Candied Bacon Ice Cream

So, this one time, when I was 15 and Jordan was 11, we were standing outside in my grandma's driveway, and Jordan was bugging me.  So I cooly (at least it felt cool at the time, like everything when I was 15--rainbow nail polish, Calvin Klein t-shirts, and the crush on that one-eyed Jehovah's Witness) sauntered back to the house, saying, "Well, that's fine. I'm just gonna go get a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch."

After I took about six steps, Jordan realized what I knew already: that there was only enough Cinnamon Toast Crunch for one more bowl.

So he ran.

And so did I.

And we met at my grandma's storm door, wrestling away, fighting for the last bowl of tasty, delicious, brand-name cereal.

But here's the thing.  Jordan's big.  Like 6'5".  And I'm not slight by any means, but even at those ages he pretty much owned me physically*.  So we wrestled and fought.  I might have thrown a knee or accidentally bit him.  But he was winning.

And then my elbow went through the door.  Through it.  Like glass everywhere through it.

Mmm hmmm, we broke Grandma's door.  Shoot.

The cut I had was so deep that I probably should've had stitches, but we didn't roll that way in our family, so I got a bandage and some ice and I cried.  I cried partly because I had a cut on my elbow that was about 1/2" deep and it hurt like a sombitch.  But mostly I cried because, as I nursed my wounds, I looked over to see that jerk of a brother of mine sitting at the table, eating the last bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Now, 15 years later, I have sweet revenge, because I discovered David Lebovitz's (I bow to you, Mr. Lebovitz!) recipe for Candied Bacon Ice Cream.  And it's pretty much the greatest thing that's ever happened.  And it tastes like the breakfast that they would serve you on a farm in heaven.  Except better.  Because there's whiskey in it.

And bacon.

 Candied bacon that is basically like caramel corn bacon.

Every bite tastes like the best breakfast you've ever had.  Except that it's ice cream, so you can totally eat it whenever you want.  Does it get any better than that?  Nope.  I pretty much just want to make buckets of this ice cream and then run up and down the streets of Savannah sharing it with everyone.

Except for Jordan.  I kind of hold a grudge.

*Which is totally why I resorted to evil mind games.  I'm good at them.  Just ask Matt.  Or my students.

David Lebovitz's Candied Bacon Ice Cream

For the candied bacon;
5 strips bacon
about 2 teaspoons light brown sugar

For the ice cream custard:
3 tablespoons (45g) salted butter
¾ cup (packed) brown sugar (140g), light or dark (you can use either)
2¾ (675ml) cup half-and-half
5 large egg yolks
2 teaspoons dark rum or whiskey
¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
optional: ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

1. To candy the bacon, preheat the oven to 400F (200C).

2. Lay the strips of bacon on a baking sheet lined with a silicone mat or aluminum foil, shiny side down.

3. Sprinkle 1½-2 teaspoons of brown sugar evenly over each strip of bacon, depending on length.

4. Bake for 12-16 minutes. Midway during baking, flip the bacon strips over and drag them through the dark, syrupy liquid that’s collected on the baking sheet. Continue to bake until as dark as mahogany. Remove from oven and cool the strips on a wire rack.

5. Once crisp and cool, chop into little pieces, about the size of grains of rice.

(Bacon bits can be stored in an airtight container and chilled for a day or so, or stored in the freezer a few weeks ahead.)

6. To make the ice cream custard, melt the butter in a heavy, medium-size saucepan. Stir in the brown sugar and half of the half-and-half. Pour the remaining half-and-half into a bowl set in an ice bath and set a mesh strainer over the top.

7. In a separate bowl, stir together the egg yolks, then gradually add some of the warm brown sugar mixture to them, whisking the yolks constantly as you pour. Pour the mixture back into the saucepan.

8. Cook over low to moderate heat, constantly stirring and scraping the bottom with a heatproof spatula, until the custard thickens enough to coat the spatula.

9. Strain the custard into the half-and-half, stirring over the ice bath, until cool. Add liquor, vanilla and cinnamon, if using.

