Just when I think I have a handle on some recipe like, say, ice cream, I go and learn a bunch of new things that completely blows my afore-perceived expertise out of the water. This constant putting-of-me-in-my-place ought to be discouraging, but I can’t help not minding, especially when my mouf is full of ice cweam.

I discovered my latest obsession in the food section of our little newspaper. Usually the section’s two or three pages are full of recipes (that call for processed food) and info (calorie counting) that don’t interest me, but every now and then there is a nugget and I have to run for the kitchen scissors and cut it out right quick.

This week I clipped an entire article (not a recipe in sight) about a woman named Jeni Britton Bauer who purportedly makes the most fabulous ice cream ever. Her tricks? No eggs to eliminate the coating-on-the-tongue effect (not something I usually dwell on, but totally true), a little cornstarch to thicken it up, and a nub of cream cheese to give the ice cream body and heft.

At first I thought I’d have to create the recipe on my own, working under the little guidance that the paper provided, but then I started the Googling process, and after watching some videos about her shop and reading a couple articles and interviews, I finally happened upon a basic recipe.

Two nights ago, I made the ice cream. Oh! My! Stars! It is wonderful! The texture is clean and sharp and smooth, and the taste is full-on vanilla, rich and fragrant. The cream cheese doesn’t give flavor as much as it gives body—plus, they say it makes the ice cream scoopable. And because there are no eggs, the ice cream is a brilliant, classy white.

If any ice cream can surpass this one, I’ll eat my hat. (Or else the ice cream, because it would be stupid to fill up on hat if there is good ice cream around).

Next on my to-do list, incorporating other flavors into this base. The article mentioned something about a salty caramel….

Jeni’s Best Ever Vanilla Ice Cream
Adapted from Food and Wine

2 cups milk, divided
1 tablespoon, plus 1 teaspoon, cornstarch
1 1/4 cups heavy cream
2/3 cups sugar
1 ½ tablespoons light corn syrup
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped, or 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 ½ ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
1/8 teaspoon salt

Put the cornstarch in a small bowl and add 2 tablespoons of milk. Set aside.

Put the remaining milk in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, along with the cream, sugar, corn syrup, and vanilla bean. Bring the mixture to a boil and boil for 4 minutes. Off heat, stir in the cornstarch paste. Return the pan to the heat and boil for one more minute, whisking constantly. Take the pan off the heat and remove the vanilla bean.

Put the cream cheese in a medium-sized mixing bowl and gradually whisk in the hot milk mixture. Add the salt, and if using vanilla extract in place of the bean, add that now. Set the bowl in a pan of ice water to cool, or if you’re not pushed for time, put it in the fridge to chill.

Freeze the ice cream according to your maker’s directions.

Yield: about one quart.

This same time, years previous: preserving stone fruits, pasta with roasted tomatoes and summer squash (I’ve been craving this for weeks now), cooked oatmeal

*I brought these humongo lollipops back from NYC. My kids thought I was the bomb.

*This is what happens when hot weather hits before I buy our season pass to the pool.

*Punk Kid.

*A kid with a bad case of lip. (Waxiness aside, she really does. We’re working on it.)

*This is what happens when my kids beg me to buy them flip-flops and I never get around to doing it.

When I’m old and decrepit, I’ll try to recall the feeling of pudgy arms squeezed tight around my neck, the baby kiss-smacks, the oxytocin buzz from breastfeeding, but all I’ll remember is the mismatched flip-flops. Acute and agonizing bouts of guilt will then ensue.

*We turned three bushels of Lodi apples into sauce. Each year my husband attempts to improve our system (drives me nuts) and this year was no different. Instead of simply washing the apples by hand in the sink, he pressure washed them.

And yes, it was faster and less work and a very nice step-up.

*Splashes of color on a splashy-wet day.

*Towel Toga.

*Morning quiet.

*Table reading.

Some friends gave us the books “What’s Happening to Me?” and “Where did I Come From?”. I read then out loud and all but one kid (can you guess which one?) loved them. I highly recommend the books, but do read them pre-puberty, before the subject gets excruciatingly embarrassing.

*I like to add a few frozen red raspberries to a glass of white wine. It’s pretty, and the wine-soaked berries at the bottom of the glass are a tasty ending.

*July Garden (the corn is majestic!)

*My daughter, using all her appendages to scrub the floor, a la Curious George.

*Crossed wires. They clutter up my view and bug me to pieces.

*Wikki-Stix, one of The Birthday Girl’s gifts.

*Listening to stories (note the dazed, I’m-in-la-la-land look) on a brand new CD player, another birthday present.

*Mama! There’s a mushroom growing out my ear!

*A makeshift porch swing bed.

*Back porch hoe-down.

*Belly Dancing and Weed Smoking Boy in a Blue Bonnet.

*A new great way to use up all that zucchini.

Tons of raw zucchini (sprinkled with salt and then drained to get rid of excess moisture and a less raw taste), chewy whole wheat pasta, creamy-sharp Parmesan cheese, crunchy almonds, and a tangy olive oil and lemon dressing makes for a refreshing dinner on these hot summer nights.

Zucchini Pasta Salad
Adapted from Smitten Kitchen

Lots of room for improvisation here: onions (raw or caramelized), feta cheese, grain instead of pasta, cooked beans, some crumbled bacon, etc.

12 ounces whole wheat spiral pasta, cooked al dente, drained, and cooled
2 pounds zucchini, cut in half and then thinly sliced
1-2 teaspoons salt
2 ounces Parmesan cheese, grated
2/3 cup slivered almonds, toasted
½ cup olive oil
1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (from 1-2 lemons)
black pepper and salt, to taste

Put the zucchini slices in a colander and toss with the salt. Allow them to sit undisturbed for about 30 minutes. Taste—if too salty, rinse with water and pat dry. (I used 1 teaspoon of salt and mine were not too salty.)

