Peaches 'n' cream (no-cook) ice cream

 

 

 

It is late in the afternoon. The shutters are half closed, a woman lies on a bed covered in a patina of sweat, her tanned limbs splayed over tangled white sheets. A ceiling fan hums quietly above her.

 

If this is were one of those movies set somewhere in the tropics in the Fifties, she would be the sultry love interest, shining with a post-coital glow. But this is Milan, summer 2013. And that lady is me. I lie sprawled on my bed, gasping for air like a fish out of water, my bangs stuck to my forehead and my hair scrunched up unattractively on the top of my head while my kids chase each around noisily in their underwear, my son resembling one of the Village People in his briefs and hard hat, my daughter in panties and costume jewelry (less is more, as Coco would have said).

The awareness that we will be lying on sandy shores and swimming in crystal clear waters soon undoubtedly makes the high 30's and suffocating humidity much more endurable.

 

 

 

In the meantime, however, we have been battling the August heat however we could this past week.

On the week end we discovered a corner of paradise that I am fondly reminded of whenever I look at the blisters on my feet, brush against the sunburn on my shoulders or feel my sore thigh muscles. Mental note: maybe it isn't just the heat that is keeping DH stubbornly turned the other way in the marital bed.

I have been making lots of iced tea, the latest with rooibos, which *round of applause* I found at my local the supermarket.

Then I made ice cream using an ideal recipe because it did not require standing next to a hot stove stirring the custard base.

 

 

 

 

When you use a Ben & Jerry's recipe, you usually know you are going to get a good result, even when it is so hot that your Kitchen Aid ice cream attachment has trouble freezing the cream (at one point it actually started melting and I had to quickly mix in the peaches and put it in the freezer) and when you invert the amounts of milk and cream (because you don't have enough of the latter). If you manage to churn the ice cream all the way and use that extra cup of cream (because I am giving you the original quantities), you will be in for an even creamier delight than ours.

 

 

 

Recipe from Ben & Jerry's

Ingredients (makes 1 quart)
4 small ripe peaches, peeled and chopped (about 2 cups)
1 to 1/4 cup sugar (depending how ripe the peaches are)                 

juice of 1/2 lemon

3 eggs (or 2 large)                  

2 cups cream

1 cup milk               

 

Combine peaches, 1/2 cup of sugar and the lemon juice in a bowl. Cover and refrigerate for a couple of hours, stirring the mixture a few times.

 

Drain the juice into another bowl and return peaches to fridge.

 

Whisk the eggs in a mixing bowl until light and fluffy, add the remaining sugar a little at a time and whisk until completely blended.

 

While whisking, pour in the cream, the milk and then the peach juice until blended.

 

Transfer the mixture to your ice cream maker and freeze following manufacturer's instructions.

 

When the ice cream ice ready, add the peaches and freeze for a few hours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! Bittersweet chocolate and maple butter pecan

 

This post is looooong overdue.

True, I was gone for a few days here, doing this. I have been back for a while now, except I stepped off of the plane directly into an intense reporting season at work combined with the end of summer school, which means F and I have been juggling morning and afternoon parenting duties with one of us rushing out the door to go to the office the minute the other steps in.

I did however find time to buy a shiny new toy.

Don't say I didn't warn you, because I mentioned here that I knew this was likely to happen sooner or later, only you probably didn't think it would be so much sooner rather than later. But hey, I have plenty of perfectly good excuses*.

Those of you who follow me on Pinterest may already have a hunch. Roll of drums please.

Ladies and gents, I present you my brand new Kitchen Aid Ice Cream maker attachment.

This baby churns out some delicious ice cream, this said by someone who lives in the land of gelato. 

I get all the reasons for not owning an ice cream machine, because I had all of them until a few days ago. I understand not having the kitchen space, being lazy about planning ahead, not wanting to be tempted by the extra calories or preferring to splurge on a pair of heels.