10. Refrigerate the mixture. Once thoroughly chilled, freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Add the bacon bits during the last moment of churning, or stir them in when you remove the ice cream from the machine.

Malted Milk Ice Cream

I know that I have a penchant for hyperbole, and that sometimes that might make it seem like I just loooooove everything, and sometime you  might think to yourself, "That Mandy--she's an idiot. How could everything be sooooo good?"  And you'd do my monotone and uninterested voice in your head and then roll your eyes or something.  Well, don't do that.  Or do.  I don't care.

But you just need to trust me here.  There's a tier of desserts--in this case, ice creams--that are at the very highest level of deliciousness.  There are a handful of ice creams and sorbets that I've made that I feel deserve this ranking: Thomas Jefferson's Vanilla Ice Cream, Banana Puddin' Ice Cream, Raspberry Sorbet, Pumpkin Cheesecake Ice Cream, Blueberry Cheesecake Ice Cream, David Lebovitz's Chocolate Ice Cream, and last--but far from least--Homemade Samoa Ice Cream.  There are others that are also good, but not deserving of wild, exhaustive praise.

But this one, David Lebovitz's Malted Milk Ice Cream, is just heavenly.  The flavor, the texture, everything.  It's perfect.  Lebovitz has said that this is his favorite ice cream recipe from The Perfect Scoop, and I think I  might agree.

If you like Whoppers, you will go bananas for this.  If you don't like Whoppers, you will still go bananas for this ice cream.

Oh, and if you're reading this post and you're all, "Oh man, that sounds good, but I don't have an ice cream maker," then you need to go click here and purchase yourself one.  It's a need, not a want.  A NEED, I TELL YOU!

So, make this.  Make it and share it.  You'll be happier and more beautiful and everyone will want to be your friend.  People will fall in love with you and fight over who gets to take you places and buy you things, all because of the ice cream.

And I'm not the only Malted Milk Ice Cream enthusiast out there.  Amateur Gourmet wrote a song about it.

Seriously. 

Here's the recipe.  You need to make this ice cream.

David Lebovitz's Malted Milk Ice Cream
Recipe by David Lebovitz

Note: In The Perfect Scoop, Lebovitz explains that you should use malted milk powder in this recipe, and Ovaltine is not an appropriate substitute.  I used the Carnation brand, which he recommended.

Ingredients
1 cup half-and-half
3/4 cup sugar
Pinch of salt
2 cups heavy cream
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
2/3 cup malt powder
6 large egg yolks
2 cups malted milk balls, coarsely chopped

Warm the half-and-half, sugar, and salt in a medium saucepan. In a large bowl, whisk together the heavy cream, vanilla, and malt powder and set a mesh strainer on top.

In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warm mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Pour the custard through the strainer and whisk it into the malted milk mixture. Stir until cool over an ice bath.

Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. As you remove the ice cream from the machine, fold in the chopped malted milk balls.

*****Oh, and also, you should go check out my reviews page to read about my upcoming HomeGoods Hotlanta adventure and about how you will be able to enter to win a $100 HomeGoods gift card by just entering a little ol' comment!*****

An Ice Cream Sandwich for the King.

First things first.

This weekend, during all of the kitchen bitchin', I made (along with Cris, who was quite a sport) a double batch of chocolate waffle cones.  They were super cute.

Um, you can also shape waffle cones into little bowls! 

Unfortunately, they were really finicky and hard to get just right.  I thought about sharing the chocolate waffle cone recipe with you, but think that I'll work on perfecting it first.  (Like, only about 20 percent of them were the right amount of crispy without being burnt.  They tasted okay, but the texture was. . .wanting.)  If you're really jonesin' for some waffle cones, make the vanilla ones.  They're fan-f'ing-tastic*.  Also, you don't have to feel guilty about sharing them with the dog.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah!  Chocolate waffle cone mediocrity.  Mmmmm hmm.  Well, here's something I figured out.  If you have a chocolate waffle cone that's not outstanding on its own, all you need to do is add some really delicious and creamy ice cream to it.

So, let's switch gears now (because I'm too lazy to come up with a real transition into what I'm really here to talk to you about).

I LOVE ELVIS.

