I submitted an entry into the Queen Anne Farmers Market Holy Tomato! Contest last week. The objective: showcase the glory of the tomato. The parameters? None. What would you do? What do you think I did? Apparently I’m predictable as all get out, in more ways than one, since everyone who saw my dish (who knows me or my blog) took one look at it and knew I created it. I guess that means I have a niche, but sometimes it’s a little frustrating to be pigeonholed, especially if it’s the same hole you’ve been pigeoning around in more or less your entire life. I’ve always been, how do I say this properly, fringe-y. The first award I ever won was “most shocking pumpkin” at a pumkin-carving school contest when I was seven. Apparently sticking two meat cleavers on either side of the jack-o-lantern face was shock-inducing. Imagine a kid bringing that pumpkin to school in this day and age- seems crazy now that they let me get away with it.

The next award came along in junior high (this is not counting all the statewide spelling bee’s I so nerdily won, mind you) when I was voted “snazziest dresser.” WTF did snazzy mean in the 1990’s, people? I’m sure it was for the time I made a pair of bellbottoms out of upholstery fabric I found at the Goodwill and then tied 20 bells around the cuffs of each leg. I got sent home because my outfit was “disruptive.” Then in high school I was voted “most likely to be on the cover of Rolling Stone.” I have no idea where that one came from considering I haven’t played an instrument since the cello in sixth grade, and even though I KNOW I can sing, I’ve been assured by everyone else who’s heard me that I can’t carry a tune nearly as well as I can carry a glass of vino to my lips repeatedly, which is apparently my true Olympic talent. It was around that time I realized my calling was Halloween costume contests. I’ve never met a Halloween contest I couldn’t win, and enjoyed much success in that realm, due, in large part, to the fact that I’ve never dolled myself up like a “ho” and blasphemed the holiday by using it as an excuse to look cheap and tawdry. Not that I haven’t gone nearly nude, it’s just usually in more of an intellectual, complicated sort of way, and there tends to be fire shooting out my nipples or something equally as startling.

All this is to illustrate the fact that I’ve been eternally shoved into the odd box and I can’t seem to get out, no matter how hard I try to do something that might compel the masses. I’m really not counterculture- I have friends who drive Range Rovers, live in Beverly Hills and Bellevue, have fake boobs and get botox injections. I’m sure I know a Republican or two, even. I guess I just have a place in life and I might as well make myself comfortable and kick up my heels. Which is why I should have known my tomato entry would win “most creative” before I ever thought up what I was going to make. I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining- I am thrilled to add a notch to my bedazzled, Gaga-fied, chartreuse, shiny dragonskin belt. I just sometimes wish the ideas that come into my head as perfectly normal things to do wouldn’t be met with comments like “that’s so original” or “how on earth did you ever think of that?” I don’t try to be “creative” “original” or “complex,” especially on the plate. I just try to combine classic flavors in ways that seem delicious to me.

Once again, I deconstructed the classic BLT sandwich and presented it in frozen format. I did this last fall and I was not 100% thrilled with the outcome, so I went back to the drawing board, changed the “bread” to a maple-pecan Pizzelle, tweaked the bacon ice cream (by adding lots of bourbon), substituted pea shoots instead of lettuce in the sorbet, and finally messed around with egginess and creaminess in the tomato gelato. I garnished the plate with a candied heirloom grape tomato sitting on top of a pea shoot and piece of homemade bacon. It was pretty. It was classic. It was delicious (if you don’t mind me saying so). But I guess it was also “creative.” I’m just one big self-fulfilling prophecy so I better get used to it. The thing is, who wants to eat “creative?” Wouldn’t you rather eat “fan-fucking-tastic?” It’s kind of like the adjective I use when someone asks my opinion on something and I don’t want to insult them- “that’s interesting.” Or something you’d say to a five-year-old who just made you an indiscernible fingerpainting. “Very creative, little Suzie.”

photo courtesy of Queen Anne Farmers Market

That being said, I was thrilled to have won the award, and the ultimate accolade came when the lone chef at the judges’ table took out his iPhone and snapped a few shots of my dish. I don’t know what he was thinking, exactly, but whatever it was must have been inspiring enough to want to remember, so that made me very happy. All three judges popped the candied tomatoes like crack, and luckily I had brought an extra plate of them so was able to share some candied tomatoes with the crowd. They are so easy, and make great additions to other canapés and appetizers. For example you can candy a tomato and set it on a basil leaf perched on a round of mozzarella, or if you’re feeling really decadent top a cracker with a candied tomato and a slice of seared foie gras. I will leave you with the candied tomato recipe, though if you’re really interested in one of the frozen component flavors, let me know and I’ll email you that as well.