But then again, if you have the cooking bug; if you need to watch out how many calories you ingest (yes, I am totally aware that I just used this pro as a con in the paragraph above) and thus every fat-laden calorie has to be delicious and worth its while; if you are the kind of person who despite feeling lazy, is willing to go out on a dark, cold winter evening to buy some ice cream; if you can spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about what flavor you will choose the next time you have an ice cream, because there are oh so many possibilities! well, then you should own one, what are you waiting for?

Oh, the calories... Well, although it is early on to argue my point, it is much more time consuming to make ice cream than to open a container and this makes you appreciate it more once it is ready. Also, when you realize what goes into your homemade ice cream, even if you are using wholesome and organic ingredients that you can count on one hand, you will think twice about having a second serving.

I admit to having initially developed a little custard-phobia whilst reading the many recipes I found online. I mean, I had gone down the custard path before, but reading one post after the other about curdling, lovely creams turning into scrambled eggs, made me a little anxious.
So far I have made two flavors and have yet to encounter the "c" problem. It may just be beginner's luck, but I actually find the process pretty easy and I did not use a food thermometer.

Then there was also an initial scare with my ice cream machine attachment. My European version just doesn't seem to attach well to the motorhead and during my first attempt, in my zealousness to fit it better halfway through churning, I almost broke it and had to finish churning my chocolate ice cream by hand before freezing (which explains the somewhat odd texture you may notice in the photos). I was already feeling very sorry for myself when I read on several forums that the piece isn't really supposed to fit tightly. So after a wobbly start (honestly, the instructions sorta sucked) I realized that was just how it works and have started mixing in the chunky bits by hand at then end rather than during the last couple of minutes as suggested (my attachment unhinged again when I tried that). Better safe than sorry.

The end result, however, is delicious and I love that I didn't have to buy a whole new appliance, so I am still a fan of the Kitchen Aid accessory, despite the wobbliness (why can't the attachment just be like the more-stable-looking US version for crying out loud?).

Now, let's get down to business.

Strawberry panna cotta

These past days have all been about food you can eat with a spoon or literally drink.

My mouth feels like the Hunger Games were held in it.

Cuts, gaps, stitches. The whole lot.

On Monday I had my three remaining wisdom teeth drilled, broken to pieces and yanked out of my surgically cut open and bleeding gums extracted and since then eating has involved very little chewing.

My first day was all about yogurt and ice cream. Might I add that there is just no fun in being allowed to indulge in pints of that stuff when it feels cold in one part of your mouth and hot on the other side, where it not so attractively dribbles out of the corners down onto your chin?

Yesterday, however, was a different story. Not only was I starving by then, but I was drugged and happy and had the whole day to cook without the kids around.

I had visions of making my own bread since I finally had all the time in the world to let it rise, only to remember I wouldn't be able to bite into its warm, crunchy crust once I pulled it out of the oven.

Next I thought of finally trying to make my own macarons, but I got tired just reading the many tips and precautions I would have to take.

Truth is I was heavily medicated on antibiotics and painkillers and didn't have the energy to get started on such a mastodontic task.

So I settled with what I do best: simple and tasty. Plus something that could be consumed with a spoon and stitched up gums.

I recently made a Bavarese that I wanted to post about, but the unmolding did not turn out quite as well as I had planned and the pictures I took were in the dark at a friend's house. Not blog material, so I had been waiting to make it again to post about it. At the last minute, however, I opted for a panna cotta, which is similar in concept minus the eggs and milk. Oh, and the cream is not whipped. The end result was not all that different tastewise or texture wise, and it was certainly quicker to assemble, but as I write this there is probably already a shouting crowd of inhabitants of Piedmont waiting outside my door with pitchforks.

Panna cotta (literally cooked cream) may be the quintessential Italian dessert but I am not much of a pudding person and have never been a huge fan. Not that I dislike it, I just don't love it. I mean, if I am going to have the calories, I may as well go for ice cream or a huge piece of chocolate cake.

