” he growled.

“Sure thing, boss!” I shouted, getting ready to coordinate from the ground. But before we had properly started, down from the sky swooped a thrush: small, but all the cheekier for it.

“What are you two doing up there?” he whistled, and began pecking at the branch under Méďa. We paid no attention and carried on picking apricots. I caught the full baskets down below, and Méďa, high in the branches and as nimble as an acrobat, filled the empty ones again. The thrush circled the treetop once more, teasing us: “Those apricots are mine!” and started knocking them off one after another.

“Watch out, Méďa!” I shouted, as one landed right on my hat. Méďa growled and hung upside down from a branch by his feet. “Tino, we need a plan! That bird is driving me up the wall!”

I smiled and reached into my backpack. I took out a cup of ice cream, gave it a stir, used my spoon as a catapult and then flung a dollop right into the thrush's path. The sea buckthorn sorbet splashed out like an icy rainbow. Such a waste, but… the thrush wobbled and lost his balance. Méďa quickly jumped aside, grabbed a few apricots and dropped them down into the waiting baskets. “Hooray! It works!” he cheered, waving his paws.

The thrush tried to move, but thanks to the sticky, frosty coating he was more muddled than at a try out for the summer club for birds of prey. He didn't know which way was up, and in the end he flew off to the next tree, where he accidentally sat down in a cranes' nest.

“That's how it's done!” laughed Méďa, his eyes shining like two little apricot suns. All the apricots were safe. And do you know what happened next? When Tomšos saw how we had rescued all the apricots and picked them together, he exclaimed: “Tino, Méďa, you deserve a reward!”

Méďa beamed. “Really?”

“Of course,” he said grandly. “Your efforts will not go unnoticed. The new apricot sorbet flavour will bear your name: Méďa Meruňkáč.”

Méďa licked his back and I shook his big bear paw. “Méďa Meruňkáč, the Apricot Bear: a sorbet for brave, hungry and adventurous souls.”

Hello, I'm Tino. Wooden, but a very brave adventurer. And an expert in one really important thing: ice cream.
And my backpack? Always full of GELADORO. My secret weapon, my fuel and my whole life.

Today I had a raspberry challenge. I wanted to surprise Tomšos, the master of our gelato, and I needed to pick the sweetest raspberries for a sorbet, the kind that taste like forest magic. I tightened the straps of my backpack and set off into the forest.

I arrived at the raspberry grove, where the red berries sparkled in the sun like little lanterns. Except they were being guarded by Kambo the wolf. The greedy guts. They're for everyone, after all, and right now especially for me.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” growled the wolf, watching my every move.
“Just… having a little look around,” I fibbed.
“This patch is mine!” He came closer and… whisked my backpack off me with his tail like a forest magician. I was disarmed. My ice cream? Gone! My energy supply? Gone! My confidence? Gone!

“Right, Tino. Ice cream power won't work here, we'll have to outsmart him.” But who could help? Why, a crafty fox, of course.

“Hm…. I understand, you need your backpack back and you want to pick some raspberries?” the fox checked.
“Exactly,” I nodded. “And I'd rather not get eaten while I'm at it.”

The fox smirked. “We can manage that. But it'll take a plan worthy of a master.”

“A plan worthy of a master?” I asked nervously. “That sounds dangerous.”

The fox smirked even more. “Danger is my middle name. Watch this.”

We crept up to the raspberries. I hid behind a bush, while the fox ran round to the other side of the grove and tied a red scarf on his head. “Hey, wolf… I'm off to Grandma's, do you know which way it is?” he called, waving his paw so over the top it was like something out of a comic strip. Kambo spun round and charged after him. It worked.

Meanwhile I slid quietly, very quietly, like a leaf in the wind, across the earth towards my backpack. My heart was pounding, every step felt like walking a tightrope over a canyon. “Almost… there…” I muttered, while the fox played Little Red Riding Hood to lead Kambo as far from the grove as possible.

In all the commotion I slipped on some raspberry juice. Meanwhile the fox climbed a tree, did a somersault and shouted: “Tino, it's now or never!” So I pushed off, leapt over a log and landed right next to my backpack. My heart was beating like a drum as I watched Kambo crawling through the fallen leaves.

“Tino, quick!” shouted the fox into a railway tunnel, to throw the wolf off the trail. Kambo spun round, tripped over a root and bit his own tail.

