Recently, Jack and I got into a serious argument. He stated that Pistachio pudding is the best dessert on the face of the Earth. I told him that he was crazy, asking how he could like some thin, electric-green powdered box-dessert when he can have a cool and creamy, freshly churned ice cream. He told me that Pistachio pudding is the best because it is delicious (great argument). He then hit me with a "It is better than any dessert you've ever made me" jab, saw my stunned face and followed it up with a "Wow, look at your hair, you look like Medusa (it is very humid out!)" cross, and made a final blow with a "You have awful eyebrows. I hope our kids have my eyebrows" punch that was very below the belt.
I was determined to prove Jack wrong (on ALL fronts). I grabbed my straightening iron, plucked my eyebrows, and started churning some ice cream (not at the same time, thankfully).
I tried two different versions of Dorie's ice cream. First, was Dorie's vanilla. Simple to make. Easy. Creamy. Smooth. Rich. Hints of creamy, sweet bourbon vanilla produce a smooth finish to the ice cream. Who ever knew vanilla could taste so good?
I gave Jack a taste.
"It is good, but too cold." He said through bites of ice cream.
I gritted my teeth. How could ice cream be too cold? ICE. cream.
Then I made Dorie's Mint Chocolate Chip Version, knowing Mint Chocolate Chip is his favorite flavor. Bits of intsense 70% dark chocolate studded the minty cool ice cream and was an instant favorite.
"It's not green." he observed.
No, it's all natural. I told him
"It would be better if it was green."
Apparently, this is the movie BIG and I am dating a 12-year old Tom Hanks.
I racked my brain for something that would wow him. I was an avid reader of Michael Laiskonis's, the head Pastry Chef at the famed Le Bernadin restaurant in New York City, Workbook Blog. There, he created a Cinnamon Toast Ice Cream in which he soaked wheat bread in milk overnight, strained it, squeezed out the excess milk, churned it with fancy pastry-chef things like trimoline and glucose powder, and added some cinnamon sugar to the very end of the churning process.
I used Dorie's ice cream as a base for this, and let me tell you something. I forgot to toast the bread before the soak, which I am sure would have imparted even more bread flavor into the ice cream, this ice cream is a winner. Pure culinary genius. The cinnamon-sugar adds a sweet and fragrant finish and wonderfully crunchy texture to the smooth and creamy bread ice cream. I went a step further and made a Hazelnut Coffee Ice Cream that I adapted from The Perfect Scoop.
If this didn't wow him, I don't know what would.
I set both flavors in front of him and told him that it was my version of Breakfast Ice Cream: Coffee and a Donut (I know it is cinnamon toast and not a cinnamon donut, but that is neither here nor there). He looked confused, but took a bite. He looked up at me and smiled. He then got off the couch and did his happy-when-he-likes-my-food-dance.
I win. Pistachio pudding be damned, I win.
A few notes. Jack is never that mean to me seriously, he was joking about the hair and eyebrows thing (which he does all the time with a devilish grin). Also, I didn't take any photos of the vanilla and mint chocolate chip flavors because I didn't keep the ice cream around long enough for me to pick at it over and over. But they were good. Best. Ever. Seriously.