I have to admit that making my own has somewhat changed my mind. Not only is there something comforting about seeing the fresh and few ingredients that go in there, do I need to remind you of the heavenly combination of strawberries and cream? Come on!

Also, promise me you will taste a spoonful of that vanilla bean and sugar infused cream before you mix in the puree... swoon! Honestly.

And there is something fun, that brings out your inner child, in using gelatin sheets. Wheeeee!

(Oh, about the gelatin in sheets. Although it is typically used in Italy for this recipe, I am aware it is not easy to find everywhere. I did some reading up for you and it seems that 1 1/2 teaspoons of powder/granules can be used to substitute 2 sheets. Or, if you prefer a vegetarian option, 1 teaspoon of agar agar can be used for every half liter (500ml) of liquid).

The thing that you will find the hardest is waiting for the panna cotta to set. Oh, and perhaps the unmolding. Read the instructions well.

Now that I made this, I am thinking of the possibilities... endless.

Red tape, white soup - Cream of celeriac, potatoes and roasted garlic

You know how they say a little sneeze can start an avalanche?

Well on Monday I sneezed…

My first mistake was waiting till pretty much the last minute to get some important paperwork done. This knowing very well for something like, uhm, ten years that this day was approaching. This even if I had started working on the process well over a month ago.

In my defense I would like to point out a few of things:

1. I am normally a pretty organized person
2. I usually don’t leave things to the last minute
3. The immigration officer on the other end of the phone seemed pretty relaxed about deadlines when I called to enquire
4. How was I supposed to know that as of 1 January 2012 the whole certification procedure between bodies of the Italian Public Administrations was going to change? I mean even the guy in point 3) didn’t know! Ok, I live in Italy, I shoulda known better.

Back to Monday:

(scene)

Blonde female puts papers into an envelope with a satisfied smirk (she has after all just solved problem in the above point 4) and fills out the last page of a stack of forms. She pulls out her passport to copy the number and expiry date and lets out a bloodcurdling scream. (Cut)

Yes, my passport is expiring in 3 weeks, when the abovementioned envelope should have been sitting on a desk at immigration containing a valid copy of said passport.

After this horrible Monday-morning discovery, images of a big red stamp reading "deported" loomed in my mind for the rest of the day. Images of my Italian children crying out "Mamma, Mamma" as I am being dragged handcuffed onto an airplane. My husband declaring eternal love and promising he will find a way of getting me back.

A question arises spontaneously: how the heck did I not remember that my passport was expiring exactly in the timeframe of the process required to renew that slip of paper that allows me to live in this country?

Well, the truth is I have a phobia of all things involving red tape. As a citizen of one country with a parent from another country growing up in yet a third country, my situation is sometimes a little confusing. As a person who often feels like she belongs everywhere and nowhere, bureaucracy can get a little intimidating. I am always waiting for that paragraph 10b, subsection VIII to jump out at me demanding a paper everyone else in the country has that totally screws me over because "I am not an xyz citizen" or "I wasn’t living here at the time sir". My phobia is not at all helped by the fact that I live in a country that is notorious, to say the least, when it comes to bureaucracy.

So let’s just say that despite point 1) and 2) above, this is one of the few cases when I tend to push off a problem, to pretend it does not exist.

Maybe if I don’t think about it, it will go away… (girl rocks back and forth in a dark corner with children’s song playing in the background).

Oh, and then life got in the way with birthdays and Christmas and family visiting and then the deadline was suddenly upon me. I always leave extra time for last minute problems or emergencies. But no, when it involved something as important as this, yours truly decided not to count the days and to live in lala land instead.

Idiot!

And that is how the avalanche started and got worse and worse.

The rest of my day was spent on the phone, on the Internet, mumbling and cursing, with a tear or two in between.

Did you know, conveniently, that immigration calling hours are in the morning and Consulate calling hours are in the afternoon? And that I work in an open plan office space? And that the lines are constantly busy and when the line is free you are endlessly transferred to another extention where you have to explain your whole life story again? I am sure my colleagues enjoyed that. And the pigeons on the terrace, where I eventually moved after a few dirty looks.

