I'm pretty ambitious when it comes to Friday Sugar High. I mean, I want to do it every Friday, and I usually do bake something worth telling you about at some point during the week, but it seems to slip through the cracks more often than I would like. I'm going to go ahead and blame the lack of organization in the loft/my workspace. Right now my desk has seven memory cards, four wedding contracts, an empty box of Children's Tylenol, teething tablets, a Certificate of Attendance for U.S. Hispanic/Latino Street Gangs Workshop (not mine), my camera, Mickey Mouse's the Best of Silly Songs, outlet plugs, and a roll of toilet paper.
I can't explain half of it, and my desk isn't even that big, but that's neither here nor there or anywhere. (We've been reading a lot of Dr. Seuss lately.) What I want to tell you about today really can't wait any longer. This, this my friend, is the ice cream of my dreams. Your dreams. Our dreams. Let's talk about it.
Do you know Jeni Britton Bauer? The one who is about to rock your world with her splendid ice creams? I'll let you read the whole scoop (ha! an ice cream pun!) on your own time and you'll really want to since you will learn all about ice cream and science and how they work together to make your tummy very happy. But that is too much, so let me sum up: I did not like homemade ice cream. Until now.
You see, here's my beef with ice cream. You stand nervously over a hot stove, whisking until you sweat, pleading with the egg yolks not to curdle into lumps of scrambled breakfast, swapping bowls and pots and buckets of ice water all around the kitchen then wait-wait-waiting until the custard chills and you can churn it. Assuming you've made it that far without having a total meltdown, you freeze it solid only to find it's chalky, crumbly, not-even-close-to-creamy, and you're seriously salty about having spent $20 on ingredients and you could've had like three gallons of storebought ice cream for that price.
No more. Jeni brings ice cream revolution.
She leaves the eggs out completely. No tempering, no whisking, no curdling. Most of her recipes call for the addition of cream cheese and corn syrup for an ice cream that is incredibly smooth and scoopable, never chalky or crumbly, and cornstarch for thickening. But the incredible texture aside, the flavor. THE FLAVOR, PEOPLE. As it turns out, egg yolks are pros at masking the true flavor of ingredients and having made three batches of Jeni's ice cream (salty caramel and candy cane, in case you were wondering), I'm never going back.
I find that most storebought ice creams have a pleasant texture but smack you over the head with sweetness instead of flavor. This ice cream is quite the opposite - it's creamy with a gentle tug against your teeth, but it's the pure chocolate flavor that takes over your tongue that sets it apart. It's rich, but not cloyingly so, and you can feel quite satisfied with two small scoops. You can taste the cream and taste the chocolate and baby, you don't need anything else.
If you don't have any ice cream machine, you can buy one for around $40, and if you eat half as much ice cream as I do, it'll be a worthwhile investment. So, get on it. I'm off to make another batch. Apparently I was half asleep when I last dipped into it and I put the container back into the fridge instead of the freezer and....yeah. Chocolate puddle.
You can order the whole book (I did!) or check out the recipe here.