Candied Tomatoes

Note: increase the sugar and water as necessary if you have more tomatoes, or if your pan is not a very small saucepan, as you want enough depth to the candy syrup to be able to easily dip your tomatoes and coat them.

• 1.5 c granulated sugar
• ½ c water
• 24 grape tomatoes with stems intact, washed, and thoroughly dried

1. Boil the sugar and water in a small saucepan stirring constantly until the syrup reaches 330° as measured by a candy thermometer. Remove from heat. Working quickly, use tongs to dip the tomatoes into the syrup by their stems. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet to harden. If you want to affix them to the surface on which they will eventually set, do so within fifteen minutes so they retain some tackiness, but not right away, as they’ll be too hot.

I’m applying for a patent on this one. It is going to be very difficult to describe the extraordinary nature of this dish without employing the use of exuberant expletives, but I will try.  It all started with a strawberry picking and tasting adventure a mere one hour from Seattle and yet worlds away.  As my city-slicking Mercedes rolled through the gentle flats of the Skagit Valley, signs encouraged drivers to “slow down and follow your nose” which I did with aplomb.  The fertile flats of Skagit produce some of the finest grown goods in Washington, and stellar strawberries are no exception. Our small group had the great pleasure to tour and visit Skagit Sun berries as well as listen to the insightful musings of Farmer Don on the history of his berries and cucumbers (that sentence was not meant to sound dirty, but upon rereading it, I suppose it could be misconstrued).

Photo courtesy of Luuvu Hoang

We participated in a blind tasting of eight varieties of strawberries; I had no idea there would be such a vast difference in flavor.  In the end, I preferred two varieties: Shuksan and Hood. Shuksan berries are sweet and red throughout, with uniform flesh, a short shelf-life and unbeatable versatility in terms of complementing sweet and savory dishes as well as being great fresh or cooked.  The Hoods were piquant and almost candy-like in flavor with a thorough, intense sweetness that lingered on the palate for ages.  It is the height of Shuksan season right now, so get them while you can. Farmer Don was kind enough to let us pick our own flats of Shuksans so my mental wheels got to turning whilst we were out there under the haze-laced sun plucking away.  I love jams and jellies as much as anyone, but I was not about to preserve these precious plumpies for posterity.  I decided on both a sweet and a savory application, and somehow the divine inspiration of the strawberry gods put the idea of chocolate pasta into my head (well that and a conversation with my friend Luuvu).

When I got home, I promptly made a custard of Shuksans and lavender that would become ice cream the next day.  I also whipped up a crema pasticcera (pastry cream) infused with lavender with which to fill the chocolate pasta sheets.  The next day, the real work began.  {INSERT TERRIBLE CONFESSION HERE} Regular readers of my blog will know that I’m a primadonna pasta purist. I do not crank out sheets of pasta, I gently roll them with an old wooden pin, then cut whatever pasta I’m forming using a pastry cutter.  As far as tools go, I’ve always been happy (to make pasta 3+ times a week) with my pin, cutter and a glass of wine.  Well, the universe conspired and produced a gift certificate and a HUGE sale I couldn’t refuse, so long story short, I’m now the proud recipient of a pasta attachment for the Kitchenaid.  This chocolate pasta is the second I’ve made with it, and the most unfortunate part is that I no longer seem to need the glass of wine while pasta-making. You see, the wine acts as a thirst-quencher between rolls, but when a machine takes all the work away, you no longer require parch-abatement.  I suppose the pasta machine will help cure my excessive wino-ism, but it has also taken a little piece of my soul along with it.  I’m vowing to hand-roll at least once a week- we will see how it goes.

