Now, a word about the chocolate ice cream base I mentioned a couple days back. I realize I already have multiple recipes for chocolate ice cream in the recipe index, but this one is my new favorite because of two things: deliciousness (of course) and convenience.

Because see, the problem with chocolate ice cream (or any ice cream besides vanilla) is that you have to plan to make it. And when I’m making ice cream, I’m usually doing it fast — just processing a bunch of cream to churn into ice cream later. When I make the base, I generally have no idea when we’ll eat it, or with what. I just need the dairy out of my fridge and in the freezer STAT, and since my vanilla base recipe is locked and loaded, that’s what I do. 

But then one day a few weeks back when I had a half gallon of vanilla base squatting in the fridge and a sudden hankering for chocolate, I wondered if I might be able to change course this late in the game? 

A quick chat with the internet gods (or demons, depending on your perspective) revealed that there was indeed an easy-peasy way to transform vanilla ice cream base into chocolate, long after it’d been made and at my lazy-ass leisure.

Simply reheat some of the base, and then “bloom” cocoa powder in it for flavor depth (chocolate #1), and whisk in some chopped chocolate (chocolate #2) for that silky mouthfeel.

The results are far better than any properly planned and preordained chocolate ice cream. It’s a doozy of a keeper.

Double Chocolate Ice Cream

Adjust proportions to suit your taste, from a lighter chocolate all the way up to a super intense, dark chocolate. The proportions below lean more milk chocolate-y.

Note: This method works best with a non-egg vanilla ice cream base.

To convert a half gallon of vanilla base:
about 2 cups vanilla ice cream base
½ cup cocoa powder (Dutch-processed is best)
4 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, or milk chocolate, chopped

Bring the ice cream base to a simmer. Whisk in the cocoa powder. It will be lumpy and grainy, but never you worry. All will be well. 

Bring the base to a boil to bloom the cocoa, whisking steadily. After a minute or so, the mixture should be creamy and luscious. 

Turn off the heat, and add the chopped chocolate. Whisk until it’s thoroughly dissolved. (If desired, lightly whiz the mixture with an immersion blender.) 

Add the chocolate base concentrate back into the rest of the vanilla base and stir to combine. Chill completely. Churn.

When transferring the ice cream to a container, layer in brownie crumbles, mashed and torn bits of sea salt chocolate caramels, chopped peanut butter cups, crushed Oreos, and swirls of peanut butter, caramel, fudge sauce, marshmallow cream, etc. 

This same time, years previous: civil rights learning tour: Alabama, eat more spinach!, milk, anzac biscuits, with my children, stages of acting, the quotidian (5.4.15), the quotidian (5.5.14), not what we’re used to, the definition of insanity.

I have this “thing” where the more I run out of groceries, the more resistant I become to going shopping. 

With the low-hanging fruit gone — the chips and cereal, celery and potatoes, frozen leftovers, snacky chocolate — cooking becomes a challenge. Now’s the time to dig into my reserves: the meats that take some planning, the dry goods that gather dust in the pastry, the bits and pieces rattling around the fridge. 

Sparse shelves mean it’s time to downshift into low gear and actually use what I have, to create something out of all the little bits, to practice the art of cooking from scratch. Yay! 

(Am I the only one who gets excited when the fridge gets empty? Is anyone else like this?) 

So last night, with our supplies dwindling dangerously and the moans of the masses getting ever louder, I set one goal for my Saturday: make so much food that it would totally obliterate any need to go grocery shopping. 

Before going to bed, I took inventory and made plans. I scribbled a list of all the things I could make. I ran down cellar and pulled a bunch of meat, fruit, and bread from the freezer to thaw. 

I was ready. 

This morning, I woke up a little after six. I vaulted out of bed and for the next seven hours, I cooked and baked, whipped and beat, chopped and sauteed and simmered and seared. 

(The guys washed the dishes.)

Here’s what I made:

• parbaked 5 pie crusts (that had been ready-to-bake in the freezer)
• sauteed a large bag of kale for later in the week
• made pie crumb topping (half went into the freezer for later)
• baked 1 grape pie with crumb topping
• baked 1 sour cherry-red raspberry-rhubarb pie with oat crumble topping (that I found in the freezer)
• oven-baked 3 pounds of sliced bacon
• made a double batch of chocolate ice cream base
• cooked a pound of white beans in the instapot
• turned the white beans into baked beans (leftover tomato juice, harissa paste, honey, etc)
• cooked a bunch of potatoes in the instapot and then turned them into a potato salad
• pressure-cooked beef cheeks in a red wine onion sauce (for later in the week)
• prepped a beef heart for grilling tomorrow (tacos!)
• made a cilantro chimichurri sauce to go with the tacos (after I went to a friend’s house to pick the cilantro)
• prepped a big pan of baked French toast to use up an experimental loaf of cinnamon swirl bread from the freezer and a bunch of random packs of cream cheese
• turned 3 quarts of yogurt into smoothies for the week
• made mascarpone whip (using up two test batches of mascarpone) for a fruit tiramisu I’ll assemble later
• cleaned, cut, and packaged an Asiago

We don’t need to go shopping any more.

This same time, years previous: cake candles, little devils stairs, civil rights learning tour: Georgia, the quotidian (5.2.22), a few good things, an under-the-stairs office nook, freezer coffee cake, PUERTO RICO, besties, the quotidian (5.2.16), carrot cake with cream cheese frosting, depression chocolate mayonnaise cake, baked-in-a-pot artisan bread.

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

Kimchi workshop.

Leafy lunch.

Fruity tiramisu.

More lunch leaves.

Ordinary fare.

Cream and curds.

I’m getting a little snobby about my ice cream.

Not right.

Doughnuts.

Changing lessons.

Feeding the grumpkin.

Heavy softness.

This same time, years previous: multigrain sourdough, five fun things, a birth party, the quotidian (4.27.20), both ends, that fuzzy space, full disclosure, thank you for holding us, the quotidian (4.27.15), mango banana helados, beware the bedsheets, drama trauma.