• fruit crisp ice cream

    Now that we’re down to one cow, I have a problem: I don’t get enough cream to make butter and I have too much cream to use up in everyday drinking. My solution? Ice cream!

    (I’ve always been a good problem solver.)

    Now listen up. If you want to elevate your ice cream, focus on the add-ins. I don’t just mean cocoa powder for chocolate, or espresso for coffee, but the actual chunks, or thick swirls, of deliciousness that you create for the sole purpose of making ice cream even more wonderful than it already is. 

    I’m only just beginning to understand this. Currently, I’m obsessed with fruit crisp ice cream.

    I made a batch of crisp crumbles for this very purpose: a pan of buttery, gently-spiced crisp crumbs that I baked, stirred to break up the pieces, and then transferred to a half gallon jar in the freezer. Layered with the vanilla ice cream and fruit, these crisp crumbles soften a bit, but not all the way. It’s perfect, I think — a little soft with a distinct crunch. 

    some of these chunks are a little too big

    My mother says she maybe prefers her ice cream with granola sprinkled on top immediately before eating. Which is good, yes, sure, of course. But granola on ice cream is two things eaten together. This is three separate parts joined to make one: a fruit crisp ice cream. It’s entirely different, I think.

    And with this version, there’s the added fun of digging for the good bits. I always know I’ve landed on a good ice cream when I find myself standing at the island, double — triple, quadruple, doz-iple — dipping despite my family’s cries of outrage. 

    Getting the fruit right for this ice cream was a challenge, and it’s still in process, to be honest. See, the main problem with fruit in ice cream is that the fruit gets icy. I’ll be savoring the luscious creamy ice cream and then — bam — my mouth gets hit with a chunk of hard, fruity ice. No thank you.

    Cooking the fruit seems to help (like I did in the blueberry swirl version), but when I made a black raspberry version (cooking the berries with sugar and a little cornstarch), the berries were still a bit icy.

    Then my mother suggested I add gelatin. She pointed out that we used to make fruit popsicles when I was a kid, and the fruit was always icy, but if we made jello pops, then it wasn’t. So I made the ice cream again, this time with a red raspberry sauce, to which I added a teaspoon of gelatin — and it wasn’t icy! (Though maybe red raspberries just aren’t as icy as the black ones, or I cooked them harder than the black ones? Not sure. More testing is needed…)

    Anyway. For now I’m going with it. Cook (or roast) the fruit with sugar, add a bit of gelatin, and use that as your fruit add-in. 

    Fruit Crisp Ice Cream
    Adapted from Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams At Home, by Jeni Britton Bauer.

    To watch me make the vanilla ice cream base, go here.

    1 recipe of Jeni’s vanilla ice cream (get the eyeball-it version here)
    2-3 cups of cooked fruit (below)
    1-2 (or more!) cups crisp crunchies (below)

    Layer the ice cream with the fruit and crunchies. For added eye and flavor appeal, I like to stir some of the fruit into the ice cream and then marble the flavored ice cream with the plain vanilla and fruit sauce. Press a piece of wax paper on top and freeze the ice cream for 4-6 hours before eating.

    for the fruit (blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, cherry, rhubarb, peaches, etc, or a combo)
    2-3 cups of fresh or frozen fruit 
    ½ -1 cup sugar (don’t skimp on the sugar)
    1 teaspoon cornstarch, if the fruit is extra saucy
    1 teaspoon plain gelatin

    Cook the fruit and sugar (and optional cornstarch) over medium high heat. Let it bubble a bit. If it’s extra juicy, let it cook down and thicken a little. Remove from heat and sprinkle the gelatin over top. Let it rehydrate for a couple minutes and then stir in. Chill the fruit in the fridge. 

    for the crisp crunchies
    1½ cups flour
    ¾ cup brown sugar
    ⅛ teaspoon cinnamon
    ½ teaspoon salt
    2 sticks butter
    1½ cups rolled oats

    Using your hands, mix everything together until sandy crumbs form. (If using a food processor, pulse everything together but the rolled oats. When combined, pour the mixture into a bowl and add the oats. Squeeze the mixture a few times to combine.) 

    Spread the crumbs on a parchment-lined baking sheet and bake at 350 degrees for 20-35 minutes, stirring once or twice to break up the chunks (the biggest chunks should be no larger than a kidney bean), and to make sure they brown evenly. 

    Cool to room temperature before transferring to a lidded container and freezing. This makes enough crisp crunchies for 3-4 batches of ice cream.

