Ice Cream Reading List, Entry #1: A Global History of Ice Cream

Or, actually, Ice Cream: A Global History. This book isn't the only history of ice cream in the field, but one of the few that seems vaguely academically diligent (i.e., uses citations).  

I read about 50 pages on Sunday and was heartily entertained and fairly impressed. Weiss's writing style is lively and clear. If only she had delved deeper into some of the anecdotes surrounding the origins of ice cream and ice cream confections. Probably she was restricted by the series format.

Anyway, the first of many manuals I need to consult for this project. Recommendations, welcome!

TBT: Ice Cream Scene in "Home Alone"

When Home Alone was released in 1990, I was nine years old. It was the perfect age to watch a feature-length film chronicling an upper-class kid's misadventures alone in his own house because I had only recently been given this privilege. So, obviously, the movie gave me lots of ideas as how to fill my time when David and Elaine and Margaret and Jackie were all out (which rarely happened, btw). Note: what the film did not provide me was any sense of how GODDAMN LUCKY Kevin was to live in a neighborhood in which the most threatening thing is two non-violent, bumble-headed burglars and a moderately grumpy old man. I don't think America really wants to see a movie depicting what happens to abandoned children in less peaceful domestic environs.

The scene in which Kevin is pigging out on junk food and watching a gangster movie (see again any violence he experiences is  not real/fictionalized--okay, okay, i'll stop with my class critique) is among the film's most memorable.  And the highlight, IMHO, is the ginormous bowl of ice cream. Seriously, there must be about twenty individual scoops in that concoction representing half a dozen flavors, not to  mention toppings. 

Amazing. I would recreate this ice cream feat next time I'm home alone except I know my cats would judge me.

Heart of Dark Chocolateness

As a child, I was categorically opposed to dark chocolate and would only consume the milk variety. Thank Hershey for this insane predilection because their "Special Dark" was only type of dark chocolate I had tried and therefore I assumed all variants were just as waxy. (Note: In the past decade, Hershey has revamped its Special Dark recipe and now it is quite palatable.)

For this reason, I was late to discover that dark chocolate hot fudge (not to be confused with chocolate syrup) is absolutely wonderful on sundaes. The darker, the bitterer, the better. 

Yesterday, I stumbled upon Smucker's Dark Chocolate Topping, which was more than decent and less than transcendent in flavor. Appropriate, I guess, for a Monday.

The best dark chocolate fudge I ever tasted was on a sundae from Picco in Boston. They used Scharffen-Berger to make their sauce and God-I-wish-I-knew what else.

Ice Recipe in Houstonia + Fat Cat Creamery

The June issue of Houstonia magazine had a lovely recipe for ice cream designed by Sarah Johnston of Fat Cat Creamery. 

With no disrespect to Johnston's ice cream-making prowess, I was still fairly disappointed with Fat Cat Creamery when it opened. I had publicly bemoaned the lack of an old-school ice cream parlor and following my rant was promptly contacted by Fat Cat's PR person who sent me a series of cryptic messages punctuated by feline jokes (e.g., "the ice cream will make you ME-OW") that basically informed me that a brick and mortar parlor would be opening soon in the Heights.

So, of course, I got unbelievably excited at the prospect of some balls-to-walls cloying sundae creations only to be disappointed. Again, Fat Cat's ice cream is terrific, but their flavors and sundaes far too modest and/or artisanal.  A scoop of strawberry buttermilk ice cream drizzled with salted caramel is not the stuff of the type of obnoxious concoctions I desire.  Give me five scoops of vanilla, please, doused in syrups, crushed by a mound of toppings, and buried in whipped cream.

Something more like this:

Flavors: Can You Have A Favorite?

Well, yes, obviously. But even though I am a creature of habit [Greek Chorus: Understatement of the year!], I abhor when people are monogamous when it comes to ice cream flavors. Seriously, you can't always want vanilla.

I admit I have my taste predilections. Mint chocolate chip, cookies and cream, and anything with Heath Bar or toffee will automatically tempt me. 

But this summer I need to force myself to lick outside of the box. Just because I have a vivid memory of ordering pistachio ice cream (incidentally, my husband's favorite) at Friendly's when I was 5 and crying because I hated it so much doesn't mean I shouldn't revisit this perfectly respectful type o' cream this season.

Readers, flavor suggestion?

You Scream For Ice Cream. I Shriek.

My taste for cake and craving for cookies come and go. My appetite for ice cream never diminishes, not even in the coldest New England winter when consuming a cone outdoors might lead to frostbite of the lips.

This summer I will be eating more than just ice cream. Maybe a carrot here and there. But the focus of this ephemeral blog is to chronicle my experiences with "creams" as my  inamorato Wyatt likes to call them. Scoops at the ready and stay tuned.