Most people who buy malt powder do so to make malteds, not homemade everything bagels. But days after making those bagels, I found myself with a perfectly good carton of malt powder and, having made a chickpea stew for dinner, I figured: “Hey, we deserve some chocolate malteds.” Here’s the thing about chocolate malteds: you don’t make them with chocolate ice cream. You make them with vanilla ice cream and chocolate syrup.
What does it profit a man to make profiteroles? Turns out: it profits a man a great deal. A woman too.
Profiteroles are happy little puffs that you slice in half, fill with ice cream and then drizzle with chocolate sauce. Sort of like little ice cream sandwiches, except they’re not sandwiches; they’re more like buns filled with ice cream. And making those buns (or puffs, really) is such a cinch, I could probably make a batch in the time it takes to write this post. And once you have them, all you need is ice cream and chocolate sauce and you’re ready to serve up an elegant dessert.
Somewhere along the way, I lost interest in making ice cream. I didn’t lose interest in ice cream, just making it. So if I were to have a dinner party, I might make brownies and hot fudge sauce for brownie sundaes (as I did for an upcoming episode of The Clean Plate Club), but I’d buy the ice cream at the store and that was that. I was happy. I’d been there and done that with ice cream. But then a cookbook showed up from one of my favorite restaurants in all of New York (maybe in all the land), Franny’s, and there at the back was a recipe for one of the best ice cream/gelato concoctions I’ve ever tasted: their toasted almond gelato.
Good people, I have returned to the land of the living. As I stated in today’s newsletter (my first since August (subscribe here)), half of my cookbook was due this past Friday and I turned it in with a great sense of accomplishment and relief. Now I have some time to breath while my editor reads it over. And that means more blogging, more newsletter writing, and more time to spend with a certain someone I’ve been ignoring too much lately: (said in a Hallmarky, dramatic voice) me.
Hi everyone, my name is Toasted Almonds. You might not think much of me–I know nuts aren’t the most beloved of foods, and toasting? It sounds like a waste of time, right?–but I’m here to convince you that I’m a worthy addition to your cooking repertoire.
My brother, Plain Almonds, is a nice guy and all, but between you and me? He’s a little boring. For example, he underlines words that he doesn’t know when he reads, then he makes flash cards and studies them later. That’s Plain Almonds for ya. But me? I’m a wild man. When I read, I doodle inappropriate pictures in the margins of the book. Like last week I drew pictures of toasted, skinless hazelnuts in the margins of “Crime & Punishment” and Plain Almonds got so mad! He told me I was trail mix the next time I tried a stunt like that.
[Click to enlarge.]
First things first: as David Lebovitz gets lauded for his masterful new ice cream cookbook The Perfect Scoop, it’s important to note that but for the recipe on page 73, this book would be considered an abomination. That recipe–for Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt–lends the book an authority and sophistication that it would otherwise lack. And sure, it just so happens that the recipe is by yours truly and that David gives me credit in the recipe’s introduction (he calls me “a nice Jewish boy”), but objectively speaking that recipe makes the book. That recipe and this one for watermelon sorbetto.
Ok, and all the others too. This book is incredible. As you may recall, the frozen canister component of my ice cream maker went missing, so I went to Williams Sonoma and used part of a gift certificate to get another. They don’t sell that component separate, so I had to buy a whole new ice cream maker, but for $60 it came with TWO frozen canisters: quite a bargain! (And the best $60 you can spend to ensure a happy summer.) [Actually, you can get one with one canister on Amazon right now for only $50: click here!]
When I got home, I cleaned the canisters thoroughly and popped them into the freezer. The next day, I came home from a hot afternoon parched and craving icy refreshment. Could I use David’s book to sate my craving? How long would it take? What could I make fast?
For The Love of Yogurt (Blueberry Yogurt Cake & Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt) [PLUS: A Kitchen Travesty]
We food bloggers are creating quite the online ouvre. While some of us are leaving behind breast cupcakes, the rest are leaving behind fabulous recipes. Case in point: Clotilde’s Blueberry Yogurt Cake:
And David’s frozen yogurt recipe which I applied to a recently acquired tub of sour cherries making Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt:
The primary ingredients for both these recipes came from–yup, you guessed it–the farmer’s market. The blueberries and sour cherries I bought from the same stand. I was really only going to buy blueberries but when the woman there mentioned sour cherries I remembered reading an article that said: “If you see sour cherries at the market, snatch them up. You can put them in the freezer and use them after sour cherry season is over.” So I reluctantly requested the cherries too and I went home with two fruits, unsure of what I would do.
The answer came by way of the third ingredient, an ingredient I acquired two weeks earlier at the Ronnybrook Dairy stand. Yup: yogurt. (Cue Mel Brooks: “Ya hoid of me?”) I knew yogurt would last a long time in my fridge and I figured I could concoct something to do with it–maybe eat it with berries and honey or use it to coat my cat after setting her on fire. I figured yogurt was a good thing to have so I bought it. And I forgot about it. Until the blueberries and the cherries came along.