Oh my! Today’s post @ Cream and Cone. Come and get it!
I just can’t seem to step AWAY from my ice cream maker. It’s churning away all the time. My freezer is CHOCK full and I’m pleased to report that as I sat here tapping away at the title of this post, a package arrived on my doorstep. It’s a waffle cone maker. Yeah. I went there. So I’ve been thinking that my ice cream should have a home of its own. I’m happy and nervous to announce my new blog: Cream and Cone. The Incuisition isn’t going anywhere. Fear not! But I hope you’ll join me at C&C for all things frozen and delicious. Today’s post: Vegan Chocolate Goji Berry Ice Cream. See you there!
Some people find that receiving mail is a nuisance but I love shredding through whatever I find in our mailbox even if it’s just unnecessary auto insurance information addressed to “resident.” I’m all over it. So the other day when a small box that actually had my name inscribed on the front flap arrived, I tore into it with the force of a starved raccoon. Guess what was inside? Tiny Mexican limes! There were only a few inside but the fragrance was deafening. That’s right. The scent was so delightfully strong that I ceased to hear anything around me. For example, our obese and hungry cat sharply announcing his arrival for an evening meal normally elicits from me a distinctly negative guttural exclamation. Not this time for I was shrouded in an angelic sound cloud of citrus scent. Cry on cat, I’m immune to you.
Now, let’s talk limes. I was told these tiny yellow fruits are like key limes which have a thinner rind and a brighter, more acidic taste than the green limes we’re all used to seeing. I felt like homage to the key lime pie should be paid so I made a coconut key lime ice cream! But there’s more. I also made some wholly wicked gingersnaps and made ice cream sandwiches!
A few years ago, my brother Will and I were both at home in Maine for the summer. He had just finished his freshman year of college, and I was on an extended layover after a winter in Barcelona, while making a plan for returning to L.A. It had been four or five years since my brother and I had lived in the same house. I was no longer angsty teen and he had grown from being what I considered a “kid” but we were quick to observe our mutual enjoyment of many things. We took to running, hiking, and cooking together. We watched the entire series of “Arrested Development” in two days, and found fun in returning to places we remembered from earlier years.
One such spot was a farm-stand of sorts on the outskirts of the town we grew up in. It’s a little market that sells fresh produce, homemade jams, bread, sauces, and salad, cheese, local brews, good wine, and live lobsters. I remember going as a child and always being asked by one of the two sisters who own it if I’d like to hold a lobster. I never did. Too scary!
It was funny to me that the sisters recognized Will and I immediately even though we hadn’t been there in ages. We weren’t really looking for anything in particular but simultaneously honed in on a freezer containing homemade ice cream. Will pulled out a carton labeled “Curry Cashew.” Our eyes got wide in a “this looks amazing” kind of way. One of the sisters saw this. “You need to get that ice cream! You need to take it home, and fry up some nectarines to eat on top of it.” We were sold.
Two years ago, my brother studied abroad in Japan. I remember quite clearly waking up one morning during that time and pawing through my fruit bowl for a breakfast banana. After finding exactly ZERO bananas, and brimming with agitation that the day was already steeped in ruin, I slumped down on the couch with my laptop. In all likelihood I was about to google “how to use sorcery to make breakfast appear,” but saw something on my home screen, something I couldn’t ignore. It was a photo on my brother’s blog of an ice cream cone with the caption: Purple Sweet Potato Ice Cream in Kamakura! Sweet potato f*cking ice cream?!
I was torn. My mind was blown that my favorite food (sweet potato) existed somewhere in the world in the form of my second favorite food (ice cream.) But I was also devastated to know that 5,400 miles remained between that ice cream and me. I shot an email off to my brother. “As If!” I assumed he knew well enough to interpret that as “I can’t believe you’re eating that insanely exotic and coveted frozen treat. I’m super jealous and never want to talk to you again… except that I need to hear more about the ice cream.”