For the pasta, I made a typical dough of flour and eggs, to which I added Dutched cocoa and a touch of sugar.  I was worried about the consistency, but it rolled out beautifully and crimped together perfectly to form round discs filled with pastry cream.  I made the pasta around noon and did not boil them until 9pm, so they sat on a parchment-lined sheetpan for many hours with no refrigeration. There were no ill-effects of this, as they boiled up nicely and the texture was perfect.  Since my pasta would not be complete without a sauce, I boiled down Shuksans into a compote with butter, sugar and Grand Marnier.  I put it through a sieve to remove the seeds, then drizzled the sauce over intermittent rounds of ravioli and scoops of ice cream.  This is the part where I would use some holy s3*TTTT expletives to describe the wow-factor of all the complementary flavors and textures in this dish, but I promised not to, so I’m going to have to go stuff my gullet full of sweet sweet bliss aka chocolate ravioli and bid my adieu to you. Until next time, keep it super real out there in the spectacular sunshine.

I’ve been on a frozen, sweet kick lately in my posts, but then, that’s what springtime is all about. Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll see the return of pasta and duck eggs very soon.  I am a lucky girl. Imagine stumbling upon a ripe, succulent basket of rambutans in Seattle in May. It happened to me a few days back and for that I am grateful. What, say you, is a rambutan? It’s a tropical fruit like a lychee that is all things gorgeous wrapped into one spherical, brilliant package.  I imagine you can guess what I did with said fruits if you know me at all by now. Yes, I made gelato. And it tasted like a little scoop of tropical paradise. As it should. 

I probably sing the praises of Uwajimaya market in Seattle entirely too much on this blog, but I can’t help it. It’s like a giant cornucopia of amazing ingredients with which to endlessly experiment.  I don’t often have the chance to bite into the spiky splendoriffic rambutans, so when I do I really maximize my mouthful, if you know what I mean. 

Uwajimaya gets little shipments of precious produce in frequently. You never know what you will find.  More often than not you find something utterly addictive, yet upon returning to the store, alas, it is no more.  Ah well, the name of the culinary game is versatility, and this rambutan gelato speaks volumes to that. 

It almost tastes grape-like, if the grapes were in their especially succulent, very raw state. No amount of fermenting or cooking would benefit the rambutans in gelato, so I made sure to keep them in merely a cold yet pureed form.  Texture is everything when it comes to frozen custard, and this fairly safe rendition of a classic custard ratio does not disappoint.  In the words of Yo Gabba Gabba (you will get this reference if you are the parent of a small child) “Try it. You’ll like it.” 

Rambutan Gelato

• 16 rambutans,  shelled and pitted
• 2 c milk
• 3 egg yolks
• ½ c sugar
• Salt- pinch
• 1 tsp vanilla

 Blend rambutan’s with ¾ c milk.  Place blended mixture in a mixing bowl with a fine mesh strainer set over the top.  In a medium saucepan warm the remaining milk with the sugar and salt. Once it’s nearly boiling, quickly whisk it into the waiting egg yolks and transfer the mixture back into the saucepan, whisking all the while. 

Stir constantly until the custard thickens enough to coat the back of your spoon. Pour through the strainer into the rambutan mixture, add vanilla, and chill over an ice bath stirring occasionally. 

 Chill custard in the refrigerator thoroughly before churning into ice cream/gelato following your ice cream maker’s instructions.

 

When you hear the word colostrum, does it conjure a sexy image, or what? Probably half of you haven’t heard the word before and maybe think it sounds a tad clinical. The rest of you have probably had a child, so you know that colostrum is the stuff that oozes out of your breasts before the milk fully comes in.  What in the hell does this have to do with ice cream? Well, cows produce colostrums during calving season too. Technically the first few milkings of a mama cow after her calf has been born are considered colostrum. It’s easy to tell the difference between colostrum and milk, if only from the hue. Colostrum is yellow-orange, and significantly thicker than plain milk. It is so thick, in fact, that it makes a mean custard, and you don’t even have to add eggs.  Its popularity is growing in this country as a health food product, where it’s typically sold in powdered form.  It is said to contain antioxidants and aid in athletic performance as well as prevent illness, though the research seems to be somewhat scant on the subject. 

