This spring weather has been wild. It’s bounced around between soaking wet, boiling hot, and extra chilly, and today it’s hovering somewhere around pleasant with a touch of gorgeous. Birds are chirping, the sun is shining, there’s a light breeze—I couldn’t ask for anything better.

Except that I could—because the forecast for the rest of the week is like looking into an incinerator. So I guess, if my wishes counted for anything, I might ask that the rest of the week be like today.

But I’ve learned that when it comes to the meteorological weather patterns, my trite little desires have no bearing whatsoever. The most I can do is learn to cope, and this week my coping methods involve strawberry daiquiris, both virgin and non.

I’m kind of tickled with my strawberry daiquiri discovery. The main reason, besides its outstanding refreshment capabilities, is that it makes an intense strawberry drink with a minimal amount of strawberries. Which means that if you are like me and are limping along with a paltry strawberry harvest, or have no berries of your own to harvest and so must break the piggy to buy some at your farmers’ market, this drink does an excellent job of stre-e-e-etching the berrylusciousness.

And if that isn’t enough, the base for the drink stores well in the refrigerator, making it the perfect weapon for an addled mother or surprised hostess. Simply glug some strawberry goodness into the blender, add ice and give it a whirl, and everyone will think you’re amazing.

And if that weren’t enough, this base can be used for more than daiquiris. Add it to lemonade, drizzle it on yogurt or ice cream, stir in some vanilla yogurt and freeze it for popsicles—the options are endless!

If you wanna be really smart, make the base in bulk and freeze the extra for a summer full of strawberry drinks. Once you’ve done that you’ll feel so good that you’ll almost start to look forward to the 100 degree days.

(I said “almost,” okay?)

Strawberry Daiquiri Base
Adapted from some place (sorry!) on the web

Local-yocals, buy your limes at the Hispanic vendor who parks outside of T & E Meats on Fridays and Saturdays—at that little joint, limes go for six a buck.

For simple syrup: combine 1 1/4 cups sugar in a small saucepan and add 1 cup of water. Bring the mixture to a simmer and stir until all the sugar has dissolved. Store the syrup in a pint jar in the fridge. It will keep for weeks.

1 cup whole strawberries, washed and capped
½ cup simple syrup (see head note)
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons lime juice

Combine the first three ingredients in a blender and whiz thoroughly. Press the mixture through a fine-meshed sieve. (About 1 teaspoon of seeds will get left behind—they’re bitter and deserve to be tossed.) Add the lime to the strawberry syrup and stir to combine. Refrigerate (or freeze) the base.

For Strawberry Daiquiris:
Put the strawberry syrup into the blender along with 3 cups of ice and ½ cup of rum. Blend until smooth. Pour into glasses and garnish with mint sprigs. Serves 3 or 4.

For Virgin Daiquiris:
Put the strawberry syrup into the blender along with 2 cups of ice and blend until smooth. Garnish with mint sprigs. Serves 2 or 3.

I know I just posted a chocolate ice cream recipe less than two months ago, but oh my, this one must be written about.

It is The King of all chocolate ice creams. It is more svelte, more creamy, more chocolate-y, more luscious, more divine than any other chocolate ice cream PERIOD. It is THE BEST CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM EVER.

Chocolate ice cream has never been this sexy.

It’s like eating a soft chocolate bar that’s cold, or so says my husband. And he’s right. This is ice cream that you can almost chew. It has substance and heft, yet it’s creamy soft.

And it’s so rich that after eating one little scoop I feel like my eyeballs are spinning in their eye sockets like some overly-excited-yet-simultaneously-knocked-out cartoon character.

The recipe comes via the latest Bon Appetit magazine, and I should warn you, it has some odd steps. First, it calls for a homemade caramel to be added to the base. And second, the base must sit in the fridge for two days before churning, after which it’s supposed to sit in the freezer for three more days before eating.

A five—FIVE!—day wait? What in the world?

Nowhere in the magazine did it explain the reasoning behind such madness, so I emailed Bon Appetit to get the whole scoop. You tell your readers that it’s important to start the ice cream five days before serving but no explanation is given, I wrote. Could you please explain the necessity of the (excruciating) wait?

I have yet to hear back from them but surely they will answer my question somewhere, somehow, sometime? I have a hard time believing that I’m the only reader who is flummoxed.

Flummoxation aside, the ice cream is top-of-the-line. Whether or not it’s because of the caramel syrup add-in and long wait time, I don’t know. But it’s good, so I’m not about to change things up.

The Best Chocolate Ice Cream Ever
Adapted from the June 2011 issue of Bon Appetit magazine

A word about how this recipe is different from the other chocolate ice cream. The other base is like a thin pudding; this base is like a thick pudding. In fact, the base was so thick I was afraid it would burn up my ice cream maker—I turned the machine off when the ice cream was about five minutes shy of done.

The original recipe calls for 70-75 percent chocolate. I used 53 percent and the ice cream was almost black. I can only imagine the profound intensity that 7 ounces of 75 percent would deliver.

I used 7 egg yolks instead of 6. It was an accident (the recipe calls for 7 tablespoons of sugar and 7 ounces of chocolate, so I just assumed it was 7 yolks). It turned out delicious which leads me to believe there isn’t anything magical about the exact number of yolks. I could be wrong, of course. Tell me if I am.

7 ounces chocolate (53-75 percent, according to your tastes)
2 cups plus 2 tablespoons milk
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
6 large egg yolks
13 tablespoons sugar, divided
1/4 cup heavy whipping cream

Melt the chocolate in the top of a double boiler. Set aside to cool.

Whisk together the milk and cocoa powder in a sauce pan and bring it to a boil. Remove the pan from the heat and set aside.

Using an electric mixer, beat the egg yolks with 7 tablespoons of sugar for about 2 minutes, or until thick and satiny. Gradually add the hot cocoa-milk mixture to the yolks, whisking steadily. Return the mixture to the saucepan and add the melted chocolate. Stir over low heat till slightly thickened, or the mixture reaches a temperature of 175 degrees. Pour the mixture into a bowl to cool.

Put the remaining 6 tablespoons of sugar and 2 tablespoons of water in small saucepan and cook on medium high heat, swirling occasionally, until the mixture has turned a dark amber. Off heat, gradually whisk in the whipping cream (it will bubble and spit madly). When the caramel is smooth, add it to the chocolate mixture. Strain the ice cream base and put it into the fridge to chill for 2 days.

Churn the ice cream and freeze for 3 days before eating. (Or not.)

I’m feeling a little frisky today so I took a picture of me in my new nightie for you to see.

(Please pay no mind to the piles of clothes and sheets and pillows and books—I was in the middle of dunging out when I paused to let you in.)

Isn’t it lovely? It’s wispy and playful, just like the cottony clouds that have been tumbling across the fabulously blue skies.

I got it at a thrift store for four bucks thinking I’d wear it over a flowy summer skirt, or jeans, perhaps. Only it was so flimsy that it bunched up whenever it touched any other fabric, so a nightie it is.

I’d been wanting a large throw-on tee, or some such thing, to, you know, throw on after my evening shower. A shirt that would be lightweight and yet modest enough to wear around the rest of the family. A shirt that passing drivers could catch a glimpse of through our windows and not crash.

This little dress more than fits the bill. All day long I look forward to the evening when I’ll get to wear it.

This same time, years previous: sour cream ice cream, radishes for breakfast, hypothesizing (my theories on learning to read)