I've loved him for many, many years.

When I was younger, we had cats named Elvis and Presley.

I've been to Graceland. . .twice.

I did my persuasive speech in high school about how Elvis was still alive.  (Why else would his name be spelled incorrectly on his tombstone??  You tell me that!)

I listened to the '68 Comeback Special CD my entire senior year.

I even have Elvis dolls.  And books.  And magnets.  And clothing.  And pajamas.  And the clock where his hips swivel.  The list goes on and on.

When I was young, I did a good Elvis impression.  "Hey 'Cilla, make me a peanut butta and 'nana sandwich."

My favorite Elvis song: "One Night."  My second favorite Elvis song: "All Shook Up."  I think Matt fell in love with me for real when I sang "All Shook Up" at karaoke one night.  I was particularly good at singing "All Shook Up" at karaoke because I had performed it with my vice principal at our after prom party in high school.  (Somewhere there is a video that would provide many a laugh.)

Check out sexy Elvis.

Well, enough already about my past obsessions (that also include: water guns, blankets, puppies, bubbles, cupcaking, Adam Lambert, and Sally Hansen's Complete Salon Manicure nail polish).  I actually still love all of these, but they've just been put on the back burner to make room for new obsessions, like ice creaming.

And what I have for you today is the marriage between new and old, between past obsession and present obsession.

"'Hey, 'Cilla, make me a peanut butta and 'nana ice cream sandwich."

OKAY! (Also, someone had a little too much fun with the Elvis doll.)

It's really, really amazing.

See, I'd been ice creaming all weekend, and I wanted to try a few new recipes from David Lebovitz.  I made this peanut butter one, which is insanely, dangerously, easy to make.  And I made his roasted banana one, which is more involved, and is pretty good as well.  (Full disclosure: if you need to make banana ice cream to stand on its own, make banana puddin' ice cream.  It's better.  But this banana ice cream is better for the sandwich and better for mixing with other flavors.)

So here are the recipes you need.

Peanut Butter Ice Cream
Source: The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz

¾ cup smooth peanut butter

¾ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar

2 2/3 cups half-and-half

Pinch of salt

1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract

Chocolate Covered Peanuts (recipe follows)

Puree the peanut butter, sugar, half-and-half, salt, and vanilla in a blender or food processor until smooth.

Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. 

Roasted Banana Ice-cream (also from David Lebovitz)

3 medium ripe bananas

75g brown sugar

1.5 cups (375ml) full-cream milk

2 tablespoons caster sugar

1.5 teaspoons lemon juice

half teaspoon vanilla extract

quarter teaspoon salt

1. Preheat the oven to 200C.
2. In a small baking dish, chop up the bananas and toss in the brown sugar. Bake for around 40 minutes or until the bananas are cooked through, caramelised and golden. Turn them once during cooking.
3. In a blender or food processor, blitz the hot bananas, the syrup from the dish, milk, sugar, lemon juice, vanilla and salt until smooth. Chill this mixture until cold in the fridge or ice bath.
4. Churn in an ice-cream machine until thick or place in a plastic container, pop it in the freezer and give it a good whip every few hours.

 

If you're still reading, I commend you on your patience and stickwithitness.  

Thank you, thank you very much.

*You know what's awesome?  Infixing.  Not a prefix, not a suffix.  It's an INFIX.  Fan-fucking-tastic.  That's what infixes are.

My New Favorite Dessert, Homemade Samoa Ice Cream

Here's a hint.

What's your favorite Girl Scout cookie?  Are you a thin-minter?  Or perhaps a tagger-along? 

Me, I'm a Samoan.

Mmmmmmmmmmmm. . .the shortbread, the caramel, the chocolate, the coconut.  Nothing's more awesomepants than biting into a Samoa.  (Or a caramel delite if you live in one of those weird places where Girl Scout cookies have lame names.) 

Or, rather, I should say that nothing was more awesomepants than biting into a Samoa.

Because I've improved it.

Because now--now there's Samoa ice cream.