In British English colostrum is colloquially referred to as “beestings” and a quick online search will reveal a sizable lot of funky old colostrum recipes that date back to the mid 20^th century.  They all sounded fun and quaint, but I wanted to up the ante a touch with my coveted colostrum, so immediately I thought ice cream.  You may be wondering where in the hell I managed to find such a rare thing in its fresh, natural state.  We are blessed in Western Washington to have a slew of artisanal farmers, ranchers and producers who care about providing local, organic foodstuffs to regional consumers. I love that the supply line is utterly transparent in these instances, and in most cases consumers are welcome to visit the farms directly.  If a direct visit is too much of a chore, do not fear.  The ample daily farmer’s markets around the Puget Sound showcase wares from many of these purveyors, including those from Sea Breeze Farm.  I gratefully brought home some Sea Breeze colostrum, happy that a mama cow had birthed a baby the night before so I could reap the reward. 

Since I’ve never played with the consistency of colostrum I chose to run a few experiments in ice cream making.  The recipe printed below was the clear winner, so my time spent is your gain, should you ever wish to play with some colostrum.  I added egg yolks to one version, but that was just ridiculous as the colostrum thickens so much on its own that no added egg is necessary. I also played with a combination of milk or cream for the additional liquid element, and found that (unsurprisingly) cream gave a better texture and richer flavor.  The final ice cream produced is smooth, unctuous, and rich in a way typical ice cream is not. Perhaps it’s a touch thicker and less airy, but the softness makes up for any lack of lightness. 

I rarely make vanilla ice cream. Instead I go for flavors that are more fun to experiment with like the time I made this frozen BLT, or my infamous garlic chocolate gelato.  Because I wanted to note the flavor of the actual colostrum, however, I felt vanilla was an apt choice.  It’s plenty lovely all on its own, but when you can drench ice cream in espresso, why wouldn’t you? This is called an “affogato” in Italian, which means “drowned.”  It’s a right nice way to drown your sorrows at the end of a long spring day, no?  Plus think of all the added health benefits you’re getting from the colostrum! I’d say this is a dessert fit to be eaten regularly if it weren’t for the scarce availability of colostrum. Nevertheless, if you can hunt some down, check this out, you’ll be glad you did. 

Vanilla Bean Colostrum Ice Cream

• 1 Pint colostrum
• ¾ c sugar
• Pinch salt
• 1 Vanilla bean- halved lengthwise, seeds urged out using a paring knife
• 1 c heavy cream
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Place colostrum, sugar, salt and vanilla bean seeds and pod in a medium saucepan.  Bring to a very low boil, immediately remove from heat, cover and let vanilla infuse for ½ hour. 

Meanwhile place the remaining cup of heavy cream in a medium bowl set over an ice bath.  Place a fine-mesh strainer on top. 

After half an hour, slowly reheat colostrum custard, stirring constantly to dissolve and marry all ingredients. Once you reach boiling point, remove from heat and pour through the strainer into the chilled cream.  Add the vanilla extract and vanilla beans, stir, and chill thoroughly before churning by following the instructions on your ice cream maker.  (when you churn, remove the vanilla beans)

To turn this into an affogato, simply drench a scoop or two of ice cream in a shot of fine espresso.  If you want to make an “affogato corretto,” which means affogato corrected, simply add a shot of alcohol to the dessert in addition to the espresso.  Italians will use grappa or whiskey typically, but rum will also work well with this dessert.

Wow- over two weeks without a post. Boy did I ever miss you lovely people? I was off on a crazy top-secret adventure that will reveal itself very soon. I hate secrets, so I should probably just stop talking about it and get to the meat of this post, I just wanted to share exactly how much I wanted to be here blogging, and to let you know in no uncertain terms that my absence was in no way self-imposed.  When I first started blogging and I would read other bloggers’ posts about how supportive and amazing the blogging community was I thought it was a bunch of cheesy drivel.  Now, after two weeks away, I realize just how much I depend on this strange connection to people I’ve never met, but seemingly I have more in common with than folks I’ve known since infancy.  I’m happy to be back and I hope you enjoy the Tim Tam Slam as much as I did. 

Australians have damn good taste in cookies! Or do they call them biscuits down under? Maybe they have some hybrid word for it I haven’t yet heard, like biscookies or cookscuits.  I’m going to go with biscookies. I like the ring to it.  Plus it doesn’t sound so fattening that way. How could something that sounds so cute be fattening? Yup, going with biscookies. That way I can eat like 20 and not worry about the excessive indulgence- yes! Well anyway, this post is all about the best little biscookies to come out of Australia, swim across several seas and land in my lap.

