Ice Cream. This frozen treat is an obsession for some--not only a favorite dessert but a snack. Marco Polo, it is said, observed the Chinese enjoying "ice cream" as early as the 1300s, but there are records dating back to the T'ang Period (618-907) of an ice milk product at court.
"Ices" didn't reach Europe--via the Moors-- until the early 1600s, and this was simply sorbet. The idea of egg custard as an ice cream base didn't take off until the 18th century. And then it went, divisively, into gelato, kulfi, sherbet, granita, and spooms, depending on egg, cream, milk, and cultural tastes.
Ice cream: a puzzlement. You must cook it in order to freeze it. A simple creme anglaise with your favorite fruit (cooked!) becomes an airy, glacial surprise: the cream coaxes out the sugary fruit, the acidity tamed by eggs and milk.
My ice cream maker was one of the first major appliances that I bought. I saved and saved, returning to stare longingly at the machine in the Williams & Sonoma window. I felt the urge to go beyond the grocery store offerings. I had never heard of Cold Stone. Ben and Jerry were just taking off. I had had a Haagen Daas Pear Sorbet with a fudge ripple that I couldn't find in the States. I couldn't get it out of my head, so I made it. ( I still do!)
I've learned a lot about ice cream making since I churned my first strawberry. I strongly believe that cream cheese doesn't belong anywhere near my machine. I know that there's a balance between milk and heavy cream for a reason. I know that inverted sugar --honey, or glucose--will keep that apple cider sorbet from getting hard and grainy, and that granitas usually benefit from a little alcohol. I believe that coconut ice cream kicks butt, but coconut sorbet lacks...and that coconut anything surely is better when coupled with pineapple, mango, banana, papaya...
I've done some experimenting, because I, like Ben, can't help myself. There are certain flavors that stand alone. Others need help. White chocolate ice cream, yes, is good, but becomes Queen with strawberries, blueberries, cherries, raspberries! Caramel makes anything better. Fudge rippling through your ice cream does too. Chocolate ice cream is awesome, but really hard to perfect. A little chili powder or sea salt changes everything. Milk chocolate ice cream with malt...oh my! Chocolate sorbet is that fudgesicle we used to enjoy as kids, but if you use premium dark dark dark chocolate, it is over the top! Rocky Road is Classic. Creme fraiche ice cream pairs magically with a scoop of strawberry. A deep, ripe tomato sorbet is the perfect foil for pan-seared tuna. I've had the occassion, in the mazes of Old Nice, to try lavender ice cream: unforgettable. Seriously, that pastel violet hue, the subtle perfume. I've smeared my face black enjoying licorice ice cream. (Thank you, Baskin Robbins!) I've celebrated St. Patrick's Day with my own Guiness ice cream. Nutty, chocolatey, yum! I've bravely spooned Dijon ice cream--yes! it works!--and the list goes on. I am one of those who never wants the same flavor twice.
This "winter on a spoon" makes my children literally jump for joy. It brings a smile to my French man's face. He reverts to childhood and I get to witness him as a little boy, licking his bowl. Ice cream is a celebration without reason: the ultimate "just because." We make ice cream soup, we whine between gulps about our "ice cream headache," we linger at the table: maybe just one more scoop....
I Scream! You Scream! We all Scream for Ice Cream!
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