And now you're going to be all, "Hey, did you know that Edy's makes a Samoa ice cream?" and I'm going to be all, "Yeah.  It sucks."  Edy's basically takes one tiny little cookie and breaks it up into 100 tiny little chunks for a half-gallon of ice cream.  Me, I like my ice cream chunkier than that. 

So, after much careful thought and consideration (sadly, much more careful thought and consideration than I've put into making any major decision for my actual life), I decided to make Toasted Coconut Ice Cream.  And then I made Creamy Caramel Sauce.

And then I made this shortbread.

And then I covered it in chocolate.

And then I figured, "Hell, why not toss on some more toasted coconut and drizzle it with chocolate?"

So I had homemade Samoas.

And then I tasted these homemade Samoas and decided that they were crap and that I didn't want them to adulterate my perfect Toasted Coconut Ice Cream. 

So I decided to throw them out.

But then I decided that first--since I'd spent a good deal of time making these not-even-good homemade Samoas--I  should make a little bowl where I combined all of the components.

So I mixed them with the ice cream, just to see if maybe it would be good all put together.  And I threw on some caramel sauce.

And then the angels sang.

And I rejoiced.

And so did Mitch.

And it really is the best thing to come out of my kitchen in a long time.  It's in the uppermost echelon of deliciousness.  I want to cry happy tears just thinking about how wonderful this stuff is.

So, if you're a Samoan, and if your heart so desires, make this.  And don't share with anybody. 

I'm not.

Creamy Caramel Sauce

Step two on my quest to make my new favorite dessert was conquering caramel sauce, so, as you can probably guess, I turned again to Sir David. 

And so what if I completely botched the first batch?  (PS--caramel is bitchy.)  I think it's bad luck to make caramel sauce correctly on the first try.  That's what I read in the Bible.  True story.

The second batch was the bee's knees.  And it is the second major component in my new favorite dessert.  (I mean, for real y'all, are you totally on the edge of your seat--OR WHAT?)

It's no surprise that it's delicious.  And creamy.  And everything that Sir David said it would be.

And it looks really cute in a mason jar.

Make some, and keep it around for two weeks.  You know you want to eat it with a spoon.

Creamy Caramel Sauce, from David Lebovitz's, The Perfect Scoop

1 cup of sugar

1 1/4 cups heavy cream

1/4 teaspoon coarse salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

In a large, deep, heavy duty saucepan or dutch oven, spread the sugar in an even layer.

Cook the sugar over low to medium heat, watching it carefully.

When it begins to liquefy and darken around the edges, use a heatproof spatula to very gently stir it to encourage even cooking.

Tilt the pan and stir gently until all of the sugar is melted and the caramel begins to smoke and turns a deep amber color.

Immediately remove from the heat and whisk in half of the cream, which will steam and bubble up furiously.

Carefully stir until the sugar is dissolved, then gradually whisk in the remaining cream and the salt and vanilla.

If there are any bits of hardened sugar, whisk the sauce over low heat until smooth.

(Serve warm. Keeps in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks, if it lasts that long. Rewarm gently in the microwave or stirring in a saucepan over very low heat.  Also, if the sauce is too thick, you can thin it by adding a small amount of milk or additional cream.)

Toasted Coconut Ice Cream

Alright, alright.

So, this is the first part of a three-part series that will culminate in my new favorite dessert.  (Yeah, I know I've got a penchant for hyperbole, but this dessert is at the highest level of delicious desserts, in my [not terribly] humble opinion.)

Now, I'm not even going to try to lie to you and act like this was some quick 30-minute dessert that you can whip up to take to a pot-luck.  Nope.  It's not.  It's a labor of love.  But it's also totally worth it. 

This weekend, I had a giant folder full of papers to grade, but it was beautiful outside and I had all of the windows open and I was listening to music and everything was right with the world, and I didn't want student papers to sully my perfect afternoon.  And making the house smell like toasted coconut only made that afternoon more perfect.

So here I bring you Toasted Coconut Ice Cream, again by none other than Mr. Lebovitz.  Now, I know that not everyone is BANANAS! for coconut, including Matt. (Who also doesn't like macaroni and cheese.  What's wrong with him?)  And I know that the texture of coconut can be off-putting, which is part of why this ice cream is extra awesomepants.  Matt--hater of coconut, husband who spit out my Pecan Praline Ice Cream--even liked this one.