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (9.13.21), the brothers buzz, what they talked about, the quotidian (9.14.15), playing catch-up, chile cobanero, cinnamon sugar breadsticks.

  • the quotidian (9.12.22)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    Yay Pizza.

    Pig food: not all my cheeses are a hit.

    Breakfast: sourdough everything bagel, cream cheese, olives.

    Lunch: gas station store bread, tomatoes, mayo, S&P.

    Fact: white ceramic plates were created for the sole purpose of showing off berry jewels.

    And toast was invented so we’d have a place upon which to spread red raspberry jam,
    (which is now my husband’s favorite jam, he says).

    It took me 15 years, but I’m finally conquoring my fears.

    [pounds chest] Watch out, people.

    My little raspberry patch friend.
    For weeks, Mildred has not moved from her spot.

    At the outdoor theater: wine for one, cheese for 2 (plus), olives for the world.

    Labor day, with friends.

    Winter is coming.

    This same time, years previous: the cheesemaking saga continues, Coco, lemony mashed potato salad, the quotidian (9.12.16), what writing a book is like, the good things that happen, making my children jump, whooooooosh.

  • seven fun things

    I’ve been craving sourdough bagels so I made some.

    I changed the recipe a little — whey instead of dried milk powder, half the wheat gluten, molasses instead of barley malt syrup. To one batch I added cinnamon and raisins; the other batch I made into plain and everything. I’d forgotten how simple the recipe is, which was a nice surprise. Bonus: they made the whole family very happy.

    So on the off-chance you’re looking for a weekend baking project, there you go.

    ***

    I’ve never worked in a restaurant kitchen, but I’ve heard, according to people who have, that this show is about as real as it gets. 

    And then I watched it and was like, Seriously? Kitchens are like that? So I asked one of my fellow bakers who’s had a bunch of kitchen jobs and she was like, Oh, it’s real all right. I used to cry almost every day after work. What the heck?! (Thank goodness Magpie — diner and kitchen — is definitely not that sort of restaurant.) Anyway, my husband and I tore through the show and now he says “behind” when he crosses behind me in the kitchen. 

    ***

    Not a fun thing (but it could be . . . because readers might leave lots of good comments and then you’d get ideas, too): I need a good book.

    So I can lose myself like this kid does.

    Help me out?

    ***

    I first saw these mesh food covers on Gavin’s YouTube channel. I thought they’d be too clunky, or else they’d float away in the slightest breeze, but then the flies started getting to me and I decided to give them a try. 

    Turns out, they’re pretty darn wonderful! I use them to cover my cheeses while they’re air drying, but I also plop them down on anything else that needs protection: pies, bread, a plate of food set aside for a working child. My pack came with six — I keep two accessible in the kitchen (they cumple-fold like umbrellas) and store the remaining ones as backup for when these eventually break, or to share with friends. Because you never know when someone might need a food umbrella.

    ***

    If you haven’t yet seen it, check out this 8-minute NYTimes opinion video piece about journalist and author John Hendrickson and his disability: stuttering. 

    Take the time to watch it.

    ***

    One of my friends shared this story (Katie the Prefect by Joe Posnanski) on his Facebook page, saying, “I have used this specific piece of writing for many years in my nonfiction unit in ninth grade English. It is very much worth the time!” I don’t usually read recommended-on-Facebook articles, but I’d just made myself a cup of coffee so I decided to give it a go. Maybe it’d be good?

    And it was good. Very, very good.

    ***

    I watched this little clip about making croissants the French way, curious to see how it differed from our method at Magpie.

    Turns out, our method is actually quite similar, though we brush on the egg wash, not spray it, and we have to pound out our butter blocks by hand. (Oh, to have access to ready-made, flat rectangles of butter!)

    ***

    Happy weekend, friends!

    P.S. This weekend, my husband and I are hitting the theater hard. First up, opening night for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime in Winchester. I loved the book (I’ve never seen the show), and my co-star from Outside Mullingar is playing the father, hip-hip! And then the next night, we’re going to the opening production of Give Us Good at Silk Moth Stage. Some of our friends are meeting us there, and I’m taking cheese and wine for the pre-show live music/picnic time.

    Can’t wait!

    This same time, years previous: some big news, has anyone made grape liqueur?, a hernia, hip-hip!, home again, the proper procedure for toweling off after a shower, outside eating, calf wrangling, regretful wishing.