In a small bowl, combine the olive oil, lemon juice, and a bunch of black pepper.

In a large bowl, combine the pasta, zucchini, and Parmesan. Add the dressing and toss. Taste to correct seasonings. Immediately before serving, add the almonds.

This same time, years previous: peas with prosciutto, red beet salad with caramelized onions and feta

This week my sister-in-law had a baby on her back porch, my big girl hit the double digits, and I learned to make breadsticks.

Actually, I learned to make breadsticks last week, but it was such an exciting experience that the good feeling leaked over into this week.

I love birth stories for their intensity, rawness, awesomeness, and comedy. Because, yes, some births are downright funny, and if my brother and sister-in-law will excuse me for saying so, this one was pretty hilarious. I mean, the mutt dog that my sister-in-law hasn’t ever really liked (and that’s putting it nicely) was present for more of the labor than the midwife who made it three minutes pre-delivery.

The evening of the birth, Mom and Dad came over with the soon-to-be new big sister. The rest of us were in the middle of watching Holes which we had to pause repeatedly while answering phone calls and get the latest updates. At 8:46 we stopped the movie to take bets on when the baby would be born. My baby said giddily, “In one minute!” I was right behind him with an optimistic guess of 10:30. Fifteen minutes later we stopped the video for the ringing phone yet again: the baby was here! My kids jumped and hollered and the new big sister glowed, giggled, and clapped her hands. Back Porch Baby (for that’s her new nickname, you realize) missed being decade twins with my girl by just three short hours.

The next day was filled up to the brim with cocoa puffs, free slurpies at Seven-Eleven (did you know they give them out on 7/11? I didn’t!), swimming lessons in the morning, and another visit to the pool in the afternoon, the making of a red velvet cake, apocalyptic skies and wild winds, subs and fruit and chips (hooray for simple birthday suppers!), and a pile of presents. The evening ended with a reading of all of Miss Beccaboo’s birthday interviews. (Each year on their birthday, I ask each kid the same 15 questions and then we read them aloud, along with the answers from the previous interviews. It’s a hoot to see the similarities and differences over the years and to see up close how they’ve grown and matured.)

among some of the gifts: headband and scarf from NYC,
and an altered dress-up dress

they even smiled at us!

cake-with-obscene-amounts-of-red food coloring and two kinds of frosting (this and this)

The birthday fun isn’t over yet. Five girlfriends are coming on Friday night to help her whoop it up real good for her first-ever birthday party. (It’s her first, not because she didn’t want a party before, but because I do not allow birthday parties until the age of ten. From age ten and on, special birthdays happen every several years, though I’m not sure what that’s going to mean exactly. I’m open to suggestions.)

And now for the breadsticks!

These little buggers made me inordinately happy. They are soft and tender and chewy and buttery and sublime, and I pretty much fell head over heels in love with them right away.

Those adjectives I mentioned? I know they’re cliche and way too much over-used (that was redundant), but they are truetruetrue.

There’s really not much more to say. But that might be okay, because once you make them your mouth will be full (like my little boy’s was when he stuffed an entire stick into his mouth) and you won’t want to talk anyway because you’ll be so busy chewing and moaning, your eyes rolled back in your head and everything.

One more thing before I shut up and kick you into the kitchen: these things are easy to make, dangerously easy. Prepare to be stunned by their simplicity.

Soft and Chewy Breadsticks
Adapted from Sarah of Clover Lane

This recipe is as straightforward as a recipe can get, so there is lots of room to ham it up if you so wish. You could add some whole wheat to the dough, dust the buttered pan with some semolina flour or cornmeal, or sprinkle some chopped fresh herbs, salt, or fancier cheeses over the finished breadsticks. But each time I make them, I am so wowed by their awesomeness that I can never bring myself to do something different.

The first time I made these I served them with roasted tomato and garlic sauce for dipping, but turns out my family didn’t dig that concept. They preferred to eat the bread as is—and so did I. The second time around I served the breadsticks (a double batch) with a giant salad and everyone was very, very happy. And very, very full.

2 ½ teaspoons yeast
1 cup warm water
3 tablespoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon salt
3 cups bread flour
1/4 cup oil
4 tablespoons butter, melted
½ teaspoon garlic salt
½ cup dry Parmesan cheese (not fresh)

Dissolve the yeast in the water. In a large bowl, stir together the flour, salt, and brown sugar. Add the yeast and water and oil. Stir till combined and then knead till soft and pliable. Flour the bowl and return the dough to it. Cover with a towel and let rise for an hour.

Butter a large cookie sheet/baking pan (one with sides is best). Roll out the dough so that it fills the pan. Using a pizza cutter (or a knife), cut the dough in half lengthwise once and then crosswise about 11 times—you’re aiming for about 24 sticks. Cover the dough with a towel and let rise for 30-60 minutes.

Bake the breadsticks in a 375 degree oven for about 12 minutes. Combine the melted butter and garlic salt, and pour it over the hot bread. Sprinkle liberally with Parmesan cheese.

Serve warm with a bowl of soup and/or a green salad.

Or pull these out of the oven at bedtime for a special snack. (And in that case you might want to omit the garlic salt and Parmesan and sprinkle the breadsticks with some cinnamon-sugar! Just an idea…)

This same time, years previous: vanilla buttercream frosting, roasted cherry vanilla ice cream with dark chocolate, strawberry cake