 I discovered Tim Tams completely serendipitously, which is how I can really tell we are meant to be together for life.  I was in the grocery store the other day talking to one of my best friend’s on the phone while I shopped for a gift. What was I doing shopping for a gift in the supermarket, you ask? Well it was a gift for some foodie friends of mine, one of whom lives in Canada and has the lovely blog www.eatlivetravelwrite.com while the other lives in Australia and can be found at http://jeroxie.com/addiction/We were participating in an exchange, basically mailing off food items that would be incredibly common where we lived, but not so common where we were shipping them off to.

 I was on the phone with Lily because she had just gotten back from Australia the week before and I wanted to run my selections by her to ensure that they would indeed be unavailable in Oz.  Well truth be told she wasn’t much help because she just kept raving on and on about how great everything is in Australia and how they have this and that and all these glorious things we doltish Americans blindly go without.  She focused especially on these nuggets of caramelly-chocolately goodness called Tim Tams.  I happened to be walking down the cookie aisle and I thought I would take a quick peek to see if perhaps they had actually made it here without her knowledge.  You see she lives in the backwoods middle of nowhere and doesn’t get out much, so I figured cosmopolitan Seattle (ha!) might have a leg up on tree-ville snowland. Sure enough, staring back at me from a tucked away corner of the cookie aisle was a gleaming box of Tim Tams.  Lily was outraged that I had direct access to such lovely biscookies, but I offered to mail her some so I think she’ll be alright. 

I took them home and managed to leave them in the cupboard and forget about them for roughly one week.  I had a glut of homemade ice cream to get through, plus early spring is more of a savory time for me and I don’t crave a ton of sweets. That all changed when I opened the damned package of Tim Tams.  I typically hate pre-packaged snacks, but these little monsters are “open the package and eat the whole thing in one sitting” good!  I had picked up two packages thinking I’d mail one to Lily, but alas, that never happened since they all ended up in my tummy.  It’s quite sad, really, I’m training for a half marathon so I go out and run five miles most days, but I come home and undo all that hard work with one whiff of Tim Tams.  If you have never tried them, I caution you not to, or at least if you do, don’t hold me responsible.  This is not the attitude I’m adopting toward my immediate friends.  I’m trying to infect Seattle at-large with a Tim Tam addiction as big as my own, so whenever a new person walks through my front door, I practically shove a Tim Tam straight down their throat.  I’ve made converts by the dozen- it’s getting dangerous. 

Lily told me about this amazing thing called a Tim Tam Slam.  Basically you bite off each end of the Tim Tam then use it as a straw to ingest a shot of espresso. Or maybe coffee, but I steadfastly refuse to believe people drink that watered-down drivel, so espresso it is in my mind.  I’m not much for coffee beans in any form factor, truth be told, but I have been meaning to get around to espresso ice cream, and the Tim Tam Slam gave me a way to make it all the more palatable.  I made my espresso ice cream which definitely passed the paddle-licking good test all on its own according to all three members of my household.  Then I made it even better by churning in a bunch of Tim Tams a la frozen Tim Tam Slam.  I had eight people for dinner that night and they all went back for seconds on the Tim Tam Slam! This from a group of gay men who rarely eat and tend to watch their figures more than I do.  “Oh I don’t eat dessert” quickly gave way to moans of pleasure as we all savored the genius of those clever Australians.   Well, and the genius of me too, since I came up with the whole frozen twist, not to toot my own horn or anything since I’m sure it’s been done before, though pretty good for an American, right? Ok, I’m going to sneak downstairs and steal a Tim Tam from the locked away secret stash before dinner.  Please don’t tell anyone, ok?

 

How many reinventions can the classic BLT sandwich undergo? This version, while not your typical rendition, certainly packs a punch in the department of deliciousness.  My new favorite thing is blind gelato tastings; it’s amazing the flavors people think they’re eating, and when you break down and tell them the actual taste, the look on their faces tends to be photo-worthy.   With the BLT redux I did everything I could to make it obvious what we were eating.  The hardest part was the bread.  I finally settled upon shortbread cookies cut into squares and dipped in chocolate around the edges so as to resemble crust.  The color of each flavor turned out remarkably akin to their natural-state counterparts, yes, the frozen BLT is something to behold. 