And did you know you have to make an appointment to even get in to the Consulate? And that the US passport photo format differs from the European size? And that only one out of ten photographers will print in that size? And that this is the era of digital photography so finding a photo lab (what where they even called when they existed???) is practically impossible? And that when you find one their computer has broken down? And when you find another one, they are closing early? And that I had to print out three pages in English from the Consulate's website for the Italian photographer to study before clicking away?

Well, as much as you like a good story, I will admit that at the end of all this I found a place right next to home where a lovely lady studied hard and knew exactly what she was doing (25 to 35mm from chin to top of head, no smiling, white backdrop, no headgear, no strange accessories etcetera, etcetera, etcetera).

And then after searching for the entrance for quite a while and leaving any electronic devices at the office and asking the bar tender next door if he could watch my bike helmet while I disappeared into Fort Knox because it could turn into a weapon of mass destruction if inappropriately used, and getting undressed and storing my lip gloss in a miniature locker and showing my passport and answering questions and being escorted from the elevator I actually got everything done at the Consulate in the matter of minutes with the assistance of very kind and helpful personnel, both inside and out.

And it seems, after searching on line for hours, like the deadline for my permit renewal is actually not as close as I initially read so the man in point 3) had every reason to be relaxed.

So fingers crossed, but it seems that things are looking up.

After a week like this, a nice bowl of warm and comforting soup is all I ask for.

If you have been reading my blog for a while you know about my revelation. This time I changed the ingredients around a bit, getting the creaminess from potatoes instead of flour and a nice little additional boost from the garlic.

It hit the spot!

Chocolate and chestnut truffle cake

 

Who would've thought, when I walked into that office more than 15 years ago for an interview, that those rooms would become such a meaningful place in all our lives?

So much happened there, good and bad: that desk is where I got the call from my husband about the first plane crashing into the World Trade Center; I remember calling family and friends before the lines were disconnected, to make sure they were safe. That is where one of us faced the ugly C word, another one of us announced the creation of two lives that were then prematurely lost. But it is also where I planned my wedding and then showed my honeymoon pictures. Where friendships bloomed.

The first person I saw while sitting in the hallway waiting for my interview became my wedding witness and lifelong friend; well, more of a soulmate than a friend if you ask me. We were born and grew up in the same city but our destiny was to meet on another continent. She lives across the Ocean now, but we are as close as if she were still sleeping over on the tiny Ikea couch of the first apartment F and I called home.

One day a Texan at heart walked into those rooms to make and enquiry and never left (the premises or my affection).

The pretty blonde, a real English rose, I sat down and chatted with nervously during that interview is the kind of friend I don't need to see or talk to that often to call her that.

The awesome Tasmanian with the beautiful mane of fiery red hair (to match her creative spirit and the clementines below) and the voice of a black blues singer moved back home recently and took a little piece of all our hearts with her when she did (together with two very precious things she had been waiting for for the longest time, her daughters).

The only true Italian of the gang, a good friend and enthusiastic follower of this little blog, contributed the right touch of Mediterranean character with her contagious laughter and loud chatter to this group of Americans (yes, Canadians included), Brits, Southafricans, Barbadians, Kiwis, Aussies etc. (you name it, we had it) .

 

What did we have in common at the beginning? Not much really, except we all spoke English. And yeah, were were all young(er), funloving and a good looking bunch if you ask me. But that was it. We came from different cultures, backgrounds and educations. We had different interests, friends, aims.

But we clicked.

I think we all realized to what extent when we separated a few years later.

In time, the evenings spent in front of pitchers of margarita (I am still paying for that night) or downing a few too many vodkas (even those who stated to have never gotten drunk - and you know who you are - are still paying for that party), the late night drives down country roads to hidden-away biker hangouts, the Halloween parties and summer barbecues gave way to weddings, baby showers and family brunches.

