i was an ice cream making virgin. and i’m not counting that time at girl scout camp when we were hand-cranking a machine out in the woods and the rock salt bled into the ice cream rendering it inedible and well – i’m not counting that, ok? it was a classic adolescent near miss… and i’d love to expound on that metaphor, but let’s just keep it pg-13.
so i borrowed a machine, bought the ingredients, and with all the help in the world from david lebovitz, i did it. i made his salted butter caramel ice cream or as i so fondly care to refer to it as, ‘caramel fleur de sel glace’ because it sounds so much more affected and this recipe took some real work and i want it to come across tres impressive. but people, you go on and call it whatever you want – it makes no difference because this is so damn good that the stuff should be illegal. outlawed. or at the very least eaten in singular small scoops – as the french do – unlike our embarrassingly ridiculous american supersized portions of well, everything.
for those of you wondering how i could possibly go there due to my last FRET, i would like to formally announce that tonight i will be having my one very european scoop with a touch of bittersweet chocolate sauce. and that will be all.
so far i’ve only tasted it in it’s softer state, right out of the machine. but after a night in the freezer, it’s looking like full on ice cream. earlier today i went and bought one of those little cool scooper things with the quick release squeeze handle. so i’m ready for action. i also bought david’s book and it’s wonderful – a must have if you’re going to delve into the world of icy confections. so now after all these years of buying ice cream and having no idea what it was all about, i feel relatively caught up on the subject and would not feel out of place at an ice cream social where everyone had to BYOIC. and until it’s gone, which will no doubt be too soon – or not soon enough, depending on how you’re looking at it – when anybody shows up at my door i will greet them like my grandma often did…
with spoon in hand saying, "here bubala"