The inspiration for the frozen BLT is threefold.  I just finished curing and smoking my first-ever batch of homemade bacon, thanks to Michael Ruhlman.  When I think of him, I think of his BLT challenge, something I did not participate in mere months ago as I had still not come around to eating pork products at the time.  I’ve always viewed pork as the final frontier, having gone from a complete vegetarian to one who eats meat occasionally in the last few years.  Only recently did I get to the point where I included pork in the acceptable category, and when I embrace something, I like to do so wholeheartedly. 

I twittered about my homemade bacon, soliciting recommendations on the highest and best use for it, and the mastermind behind the beautiful blog Vegetable Matter suggested bacon gelato.  Leave it to a vegetarian to come up with a great use for meat!  One thing led to another and I soon found myself poring over David Lebovitz’ Perfect Scoop- the bible of frozen desserts.  He inspired me to go the maple bacon route, however I deviated quite a bit from his recipe, most notably using maple sugar as my sweetener which is soooo delightful I’m tempted to use it in all gelato hereto forth. 

My jumbled mind kept ruminating on all these thoughts and like a slot machine spinning its three wheels for a perfect jackpot, the BLT idea pinged to the forefront.  Initially I planned to make all three flavors into gelato, but I started pondering the quandary of the lettuce, and eventually decided because of the high water content, it would have to be a sorbet instead.  Since I went down that path, I started considering the weight of all my ingredients, and I think you’ll agree with me in considering bacon more appropriate for ice cream than gelato.  It is such a rich, deep flavor first off, so the creaminess of ice cream should hold up to it better.  It is also incredibly American, in that regard ice cream is apropos also.  The tomato has a gentleness that gelato is perfect for, and while cream might overwhelm it and bring it into the tomato soup realm, just water a la sorbet would be a touch too light for my sandwich style dessert. 

The hardest part for me is keeping my mouth shut during dinner when all I want to do is bust out dessert straightaway and gets everyone’s honest take on the wild new concoction of the week.  When the time finally came to serve it up, Jonas and I snuck away into the kitchen and plated away like mad elves.  I quickly brought out dessert, trying to have everyone taste at the same time so that no one could unduly influence another’s opinions with preconceptions.  The bacon was pretty easy to guess; I had cut my candied bacon strips into small chunks, but not so small that they were unrecognizable.  The tomato and lettuce proved completely unrecognizable.  People thought grass, pea, bean, even mint (!) for the lettuce, which I found highly interesting. 

I suggested that my guests start thinking about the plate as a whole, asking what the shortbread cookies resembled, urging them to go in the right direction.  It was not until I outright gave the “sandwich” clue that someone finally guessed the infamous BLT.  I personally was a little nonplussed with the lettuce flavor, but once it was revealed, everyone was shocked by how much they liked it given what it was.  I’m going to leave you with the recipe for the real standout of the evening, the bacon ice cream.  I mean, how wrong can it be to combine two of the greatest things on earth into one, right? Enjoy.

Bacon Maple Ice Cream a la Awesome

For the bacon

• 5 strips of thick cut maple (or sorghum in our case) bacon
• 2-3 tbsp maple sugar

For the ice cream custard:

• 3 tbsp butter
• 2/3 c maple sugar
• 1.5 c whole milk (preferably raw)
• 1.5 c heavy cream (add cream to milk and stir to combine)
• 5 duck egg yolks (or 6 if using chicken eggs)
• ½ tsp pure vanilla extract
• 1 tbsp bourbon such as Maker’s Mark

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 maple sugar evenly over each strip of bacon.
4. Bake for 12-16 minutes, turning once halfway through baking to encourage even sugar distribution.  Set on a wire rack to cool.
5. Once crisp and cool, chop into bacon bits.
6. To make the ice cream custard, melt the butter in a heavy, medium-size saucepan. Stir in the maple sugar and 2/3 of the milk/cream mixture. Pour the remaining milk/cream 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 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 milk/cream, stirring over the ice bath, until cool. Add vanilla and bourbon.
10. Refrigerate the mixture. Once thoroughly chilled, freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions or hand churn using an immersion blender between three freezes over the course of 4 hours, then freeze completely.

Add the bacon bits during the last moment of churning, or stir them in when you remove the ice cream from the machine.

I was pretty nervous to serve my guests garlic chocolate gelato last night.  That’s why I made three flavors, so that if they didn’t like the garlic chocolate they could delight in the obvious goodness of gianduja chocolate chip, for example.  Or take global comfort in the spicy delicacy of cardamom pistachio, from India and Italy with love.  The good news is that I had plied all 5 of them with enough wine throughout dinner to loosen their lips, so I’m pretty sure I got candid comments between creamy bites.  Curious what they thought?  Well first let’s talk about the “safe” flavors. 