Most of us have moved away, others will be moving soon, some closer and some farther. But almost two decades later we still get together whenever possible.

Now we are parents, we party a little less and change diapers a little more. We may be scattered all over the world and have a wrinkle or two, but inside we are the same people and when we are together we connect.

This is a cake I made to celebrate the visit of our "Australian connection". It is the kind of cake you make for a festive occasion, a large group of people. It is rich and decadent and a slice is enough to satisfy your longing for chocolate. Well, unless you are my daughter. Yes, the one who doesn't usually eat my desserts, she had two. If she liked it and if the recipe comes from this girl, then you know you have a keeper.

Roasted fingerling potato and leek soup with spinach

You know how some weeks are just much busier than others? Well, last week was one of those weeks.

On Monday my daughter's school held its spring fundraising party, on Tuesday she had her vaccinations, yesterday we had a class meeting to discuss an upcoming trip (more on that soon - this alone generated a whole new level of matters to tackle), the elementary school she is starting in the fall called to fix an appointment for orientation (which we luckily managed to move). All of these happenings naturally took place during office hours. On top of this, Italian listed companies are reporting their first quarter results this week making it extremely hectic at work and the husband is away on a business trip.

Yesterday was also nail-cutting night.

Yes, nail cutting. If you are wondering why the heck that would even be worth mentioning, you are not a mom. Cutting the nails on four little hands and four little feet in constant movement is no easy task. Even worse when those feet are ticklish or those hands are scared of scissors. To top it all off, for those of you who aren't informed, the speed in nail growth is inversely proportional to the child's age: the younger they are, the quicker they seem to grow. So half of the time, you feel like you gave birth to Struwwelpeter.

As a result it has been a week of simple meals. In my usual quest to feed my kids as many vegetables as possible I made a your classic potato and leek soup with a few handfuls of spinach in it. What made it special was the roasted leftover fingerlings I used in it. Boy did that take it to another level.

You can have it warm and simply call it potato and leek soup or be fancy and have it cold as a Vichyssoise. I promise you, you'll love it either way.

I don't know about you, but I have been having some trouble with blogger the last few days, making it impossible to post or comment. Many comments on my last post were deleted in the process, but for those of you who left them, I want you to know I did read them and answer them. Thanks.

Nigella's oeufs en cocotte with truffle oil (R.E.R. part 4)

Quite a while back I started a section called R.E.R. (ridiculously easy recipes). My idea was to write about recipes that a) are so easy you don't really even need a recipe, but that we make all the time at home and may be a new idea for you despite their simplicity or b) we think everybody knows how to make except us so we prefer looking it up on the Internet rather than asking someone and feeling stupid.

Looking back, I realized that three out of the four R.E.R.s I have posted so far involve cooking eggs and that is not a coincidence. Despite their versatility and how quick they are to make, a certain amount of technique is required when preparing them. After all, there is a reason why they say you can tell a real chef by how he/she cooks an egg.

This is a recipe from Nigella Express, a book full of quick and easy recipes for a rushed week night dinner that will still impress your guests. These eggs are a perfect idea for that brunch you are hosting this week end or for a comforting Sunday night meal, which is how Nigella grew up eating them. You can serve the eggs with toasted bread, fancy olive or parmesan bread sticks or asparagus Bismark style. You can flavor it with anything that appeals to you, from crunchy bits of bacon to chives, smoked ham, spicy tomato salsa or even cheese. But if you ask me, I think truffles and eggs are a match made in heaven and would be happy to eat them breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I had to make these a few times before getting them right. It is not as easy as you would expect to get the egg whites firm without the yolk cooking through and viceversa. Nigella says her mum used to bake them in the oven for exactly 19 minutes at low heat, but she prefers to bake them for 15 minutes at 190°C/375°F. I had to reduce the cooking time considerably and went from overcooked to undercooked before getting them the way I liked them. My advice is to stand in front of that oven and watch those suckers closely after the first ten minutes. If you are not quite sure, open the oven and shake the pan a little. If the whites are solid it is already too late. They need to wobble a little, but not too much (because there is nothing I dislike more than runny, slimey whites).

