Let me start by saying thank you so much to all of you who pre-ordered my new book, The Year of Cozy. Your support truly means the world to me.
Have you ever had someone be very skeptical about something you’re making. These people can also be referred to as H8TERZ. They drink haterade as they sit there and h8te.
When I was discussing this recipe with my boyfriend, as I often do, he was h8ting HARD. He didn’t like the peach. He didn’t like the bourbon. “It’s too common of a combination.” Blah blah I don’t care. It’s a delicious combination that’s why you see it a lot and I’ve never seen it on ribs so let me live!
I’m so excited to share with you a bunch of fun ice cream recipes. My hope is that you’re super sweaty and so over summer. Think of this like a reboot because we still have a month or so to go and I don’t want to hear anything about fall. I’m not ready, we still have ice cream to make/eat!
This has been the summer of beer for me. I’ve had a good amount of it–with most of it not being suitable for a float of any kind, except lambics, which are forever my favorites. (Remember last year when I made popsicles with cherry lambic?).
Peach and bourbon or whiskey is pretty much a no-brainer combination and I figured a peach-flavored beer and ice cream spiked with whiskey would be a sure-fire win.
If you’re unfamiliar with lambics, here’s a quick download: Fruit Lambics (because they’re not all made with fruit) are Belgium beers fermented with wild yeasts and bacteria. Often times, during their secondary fermentation time, fruit is added, i.e., peaches, strawberris, cherries, etc. The beer is tart and takes on the flavor of the fruit it’s fermented with. Think one part shrub and one part beer. It’s effervescent and very, VERY summer-y.
This ice cream is a dream. It’s creamy and balanced, slightly salty and the whiskey prohibits it from.
A few thoughts on ice cream:
1. I use this Cuisinart ice cream-maker. There are better ones out there, but this one is pretty economical, especially if you’re not making ice cream everyday.
2. I insist everyone get a digital-read thermometer. It makes ice cream-making SO much easier. No guessing as to when the custard is done!
3. I use these deli cups to store ice cream because they’re cheap and easy.
4. There’s a cute wooden handled ice cream scooper pictured, but I really love these sturdy ones.
Look at those little speckles of vanilla bean. INSERT EMOJI HEART EYES!
YAY FOR ICE CREAM!
Peach Lambic Float with Whiskey Ice Cream
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cook Time: 5 minutes
Total Time: 20 minutes
Yield: 1 1/2 pint of ice cream
Serving Size: 4
1/4 vanilla bean
1/4 cup white granulated sugar
1 cup whole milk
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1/4 tsp salt
4 large egg yolks
1 cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons whiskey or bourbon
Bottle of peach lambic
To a large bowl, prepare an ice bath by adding a heaping handful of ice cubes to a large bowl and topping it off with a few splashes of water. Set a slightly smaller bowl inside the larger bowl and place a sieve or strainer inside. Set the whole ice bath contraption aside.
Add the vanilla sugar, whole milk and brown sugar to a medium saucepan. Turn the heat to medium and stir until the sugar has dissolved and the milk is hot to the touch. Whisking the entire time, add about 1/4 cup of warm milk to the beaten egg yolks. Return the egg yolk and milk mixture back to the medium saucepan and place over medium low heat. Cook the mixture, stirring constantly, until the thermometer reads 170 to 175 degrees F and the custard appears thick and coats the back of a spoon.
Pour the custard through the sieve into the bowl. Stir in the heavy cream until completely incorporated. Next, add the whiskey, stirring until completely combined. Keep mixing until the mixture is room temperature. Place plastic wrap on the surface of the custard, which will prevent the surface from creating a skin, and transfer to the fridge for 4 to 5 hours, until very cold.
When the custard is cold, churn the mixture into the bowl of your ice cream maker, according to the maker's instructions.
Transfer the ice cream to a quart container and freeze until the ice cream is firm, about 4 to 8 hours.
I’m a bit on a grilling kick. I don’t own an outside grill so instead I use my big griddle that has a side that is like a grill pan. It’s almost like reversible sheets. Or reversible shirts, which were popular for a very short while in the 90s. I think they should come back because seriously, how useful! I also had a shirt that would change different colors if you breathed on it. I’m pretty sure it was supposed to work like mood ring but it failed completely.
Anyway, grilling…fruit. The two surprisingly go hand and hand, AND grilling cheese is an even better idea. The requirement is that the correct cheese be used. A lot of cheese can easily be coated in breading and fried but not many cheeses can be grilled. If you’ve never cooked with haloumi, I can assure you that it’s really really good and super easy to grill. It won’t get all melty and crazy, it’s really hard to mess up AND it’s delicious and salty. I love to pair it with something sweet and something smokey.
Last night my clutch was stolen—and to makes things worse, it was my favorite Claire Vivier—straight out of my very unlocked car. It was a big ol’ gigantic bonehead move on my part. I blame my dad. He never locked the front door because he was raised in The South in the 70s where no one locked their doors and people actually borrowed sugar from their neighbors. I tend to shrug off the idea that people will steal from me because, well, I wouldn’t steal from me!
Luckily no real damage was done. I actually didn’t even realize it was stolen until I went to grab my wallet when I went to pick-up my takeout Chinese food at Pine & Crane. The restaurant took pity on my moneyless-self and gave me my dinner on the house. I thought that was so nice; it made me believe in good people all over again. I got all these fuzzy feelings in my tummy at how nice they were about it.
In moments like these, I need comfort. And in my world that comfort comes in form of breakfast. This is what I like to think of as a summer porridge. Something you’d eat during the warmer months.