I fell hard for gianduja gelato when I lived in Piedmont, the global capitol of said flavor.  If you’re not sure what it is, think really, really amazing Nutella times ten whirled into a cono piccolo of gelato and just see if you don’t scarf that down in less than two bites in the middle of Piazza Castello on a sweltering July day.  I make it pretty regularly using a recipe I’ve modified only slightly (duck instead of chicken eggs) from David Lebovitz’ The Perfect Scoop.  The key is to use fresh hazelnuts that you roast yourself which adds a complex beurre noisette richness to the silken cream.   It’s a people pleasing powerhouse of a gelato flavor; you can’t go wrong here. 

Cardamom pistachio is a more recent addition to my gelato repertoire.  My absolute all-time favorite gelato flavor is pistachio, and this past summer I discovered Stramondo pistachio cream with which to make said gelato.  I am officially in gelato heaven every time I taste a dollop of this flavor, albeit a very expensive heaven since I’ve been using an entire 8 oz jar (at $30) to make one small batch.  I’ve always thought cardamom and pistachio married well with one another, so this time around I figured I could get by with half a jar of pistachio if I infused a bit of cardamom into the mix early on.  I was right- according to a dozen unsuspecting tasters in two different laboratory tastings (aka parties at casa Salty), the flavor combo was a resounding success.  The only problem is that I still have half a jar of the pistachio cream and I find myself sneaking downstairs in the middle of the night to steal spoonfuls from the fridge.  This wouldn’t be so bad in itself, it’s just that the cat hears me open the fridge and clink through the silverware drawer and he thinks I’ve come to my senses and decided to proffer him yet another serving of soft food.  When I don’t come through, he proceeds to trip me the entire way back upstairs, and by then I’ve woken the entire household from falling on the stairs and cursing. 

The real tour du force of the gelati triumvirate was of course the aglio cioccolato.  I served it two nights in a row to two different sets of tasters.  The first night I lacked confidence in the flavor, so I warned everyone what they were about to taste and offered the garbage can as a spittoon, should the need arise.  No one took me up on the garbage can, and our collective initial skepticism was gradually replaced by increasingly fervent spoon-clinks from dish to mouth.  Several of the dinner guests proclaimed it their favorite of the three when it was all said and done.  Since we had a new set of guests the next night, I tried my experiment again, this time with no warning as to what taste they could expect.  The scoops look unassumingly chocolate from the outside, so I shut my trap and let them eat.   “Mmmmmm, what is this, Linda- bacon and chocolate?”  I shrugged with a smile.  Another taster: “No, not bacon, I think she put some salted caramel in there, maybe one of her Japanese salts or something.”  At that point I gave them a hint- think vegetable kingdom, very common, just not in dessert.  They were stumped, but just like the night before, everyone made quick work of their scoops.  When I revealed at the end of dessert that it was garlic, there was only one naysayer of the bunch, but that’s ok because he naysays everything and he doesn’t even like chocolate gelato in the first place.  The moral here is that I will be making gelato al aglio cioccolato again- it will go into the permanent files and I’ll dredge it up again when the garlic looks sweet and purple as it does right now. 

A quick note about the garlic: I’ve had the idea of sweet garlic pairings ruminating in my head for awhile, and I chose this gelato to showcase it in largely because I was finally able to locally source purple Italian garlic this time of year.  Its russet purple skinned bulbs have a pungent sweetness that richly complements Mediterranean cuisine; consequently I thought it would be the apt choice in a dessert.  If you wish to recreate this gelato, I would pay special attention to the type of garlic you have available and use something on the sweeter side, if possible. 

