Chocolate chip cherry no-churn... ice cream?

I just can't seem to get enough of all those lovely pictures and recipes for ice cream out there these days. I spent hours in the heat last week looking at one photograph after the other, wishing I had the ice cream maker kit for my Kitchen Aid but, honestly, I can't justify buying one on a whim just to make ice cream a few times in the next month, until I move on to my next endeavour.

So I started ogling non-churn ice cream recipes and even though there are not half as many of them, there still are a few different methods for making it. One involves stirring the mixture every 15 minutes once it is in the freezer until it starts turning solid, but that is way too time consuming for me. I cannot imagine myself sitting around the house all afternoon waiting to stir my non-churn ice cream. Also, just thinking of opening and closing the drawers of my over frosted freezer and fitting the container in the abovementioned overflowing drawers is enough to discourage that course of action.

Another method involves blending frozen fruit with cream or custard and then freezing. You can blend again right before serving for optimal texture. I think I will try this next.

Last, a foolproof method which caught my eye, suggests using condensed milk to ensure creaminess and no ice crystals in the cream. No stirring once in the freezer, no cooking or eggs... hmmm, interesting.

I was sold.

So I pitted a big bag of very ripe cherries (I was very grateful for my cherry pitter, another on-a-whim buy from two years ago, although a much cheaper one than a Kitchen Aid accessory),  whipped up some cream, chopped some bitter sweet chocolate and made the ice cream. Next I put it into the freezer and waited the 6 suggested hours.

Not enough, back into the freezer.

Result?

I am not gonna lie to you: it ain't ice cream.

It is cold, pretty creamy, good, but it just isn't ice cream as we know it. Because the truth is the flavor is lacking in depth, the depth only custard gives you. And although it doesn't have crystals in it, it is not the same kind of creaminess you get from real ice cream.

So next time I will be trying the other method. Or, more likely, sooner or later I will give in to buying the ice cream kit for my Kitchen Aid.

Until then I may make this summer dessert again. It is good, so go ahead and give it a try. But be warned, just don't call it ice cream!

Sweet cherry pie for my sweet

My baby turned two yesterday so even I, despite being a somewhat delusional smitten mother, can no longer justify calling him a baby. He is now officially my big boy or my little guy.

Last summer, inspired by all the blogs I read, I bought a cherry pitter on sale.

I know this has no connection with what I just wrote, but bear with me.

It was already the end of cherry season so I put it away and by the fall I knew I had bought yet another one of those kitchen utensils that would end up at the back of my kitchen drawers. However, as summer came round and cherries started appearing at the market and at our table, I thanked my lucky stars I had bought that gadget.

You see, my son is cherry obsessed, he cannot get enough of them. He is also a toddler, with all the fixations that ensue. There is no way he will eat a cherry that I lovingly prepare for him by cutting it into small pieces (to get rid of the pit and to ensure he doesn't choke). Nope, he does what his big sister does, thank you very much, and believe me, he has his ways of convincing us. I will leave it at that.

Enter the cherry pitter, my best friend (I already have a lover), my saviour. Mommy and Daddy quickly pit a few cherries and he gets his bowl of round, red whole spheres minus the pits and he is happy as a lark. And so are we. No more ear plugs required at the dinner table.

So I decided to make him a cherry pie for his birthday. He nibbled at it, like my kids mostly do around cake, and even had a cherry. It was a success.

So happy birthday, little guy.

My little guy, who sings "to youuuu" every time someone says happy birthday to him (in Italian and English).

My little guy, whose canines are as pointy and sharp as a wolf cub's. And don't ask me how I know.

My little guy, who loves cows and monkeys above all, except his sister maybe.

My little guy, who repeats whole sentences, gestures and intonations without really saying a word.

My little guy, who offers his cheek when asked for a kiss.

My little guy, whose legs turn to jelly when he doesn't want to do something.

My little guy, who still loves it when I kiss the sole of his feet like when he was a teeny baby.

My little guy, who drinks water like there is no tomorrow.

My little guy, who sings along to any song he hears.

My little guy, who was an ugly duckling that is turning into a swan.

My little guy, who never wanted to come out and left sagging tummy skin visible signs of protest.

My little guy, who proves to me daily that I was wrong, that it was much better having a little boy instead of another girl.

Happy birthday baby big boy. I love you.

Adapted from Smitten Kitchen