Mars

Hi, The point (if there is a point) of this blog is to post liner notes and playlists of mix CDs originating from moi and hopefully fanning out into a chain of mix CDs. If you get a CD from me, make me and a friend one, and email me some liner notes and I'll post them. Then your friend should make you and someone else a mix CD etc etc. Maybe it will work PS If you want to be on my knit list, let me know what you want and I'll see what I can do!

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Son of Cooking Club

I have to say, Mykull and I have not been too brilliant at keeping up with our Cooking Club, but we finally made something! We decided to make Honey and Lavender Ice Cream.

We made it with honey that Mykull made from his butt. Actually, it came from a beehive under his house that the bee keeper who took the hive away extracted for us. It's really fragrant and delicious, and so we wanted something that would showcase it.

As in our previous forays into home-made ice cream, it was a three day process. It didn't actually take very long to make, but you have to let the ice cream mixture get really, really cold before bunging it in the ice cream maker, and then you should let the ice cream ripen in the freezer once you're all done. We started on Saturday about forty minutes before going to see 'An Inconvenient Truth', which, as Minty says, is a must see. And you have to go see it because Al told us to tell everyone we know to see it, and it's thought provoking, and entertaining and kind of inspiring at the end. Though I felt a bit guilty because the Carolina Theater had the AC cranked way up.

Anyway, back to the ice cream, which I mentioned to Mykull on the way back, is a total energy sink - heating up stuff that's cold from the refrigerator, chilling it again, then freezing it. We infused the cream with the dried lavender flowers, which kind of smell like old ladies panties, for half an hour. Then we beat the eggs and honey together and gradually added the warm cream, and made a kind of hurried and mildly scrambled custard before going to the movie.

We let the mixture chill overnight. It looked kind of gross to be honest, but smelled fabulous. Then on Sunday, I emptied out my cupboards to find all the fiddly bits of the ice cream maker, and we bunged in the mixture, and in the time it took to drink a beer, it was ready!

We put it in the freezer to ripen, and on Monday, we ate it. It was awesome, I have to say, and much better than our previous foray into ice cream (which I can't believe I didn't blog about, because it was v-e-r-y involved). I think the pinch of salt and the extreme sweetness are the key. Doing all that waiting around is totally worth it too, because it was really smoove - like Haagen-Daaz.

6 Comments:

At 10:02 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

The ice cream sounded pretty good until you got to the part about the old ladies' panties. Then it sounded great.

 
At 5:31 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wait, are you serious that you got the honey from under Mykull's porch? Cause that's super cool. Does the ice cream have bits of beeswax in it?

Marianne: I love the word "bunged" to mean something like "threw," cause it sounds dirty. (See, Jerry? My dirty mind is not picking on you!)

 
At 7:07 AM, Blogger Marianne said...

Now I know what to get Jerry for his birthday.

Lastew, I have a great appreciation for the creative dirty mind. Boring movies, church, endless meetings are all more enjoyable with a soupcon of innuendo. And we really did get the honey from under Mykull's porch - it's clover, honeysuckle and privet.

 
At 7:17 AM, Blogger pinky pinkerson said...

lavender does smell like an old lady's panty drawer. I agree. it's those sachets and pomanders and things.

However, that ice cream sounds utterly fabulous. the lavender doesn't make it seem soapy, does it?

 
At 8:20 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

WE WANT OUR HONEY BACK MOTHERFUCKERZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

 
At 10:41 AM, Blogger J said...

wait, the honey didn't come from my butt? what was that you got from my butt then? oh yeah, old ladies' panties.

 

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