Another quick note about gelato-making:  I do not have a gelato or ice cream maker.  The primary reason for this is because when I make gelato I always make at least three flavors so that my guests can experience variety, and also because flavor preference is so personal that I feel people should get a selection in hopes that I’ll serve one that they really really love.  With the vast majority of artisan (as opposed to professional) ice cream makers, you have to freeze the bowl overnight prior to making your gelato.  Since three bowls will not fit comfortably in my freezer (not to mention being cost-prohibitive) I elect to hand churn my gelato.  It really isn’t hard, especially since you’ll likely be in or around the kitchen anyway since you’ve taken the time to make three gelato flavors, most likely you’re making a nice dinner to precede dessert.  After I’m done chilling the custard, I always put the bowls in the freezer for an hour, remove them, stir the gelato to separate it from the edges of the bowl, then blend with the hand mixer for about 15 seconds.  I do this three times (over the course of three hours it’s really only about 10 minutes of active time) and then let the gelati freeze completely.  The results are better than most commercial gelato I’ve ever found, perhaps with the possible exception of some of the amazing gelato they produce at Slow Food-endorsed Grom.   Of course if a little birdie were to get me a professional ice cream maker for Christmas that I could use to churn out multiple flavors daily without re-freezing, I doubt you’d find me complaining :)

Recipes follow for the pistachio-cardamom and aglio cioccolato gelati.  The gianduja can be found in David Lebovitz’ The Perfect Scoop. 

Gelato al Aglio Cioccolato

• 1 c whole milk milk (I use raw, non-homogenized non-pasteurized milk for its superior flavor.  If you do not have a source for this, either ask me in the comments section of this post and I can steer you in the right direction, or at the very minimum use utterly (should I say udderly) fresh, organic milk)
• 1 c heavy cream 
• 2 cloves sweet garlic such as purple Italian garlic smashed but with skins left on
• 2 egg yolks (duck yolks impart a richer flavor)
• 1 egg
• ¾ c sugar
• 2 oz semisweet chocolate chopped
• 2 oz bittersweet chocolate chopped

1.  Heat the milk and cream in a saucepan just to the point ofboiling and add the garlic.  Remove from heat and steep, covered, for 15 minutes.  Remove the garlic and reheat the milk and cream along with the sugar.
2.  Meanwhile, whisk the egg and yolks until well-combined.  Once the cream mixture is almost boiling, gradually whisk it into the eggs, constantly beating so that the eggs do not curdle.  Pour the mixture back into the saucepan and gently boil over low heat until the custard thickens and coats the back of a spoon. 
3. Remove from heat, pour into a bowl that contains the chopped chocolates, and stir until chocolate melts.  Lid the bowl and refrigerate to cool completely before churning. (You can speed the cooling process by putting the bowl in an ice bath, but my preferred method is to make all three of my custards the night before I plan to serve gelato, chill them overnight in the refrigerator, then begin the churning process the next morning.)

Cardamom-Pistachio Gelato

Note: This gelato is thickened in the Sicilian way, using cornstarch instead of egg yolks

• 2 cups whole milk (I use raw, non-homogenized non-pasteurized milk for its superior flavor.  If you do not have a source for this, either ask me in the comments section of this post and I can steer you in the right direction, or at the very minimum use utterly (should I say udderly) fresh, organic milk)
• 15-20 cardamom pods
• 1/3 c sugar
• 2 tablespoons cornstarch
• 4 oz Stramondo pistachio cream or other high-quality pistachio cream. Those cans you find at the grocery store for $6 will not produce fine results in this recipe, you will want to splurge here, it’s worth it. 

1. Heat all but 1/8 c milk along with cardamom pods in a heavy-bottomed saucepan just to the point of boiling.  Close lid, remove from heat, and let steep for 20 minutes.  Fish out cardamom pods and add the sugar, returning to heat. 
2. Mix remaining milk with cornstarch and add to the heated milk just as it begins to boil.  Stir thoroughly to prevent clumping and continue to stir constantly until custard thickens and coats the back of the spoon.  This can take anywhere from 1-3 minutes over medium low heat. 
3. Remove from heat, pour into a bowl with a lid, and refrigerate to cool completely before churning. (You can speed the cooling process by putting the bowl in an ice bath, but my preferred method is to make all three of my custards the night before I plan to serve gelato, chill them overnight in the refrigerator, then begin the churning process the next morning.)
4. Once the custard is thoroughly chilled, add the pistachio cream, mix completely, and either start the churning process outlined above or freeze according to your ice cream maker’s instructions. 

Next time you find yourself cruising South Genessee Street, stop into Flying Squirrel. If the Herb Alpert Pizza is on the menu that night, don’t hesitate to order it.  Follow it with a Molly Moon’s Salted Caramel Ice Cream Sandwich. You can thank me later!