I grabbed my backpack and dashed in among the raspberry bushes. Every step felt as if the forest had turned into the wildest rollercoaster. When I bent down for the first raspberries, the fox signalled to me: “Use your hands, your feet and your head, everything counts!”

And so I started picking: one pocket, then another. Meanwhile Kambo was trying to work out where on earth we were. But the fox kept leading him away with fake shouts.

“Perfect!” I whispered as I picked. “Now we've got everything under control.”

After a few minutes my shirt was full of raspberries, each one like a little jewel. The fox landed next to me, licked his red scarf and said: “Now it's time for a sweet ending. Shall we tickle him?”

“Are you mad?” I took a cup of poppy seed ice cream out of my backpack and threw it in front of Kambo.
“Even a cross wolf deserves a treat,” I whispered into the silence. Kambo stared at us for a moment, howled and then bit through the lid. The delicious, dreamy taste of poppy seeds filled his mouth and in no time at all he was fast asleep. Zzzzzzzzz.

When we got back, the fox and I started mixing the raspberry sorbet. “And you know what?” I said to the fox, as I added the last spoonful, “From now on I'm going to call you Maliník.”

The fox smirked, and I knew that our ice cream would get its name from Tomšos too. Lišák Maliník, the Raspberry Fox: a forest sorbet full of laughter, adventure and raspberry courage.

Hello! I'm Tino. A wooden adventurer, a hunter of the very best ingredients and a GELADORO ice cream lover.

One day Tomšos gave me a new task.

“Tino, I'd like to make something really refreshing. Find us some beautifully ripe kiwis for a new sorbet!”

So off I went to the tropical jungle. But instead of kiwis, I came across a strange creature. He was hanging upside down from a branch with his eyes closed, and he looked as if he had just set off for the land of dreams.

“Hello! Anybody home?”

The sloth slowly opened one eye.

“I'm… Kiwísek. And I was just having an important dream.”

“What about?”

“About a giant kiwi. It was so big I couldn't eat it even in a whole week.”

“How interesting! Do you happen to know where I can find some kiwis?”

Kiwísek thought about it.

“I do. But first you have to do one thing. You have to wake me up.”

“But you're already awake!”

“That's what you think…”

And with that he closed his eyes again and started to snore.

I tried clapping. Nothing. I shook the branch. Nothing. I even held a GELADORO cup right under his nose.

Suddenly his little snout twitched.

“I can smell… something good…”

He opened his eyes, stretched out a paw and took a little on the tip of his claw.

“So, are you awake now?”

“Now I am. But only for tasting.”

In the end he told me that somewhere in the jungle there was a secret kiwi garden. But the path to it led through a place where everyone gets lost if they don't pay attention.

Off we went. Kiwísek led me between giant leaves and vines. Every now and then he stopped for a nap, and meanwhile I explored the area.

Suddenly we came to a clearing. In the middle stood an enormous bush full of kiwis.

“HERE!” I shouted.

Kiwísek opened his eyes and smiled.

“That's the one!”

But as I reached for the first fruit, there was a loud:

“ZZZZZZZZZZ!”

Kiwísek had fallen asleep standing up, and his snoring set the branches swaying. The kiwis started falling one after another!

“Look out! Falling kiwis!”

I jumped right, left, under a branch and behind a rock. One kiwi landed right on my head.

“Ouch! What a fruity shower!”

Kiwísek woke up.

“What's going on?”

“You've just harvested the whole crop for us!”

The sloth looked at the pile of kiwis and smiled contentedly.

“See? I always say sleep is useful.”

We filled a whole basket and set off back to Tomšos.

At the factory we made a fresh kiwi sorbet. Kiwísek tasted it, closed his eyes and smiled for a very long time.

“Mmmmm… it's so good I'm sure I'll dream about it.”

“And what shall we call our new flavour?” asked Tomšos.

Kiwísek slowly raised a paw.

“Kiwísek… of course. And now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and have a little nap.”

And that's how Lenochod Kiwísek, the Kiwi Sloth, was born: a refreshing kiwi sorbet so good you might even dream about it.

And if you ever meet a sloth snoring loudly under a kiwi tree, don't wake him!

He might just be harvesting the crop. Only in a slightly different way from everybody else!