At work, I think of baking. Different cakes with wonderful names: Chiffon, Genoise, Dacquoise. They dance in my mind as the hours pass.
I like baking, even though I’m not particularity good at it. Too impatient to work one pastry to perfection, I jump from one recipe to another. From salted caramel brownies with amber pools of caramel to charred pizza dough, from eclairs that explode with cream when you bite into them to three layered rosemary steeped cakes.
When I bake, I never think of much. And if you’re anything like me, not thinking of much is a blessing. I am tired of consuming fears, of existential crises, of the passing of time. When I bake, time ceases to exist. There are simply actions: melt, mix, fold. Bake on 350f until a toothpick comes out clean. These stabilities ground me, so I bake.
I made a cake for a coworker a when he was missing home. It was a Tottenham Cake. The sponge fell flat and chewy, and the beautiful pink icing cracked. I felt shame presenting it to him.
He wolfed down the four squares I brought before saying a word. “It tastes just like home”, he finally said.
And when I think about that, I cry. We are small, and we are insignificant. But god, what power do we have.
If you guys haven’t noticed, I’m having a serious case of ice cream making frenzy. I only stop to freeze the bowl over. In the past week, I’ve made rocky road s’mores mashup, matcha, and now this Haagen Dazs Coffee Ice Cream Copycat. And its not even summer yet! It’s actually raining outside. Ugh, my lovely Vancouver ☔☔☔.
While I’m not a big coffee-flavor fan (tiramisu would not be my first choice of desserts… or the second… or third), a few days ago at work I just knew I NEEDED coffee ice cream.
Thankfully, I managed to lay my hands on one of those tiny haagen dazs coffee ice cream containers, the ones that come with the cute little spoon that ends up being all messy because my fingers are short and chubby 😞
It was so so good! I gobbled it up in less than 5 minutes, and the only thing keeping me from getting another one was having to face the cashier again. Like how embarrassing is that, I just got ice cream and now I’m coming back for more?
While unable to face such public humiliation, I certainly had no problems doing it in the comfort and safety of my own home.
Do you know what I love? I love marzipan, and I love ice cream. Today the idea to combine the two has dawned upon me. Marzipan ice cream, HOW did I not think of it earlier?
Guys, sometimes I disappoint myself greatly. I wish I could sit down and ponder on my inability to connect two great loves into one, but I just HAD to go and find a good recipe to satisfy my need. I went through a couple until I found this lovely thing by Love and Olive Oil. You know you’ve got a good ice cream recipe when the base is custard – and not just cream / milk, which will result in that yikes-like layer of fat that gets stuck at the top of your mouth from other homemade ice cream recipes.
At time likes this, I am SOSOSO glad I have an Ice Cream Maker. I bought this baby a few months ago and I’ve been using it (a bit excessively, some will say), ever since. And this is winter time, you guys. I can’t even imagine how many tasty treats I’ll be making once it’s summer time 🍦🍦🍦. It’s just so great to be making things from scratch, and to being able to come up with your own crazy flavors whenever you like. Do you have a crazy (delicious) idea for an ice cream flavor? let me know in the comments!!
Marzipan is one of my favorite things. I actually used to hate it when I was little and didn’t understand that almonds = life. Do you have foods (I’m looking at you, previous picky eaters!) that you used to hate and now can’t get enough of? my list is embarrassingly long.
I said marzipan so many times my brain developed a form of obsession which has caused me to open a brand new package (😲) of almond paste and nibble on it while writing this post. And by nibble I mean devour. Cuz it’s gone.
I’ll definitely be making my marzipan ice cream adaptation to this recipe, but not the original. I think my version is less fussy, and it has chunks of marzipan. I don’t think I need to explain myself further.