Chocolate ganache tart with hazelnut crust and chocolate glaze - Help Japan

Posting about a dessert when tragedy has hit my fellow humans in such enormous proportions seems terribly superficial. Talking about ganache and toasting hazelnuts seems inappropriate when what I am really thinking about are my close friends facing yet another difficult health-related challenge. Beating eggs while history is being rewritten right across the Mediterranean seems silly.

The truth is that no matter in what proportions tragedy hits, whether macro or micro, life goes on. Life made up of small gestures like going to work, preparing a meal or picking up your kids from school. These are the things that keep you grounded when your own life has been overturned. We all see enough images of tragedy on the evening news, on the Internet, photographed on newspapers. And lets face it, even if something is not splattered across the front pages of the papers and we go on living our everyday lives, there is still something terrible happening somewhere to someone, for such is life.

I realize this is not the place to discuss the tragedies of our planet. People clicking onto my blog don't need to hear more about them, they come here to get an idea for dinner, but also for distraction, to escape everyday life for a few minutes, or so I like to think. I made lasagne with pesto without commenting on our Prime Minister's frolicking, I baked chocolate chip cookies while dictators were being overthrown and uttered not a word. But sometimes it is impossible to ignore what is happening outside, in the real world. So forgive my digression. This is my ode to normality.

Perhaps rolling out dough and following precise steps can be soothing, can momentarily distract from painful thoughts, can help bring back a touch of normality to someone's home.

For us, this cake was a celebration of friendship. We shared it with good friends and thought of other good friends who are not close enough to come by for a cup of coffee, a slice of cake and some words of comfort. Being close to people you love, family or friends, enjoying their company in a warm home while it is raining outside is a privilege we must never take for granted. So if you make this, promise me you will savor every bite. Think of the earthquake victims. Think of a loved one going through a rough time. And maybe bring them a slice, even just with your thoughts. I know I did.

Adapted from Dulce Delight. 

With this cake I am participating in the online bake sale for Japan promoted by The Tomato Tart. Sabrina is the mind behind this fabulous idea, a way to try to help support Japan in its darkest hour. I am so happy she has offered me the opportunity to contribute somehow. The auction  proceeds will be donated to Second Harvest Japan, a food bank that is working right now to respond to the immediate needs of the people displaced by this disaster. Whoever is interested in participating, please contact Sabrina directly through her blog. She was very helpful and promptly replied to all my questions.

T.G. I. F. gratin

Thank God It's Friday. It has been a long, busy week at work and I really am thankful for the week end stretching in front of me: I am looking forward to little feet pattering into our room in the morning, small warm bodies trampling piling on top of us, breakfast together and two whole days to spend with my family.

My Friday recipe is fish-based.

Wait, all this talk of being thankful to God and fish on Friday...no, we are not strict Catholics, we are not churchgoers at all really. Our family is a mix of religions and cultures, not as common here as it is in other places. My family tree includes German protestants, Polish Catholics and New York Jews (of German descent). My husband's family is Sicilian Catholic and I too was brought up in Catholic Italy. So there is a reason why my parents and my husband&I decided to let our children choose their creed growing up. We do teach our children about God and values that are important to us but we try to do it with a broader scope, encompassing things we agree with in many religions. We want our children to grow up respecting and knowing more about other possibilities. I know many may disagree strongly and I realize broaching the subject of religion on  a food blog is perhaps inappropriate. I apologize if I am offending anyone in any way. The reason I am writing about this is because I believe strongly that food and the pleasure of sitting at a table with family and friends is something all cultures and thus all religions share and as a consequence I firmly believe that eating together and feeling the same enjoyment really is a way for people of different beliefs to grow closer and understand each other better. Isn't it true that we are what we eat, in all senses, and that teaching others the recipes we grew up eating is a way of teaching them to understand where we come from, our history and our heritage?