This recipe comes from the book, The Homemade Flour Cookbook, by Erin over at Naturally Ella. In this book, Erin explores the variety of ways you can grind your own flours at home. And, it includes a ton of recipes that focuses on those flours, seeds and even beans. I think it’s a really interesting book. I thumbed through most of the recipes and fell in love with this flax porridge with peaches. I love a good porridge but had yet to try one with flax in it.
One of the worst things in the world is comparing ourselves to others. And yet, I’m very prone to doing this myself, from time to time. And like every time before, it leaves me feeling vulnerable, untalented and completely imperfect. I think the imperfect part is ok; I mean, we’re all imperfect, right? And I do know that in the grand scheme of life, and my happiness, none of it matters. None of it. But why do I still do it? Why do you do it? It’s hard not to. It just is. But I think we should stop. There’s nothing productive or healthy about it.
I usually have some sort of comment about Catfish or Nev’s tramp stamp (we’ll talk about how Nev’s tramp stamp has its own Twitter later) but today this is on my mind; perfectionism, not letting it completely consume you, make you feel awful. I think there’s room for everyone in this world. I think everyone has their own unique voice, experience and point of view that makes them different and special, as lame and cheesy as that sounds.
Yesterday when I was feeling down and out, I listened to David Foster Wallace’s famous commencement speech, This Is Water. It might be one of my favorite things to listen to EVER when I’m feeling terrible. It puts things into perspective. And this Blank on Blank on perfectionism is, well, perfection.
This galette is totally imperfect (the way galettes should be, I think). It combines late summer fruit and fall spices like ginger, cinnamon and ground coffee. I loved it. The crust is special, too. There’s a bit of apple cider vinegar in the crust which adds the perfect amount of tenderness. Baking this made me so excited for pie season. A Pie Week is coming at you this season. I’m already plotting.
For this whole recipe situation, hop over to PBS Food.
UGH. I hate long recipe titles but I really wanted to convey what the heck was in this thing. It’s important. This salad is an honest to Yeezus (I had no idea this was Kayne’s nickname until like two days ago so now I use it all the time) example of what I’ve been eating for the past few weeks. I’m a big fan of dinner for one, mainly because I kind of sometimes like it when no one talks to me for a few hours and I can be alone with my thoughts/latest episode of Real Housewives.
I never like my “dinner for ones” to be too labor-intensive. I can’t bother to make a mess. This salad is sooo quick and so amazing. Figs are officially in season, yet I can’t find any that really taste the way they should. I bought a big box of them last week and quickly realized that nature needed a bit of a hand, a little tap on the bottom. Nothing that a little brown sugar and a griddle can’t fix! And voila they tasted like grade-A, delicious, sweet figs.
I mixed it with bright, sweet yellow peaches, crushed pistachios and arugula. It was incredible. And since I couldn’t’ get enough of the peppery flavor that the arugula gave me, I paired it with a black pepper vinaigrette and topped it with slivers of prosciutto and ricotta salata.
My love for ice cream began very early; some doctors would probably argue that it was too early. (See last picture in this Father’s Day post for proof.) I believe I first tried ice cream when I was still on the bottle, probably around 3 months old. My dad gave me a taste because, well, I didn’t need any teeth – no teeth required! – to enjoy his favorite evening, indulgence. And to this day, my dad eats a bowl of ice cream every. single. night. One of the best birthday presents I ever gave him was an ice cream maker. He became obsessed, mastering a ton of ice cream recipes, but mainly perfecting his vanilla bean recipe. Simple things are tough!
This ice cream right here is tart, sweet with bright coral swirls. Hello! I realize I’m repeating myself with this swirl business. Everything lately is getting a swirl. Also, everything that’s sweet is also salty. I can’t help it! I’m a woman obsessed.
This post is brought to you in collaboration with Real California Milk. I had no idea until they sent me a fun fact sheet, but the state of California produces more ice cream than any other state in the United States, which basically means California is the best.
Brown butter. Let’s talk about it. Hourie threw my world for a lil’ loop a few weeks ago when she was all like, “Oh and I burn my brown butter. Like, burn.” Up until that point, I always did it the way you were “supposed to”: cooked it until it reached that perfectly autumn, nutty brown, removed it from the heat and then stirred it vigorously until it cooled so it wouldn’t burn. She said that it never tastes like brown butter if you do that, there’s not enough depth. Burning it is the only way.
I was skeptical–I figured surely we’re going to taste the burnt flavor (not that that can’t be enjoyable either). But when we sat there eating the crisp, there wasn’t a trace of burnt flavor, just rich, delicious buttery depth in the crumble. I’m sold. You should try this. When I made this, I took the butter in this way too far, until it was a very, very dark brown, almost black and it was glorious.
I have this thought at least one time a day. At least once. It’s usually prompted by eyeing lazy dogs sitting outside of coffee shops, as I pass them with a long to-do list and the general stresses of adulthood. And they’re there…just panting, drinking water, begging for food.
The easy life…or is it?!
Sure, they have no real responsibility and it’s our job to take care of them. And yes, some guide the blind, and some work with the police to catch murderers and drug smugglers and scary burglars. But most of them don’t do anything. Their job is to do nothing. Their days consist of staring out the window, catching birds (despite them being terrible at it), digging holes so they can escape and go on adventures, sleeping, more sleeping, more sleeping. All that sounds so lovely, truly.
BUT, the biggest bummer about being a dog: eating the same thing every. day.
Imagine one kind of food, every day for the rest of your life. It’s a depressing thought. This is why if I had a dog I’d feed him/her a small taste of delicious things I love.