Because, see, once you toast your coconut. . .

. . .You heat it with milk and then add vanilla bean (I used vanilla bean paste) and let it steep for an hour.

(Doesn't it kind of look like soggy cereal?) 

And then you strain the coconut, so you get all of the coconut flavor goodness without having the coconut texture. 

After that, you just take some regular ice creaming steps.  You know, eggs and sugar, more straining, heating, chilling, etc. 

But when you're done. . .OMIGOD.  I wish this blog could provide those tiny little spoons so that I could give you samples so you wouldn't just have to take my word for it.  And I wish that I wasn't going to keep all of this ice cream for myself because it's just that good. 

When you're done you'll feel, at the same time, like a kid on the last day of school, and like a grown-up relaxing in a tropical paradise.  (Which is pretty much the best way to feel, ever.)

So here's the recipe, including Levotitz's introduction, which I really liked.

Toasted Coconut Ice Cream from David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop

I’ll admit that my favorite selection from the shiny white Good Humor jalopy that cruised our neighborhood was simply called “Toasted Coconut”: vanilla ice cream on a stick, coated with lots of sugary-sweet coconut.

On the last fateful day that I’d ever see the Good Humor man, the bully next door decided to spray him with water from a hose as he slowly circled our block. He beat a hasty retreat and never came back. Being blackballed by the Good Humor man made that the worst summer of my life. I don’t know what happened to the neighborhood bully, but now that I’m an adult I can have Toasted Coconut Ice Cream whenever I want. And I do.—David Lebovitz

Ingredients

1 cup dried shredded coconut, preferably unsweetened
1 cup whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
3/4 cup sugar
Big pinch of salt
1 vanilla bean, split in half lengthwise
5 large egg yolks
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract, or 1 teaspoon rum

Directions

1. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Spread the coconut on a baking sheet and bake for 5 to 8 minutes, stirring it frequently so it toasts evenly. Remove it from the oven when it’s nice and fragrant and golden brown.

2. In a medium saucepan, warm the milk, 1 cup of the heavy cream, sugar, and salt and add the toasted coconut. Use a paring knife and scrape all the vanilla seeds into the warm milk, then add the pod as well. Cover, remove from the heat, and let steep at room temperature for 1 hour.

3. Rewarm the coconut-infused mixture. Set a mesh strainer over another medium saucepan and strain the coconut-infused liquid through the strainer into the saucepan. Press down on the coconut very firmly with a flexible rubber spatula to extract as much of the flavor from it as possible. Remove the vanilla bean halves (rinse and reserve them for another use), and discard the coconut.

4. Pour the remaining 1 cup heavy cream into a large bowl and set the mesh strainer on top. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warm coconut-infused mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

5. Stir the mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Pour the custard through the strainer and stir it into the cream. Mix in the vanilla or rum and stir over an ice bath until cool.

6. Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Super Lemon Ice Cream

Grading essays makes me feel like this.

Which reminds me of this. 

Which makes me laugh and wish that they would move back to the SAV.

But, alas, I have to get papers finished and I can't make my friends stick around forever.  Boo.

What I can do is make ice cream all weekend. (Especially since I had a pretty large supply of cream and milk and produce that wasn't going to be good for too much longer.)  So I took a quick inventory of the refrigerator, and turned to Mr. Lebovitz, the god of ice creaming.

First up, Super Lemon Ice Cream.

Now, I really love lemon, which is good because you really have to love lemon to love this ice cream--especially if you are extra dumb like I am and instead of just zesting the peel of the lemon, you instead puree the entire lemon.*  Yep, then your ice cream is going to be extra lemony. 

The funny thing is that I still liked it a lot, but that's because I like things to be uber-lemony.  I think, though, that I'm going to have to swirl it with something a little sweeter if I plan to serve this people who weren't addicted to War Heads and Cry Babies as kids.** Shoot.

Also, this whole story just proves again how much I need Cassie to move back to Savannah.  She would've known that I shouldn't puree the whole lemon (just like she knew that to knead bread one need not purr and pretend to be a cat). 

