I'm a "glass half full" sorta gal.
Every evening I stand on the piles of dirt that will one day be crawl space under the addition, and look towards the back of our tiny A-frame. I don't see exposed water pipes (the ones that froze twice last winter). I only see a space for water to flow to clawfoot bathtubs that grandchildren will take bubble baths in.
I don't see the two deep freezers and refrigerator that have been residing on what remains of the deck since the small lean-to/laundry room was torn down several months ago; driving rain and snow melting through cracks in the rubber seals, creating several inches of ice build-up. I see a butler's pantry that will hold extra food for large family gatherings.
Lately I've been on a homemade ice-cream making kick. It all started with sending an invite to all the kids to come on up for the 4th of July and we'd have a big BB-Q and in my fantasies s'more's and home-made ice-cream. I started researching recipes while the sounds of power saws and shovel blades hitting dirt rang in the air. I have become quite adept at cooking/baking with just my one large cutting board for prep space. It's almost become a personal challenge to see what magic I can concoct on two square feet of space.
Last week I ordered a small bag of einkorn wheat berries to grind up and compare to my kamut wheat. The first thing I love to do with freshly ground wheat is make hot cereal and a loaf of sandwich bread.
The sweet nutty grain flavor is unmatched and is one of my top comfort foods. Polishing off my last spoonful of cereal, I thought "graham crackers". That's what I'll make; but sourdough.
What's not to love about the combination of whole wheat, brown sugar, butter, and sourdough?
With a batch of these baked up and placed in the deep freeze. Yes. The one that resides on the deck outside. But we're glass half-full'ing over here. Now time to move on to the next (and to me the most daunting element of a home-made s'more. The marshmallow.
Years ago, Dave and I were able to stay at the Montage Resort in Park City on a "friends and family" discount. Two things about that trip have nagged at me for years. The bedding and the home-made s'mores marshmallows that were served each evening around the pool/fire-pit area. I looked into purchasing the bedding, and then decided that for around the same price we could take a trip to a foreign country; maybe even purchase a small island. The sheets would have to wait until we win the lottery. Onto the marshmallows. I googled recipes; any that ever require a candy thermometer I typically steer clear of. But how can I defile these delectable home-made graham crackers with a store-bought marshmallow?! I shan't!
Pulling out the singular drawer in our tiny kitchen, I dig for the thermometer and collect the other ingredients. I can do hard things. Well I can make soft pillowy things as long as I follow the instructions. This will not be a "measure with my heart" moment.
Dude. I just might have figured these bad boys out.
Why have I waited all these years to make them?! Seriously so simple and I am now ruined for eating a store-bought marshmallow ever again for the rest of my sweets-eating life. Large square shapes for the s'mores. Little minis for rocky-road ice-cream. If you are bothering to make home-made ice-cream, you ought not defile it with store-bought ice-cream. It's a rule I just made up.
Back to my google search. "Home-made ice-cream". All of them have varying proportions of the usual ingredients; milk, heavy cream, sugar, vanilla; and sometimes condensed milk and eggs. Some recipes have no eggs, some with a cooked egg custard base. I came across one that actually calls for raw eggs. I purchase organic free range eggs with a code on the carton for scanning; you can see the actual family farm the chickens are raised on. It all seems rather boujee. One of the perks of an empty nest I suppose. Boujee food for two.
And since I don't yet own a milk cow, I've been purchasing raw milk from the local Redmond Heritage Farm Store https://www.redmondfarms.com/
I signed to receive text notifications from the store for when their delivery of fresh milk arrives. It usually sells out same day. The demand is real for real milk.
I grew up on raw milk. Mama purchased two gallons a week from a neighbor that kept a milk cow on their acre lot. I swear it was half cream half milk. She'd vigorously shake the jug and then pour a glass of ice cold milk for us to dip our graham crackers in, and almost every meal we ate was accompanied by a glass of it as well. I have never broken a bone and only ever had two cavities. I'll never know if there is a correlation but I have my guesses. Why has our society become more fearful of raw milk (quality tested that comes from a clean dairy) than we are of half of the shelf stable items in our pantries.
My marshmallows now dipped in powdered sugar and put in a container for later use, I move on to collecting my ingredients for ice cream. Raw milk. Heavy cream. Raw eggs. Vanilla. Sugar. For my rocky road version, I melted four ounces of un-sweetened chocolate and let it cool to room temperature and also added a bit of pure almond extract.
So we'll begin by having a moment for the drizzle of sauce over this vanilla bean ice cream. Equal parts extra virgin olive oil and real maple syrup and a pinch of flaky salt, stirred together until emulsified. If you've never tried olive oil on ice cream, you should. Divine.
Topping it with a torched marshmallow, it's just all almost too much. Like Daddy always said, "Vanilla ice cream is one of the main food groups." I don't remember a day that he didn't have ice cream at least once a day. "What's the goodie?", he'd ask every evening after dinner. "Well.....there's some vanilla ice cream in the freezer and either some chocolate sauce or jam." My sweet tooth is real and also not difficult to figure out where I got it from.
After months of waiting for vendors to make our project a priority, concrete workers finally showed up a few days before the 4th to prep the under-side of the cabin to be joined up with the addition. They sawed three joists to what seemed like the point of barely hanging on. "Just don't hang out too much on that side of the room." they smiled and drove off. Oh. Okay. I texted the kids that we should cancel the BBQ, since though they are not big people individually, collectively they would weigh more than what we thought the cabin should be able to take in it's current condition.
I'm going to go get Freya and bring her out to what remains of the front deck and watch the sunset. She and I can share a bowl of vanilla bean ice cream. I see the sun setting over the beautiful Wasatch Back. I imagine she sees the sun setting from a tree branch in some distant rain forest. Our cup of ice cream is half full.
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