Anyway, if you're salivating just thinking about all of that lemony goodness, give this one a shot.  Follow the directions for real and let me know how that one is.  I figure that if it's good even with my huge error, then it'll be great when done correctly.

Super Lemon Ice Cream (From David Lebovitz's The Perfect Scoop)

Makes about 1 Quart (1 Liter)

2 lemons, unsprayed
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice (3 lemons)
2 cups half-and-half
Tiny pinch of salt

Zest the lemons directly into a food processor or blender. Add the sugar and blend until very fine. Add the lemon juice and blend until sugar is completely dissolved. Blend in the half-and-half and salt until smooth.

Chill for 1 hour, then freeze the mixture in your ice cream maker.

*Definitely didn't realize that until I stumbled upon this blog, authored by someone who is much more educated in the language of recipes than I am. 

**I told you already on here about how on my 16th birthday I ate an entire pound of Sour Patch Kids, right?  And how my tongue was bleeding, but I continued to eat them?  Yeah, I'm super smart.  Sometimes I can't even believe that I'm allowed to teach children.

Chocolate Ice Cream!

Did you know that I'm not really into chocolate?  I like it and all, but I'm not one of those people who goes ga ga for chocolate, or who craves chocolate regularly.  Usually I prefer to eat chocolate in conjunction with other stuff (looking at you, peanut butter), and I like the chocolate to take a back seat to the other flavors.

I'm also afraid of making chocolate stuff, because I'm not terribly good at it.  I've had Back in the Day Bakery Cheryl's chocolate cake recipe for a few months now, and am still too afraid of it to make it.  (Also afraid that in the event that I successfully make it, I would eat the whole thing, despite my ambivalence about chocolate.  I need to have a time to share it with others.)  I don't know what's so scary about chocolate.  Mainly I'm just a big sissy.

I absolutely must overcome this fear*, because what kind of baker/ice creamer/fat girl can I be without knowing how to make awesome chocolate stuff?

This week I got one step closer, because I made David Lebovitz's Chocolate Ice Cream.  Plain ol' chocolate.  Also, David Lebovitz is a god.  The god of ice cream.

Now, Matt's mom, who is a chocoholic, doesn't like chocolate ice cream, because apparently true chocolate lovers prefer vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup. But I think this one could convert her--that's how good it is.

The flavor is intense without being overpowering, and the texture is silky smooth.  It's sweet without being too sweet.  This is the chocolate ice cream recipe that I will use for the rest of my life, because I just can't believe that it can get better.  (And I know that I have a penchant for hyperbole, but seriously, I'm telling the truth.)

Get this book. 

And make this ice cream.

And look at a picture of this dog.

And you'll be happy.  (At least until the ice cream's gone and the dog starts whining for treats.)

David Lebovitz's Chocolate Ice Cream

2 cups heavy cream

3 tablespoons unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder
5 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped
1 cup whole milk
¾ cup granulated sugar
Pinch of salt
5 large egg yolks
½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Warm 1 cup of the cream with the cocoa powder in a medium saucepan, whisking to thoroughly blend the cocoa. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer at a very low boil for 30 seconds, whisking constantly. Remove from the heat and add the chopped chocolate, stirring until smooth. Then stir in the remaining 1 cup cream. Pour the mixture into a large bowl, scraping the saucepan as thoroughly as possible, and set a mesh strainer on top of the bowl.

Warm the milk, sugar, and salt in the same saucepan. In a separate medium bowl, whisk together the egg yolk. Slowly pour the warm milk into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the warmed egg yolks back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over the medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula (170°F on an instant-read thermometer). Pour the custard through the strainer and stir it into the chocolate mixture until smooth, then stir in the vanilla. Stir until cool over an ice bath.


Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator, then freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. (If the cold mixture is too thick to pour into your machine, whisk it vigorously to thin it out.)


*Shoot.  That would've been a good New Year's resolution, huh?  Instead I'm left with learning to like tomatoes and to eat at least one egg with a runny yolk.  Also afraid of that, but we'll have to discuss it at a later date.