Vanilla Ice Cream with Chantilly Cream and Hot Chocolate Sauce

Often when I try to fall asleep at night, I find myself thinking about this blog, about upcoming recipes or little phrases or statements that I want to remember so I can use them in my writing. Luckily, I have a handy dandy iPhone which has a voice recorder so I can just reach over on my nightstand, pick it up and record the things I want to remember without having to turn on a harsh, jarring light.

What's that I hear? Oh, it's all of laughing at me for being such so obsessive and ridiculous. Thanks guys, I appreciate it.

But here's what came to mind when I began thinking about my choice to start the next leg of this project with vanilla ice cream. It's simple, classic, and sort of a staple item in a pastry chef's reportoire, much like veal or chicken stock. It's just one of those things you should always have in your freezer to serve on the side of pretty much anything. Or, if it's this recipe, to eat all on its own. By yourself. So you can lick the bowl. But while I thought this was a good place to start, I wasn't all that excited about it. I mean, vanilla ice cream...BOOORRRING. It can only be so good; it's not like it's chocolate or anything.


Boy was I wrong.


But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start with the ingredients for the ice cream:

vanilla pods, whole milk, heavy cream, eggs, sugar

To start, I slit the vanilla pods open lengthwise with a sharp knife and scraped out the tiny vanilla seeds.

This is where all the vanilla flavor comes from

I put the vanilla pods, seeds, milk, and cream in a pot and put it on the stove to bring to a boil.

While this was heating, I put a dozen egg yolks (that's right, A DOZEN. Can you feel your cholesterol rising?) and sugar in a mixing bowl

and creamed them together, just so they were well combined. Once the milk and cream had boiled, I used a ladle to slowly add it to the egg/sugar mixture, with the mixer running on low.

Once this was completely combined, I returned the mixture to the pot and cooked it over a low heat, stirring with a wooden spoon. I continued to cook it until the mixture thickened to the point where it could coat the back of the spoon.

Once it had reached this point, I poured it through a fine sieve into a bowl and then put the bowl into a larger bowl filled with ice.

Once the custard had cooled to room temperature, I covered it and put it in the fridge to cool completely. Once it was cool, I churned it in the ice cream maker until it was creamy and semi-solid.

It was at this point that I first tasted the ice cream and immediately thought I'd died and gone to heaven because it was THAT GOOD

I put the ice cream in a tupperware and put it in the freezer to harden completely.

Later that afternoon, I made the Chantilly cream, which is just a fancy British name for whipped cream. Those Brits, always trying to be so classy. This was simple. I just whisked the cream with the sifted powdered sugar and vanilla extract until it formed stiff peaks.

before

and voila!

This went into the fridge until it was time to serve.

Right before serving I made the hot chocolate sauce. This was also really easy. I simply boiled heavy cream and then poured it over dark chocolate pieces.

before

 after

The recipe calls for chocolate that is 70% cocoa, but we only had 60% and since it looked like this outside:

we thought we would just make due.

Finally after a delicious dinner of homemade baked ziti (meaning we made both the noodles and tomato sauce from scratch. What else were we going to do on such a snowy day?), I scooped out the vanilla ice cream, topped it with some of the chocolate sauce and added the whipped, excuse me, Chantilly cream. Ideally I should have piped on the whipped cream, and I did use a plastic bag to sort of kind of maybe pipe it on, but it still ended up looking like this:

The recipe also calls for toasted slivered almonds, which would have added a nice crunchy texture, but we didn't have any. And, well:

We did without. And you know what? This was ammmaaazzzing!!! I would bathe in this if it wasn't so cold. And sticky.

It was by far, the best vanilla ice cream I've ever had. It was so creamy and rich and sweet, and just had the perfect proportion and texture. I mean, this really made vanilla ice cream into an event. Up until the point when I tasted it, I was worried that choosing this as the first recipe to make was a bad idea, because the preparation was just too simple and easy. I mean, I promised you guys more excitement and all you were getting was vanilla ice cream!? Ugh.

But really, this was soooo good. SO GOOD. It has validated not only my decision to switch gears but also to use this cookbook as a guide. Because if Clark can convince me to cheat on my all time favorite lovah, chocolate, she obviously knows her shit.

The slight bitterness from the chocolate sauce balanced out the sweetness of the ice cream, but as I ate, I started to feel that the chocolate and whipped cream were really just a distraction from the perfect vanilla ice cream, which was truly the star. My recommendation, (and how I ate this after that first night): omit the chocolate (gasp!!) and whipped cream.

Sadly, I finished off the very last remnants of the ice cream last night.

And yes, I licked the bowl.

Next Indulgence: Lemon Posset and Shortbread

A Palette Cleanser

This afternoon, I opened my desk drawer and reached into my stash of Dove chocolates for a little chocolate square wrapped up in a neat little package of tinfoil. (I know Dove isn't the best quality chocolate, but for a chocoholic like myself, it's a cheap way for me to get my fix.)

That's right, I said it. My name is Morgan, and I'm a chocoholic. Admitting you have a problem is the first step to indulgence.

When I was a first year at UVa, (that's "freshman" for all you non-pretentious readers who didn't attend Mr. Jefferson's University), I kept a big bag of hershey kisses in my nightstand. Every day, I would take one, unfirl it from its silver wrapper and pop it into my mouth. I would sit at my desk, typing away on one of my numerous English Lit papers, and press the smooth, flat side of the kiss against the roof of my mouth. I would sit there quietly and savor the moment as it melted slowly into creamy chocolatey goodness.

You see, I don't need a whole piece of chocolate cake or a dozen cookies to satisfy my sweet tooth (usually). I just need a little shot of sweetness to get me through the day.

Boy, do I sound like an addict in denial or what?

But I do firmly believe that a meal hasn't fully come to completion until you've had dessert, a trait I get from both my parents, although my dad, who often wants to order dessert after brunch, indulges more often than my mom. I actually used to measure the quality of a first date by whether or not my dinner companion would have the chutzpah to suggest dessert, since first date dining etiquette dictates that women appear to sustain on the small salad that we coyly push around with our fork. Thus, I could not order the giant piece of carrot cake that I really wanted, and ask my date to leave the two of us (that's me and the cake) alone so I could lick the icing off the plate in private. No; instead, he had to be the one to suggest sharing the creme brulee so that we could commit the ultimate couple act of sharing it, making eyes at one another across the table, licking the sugar off our lips seductively, knocking my spoon "accidentally" into his, and ugh now I'm nauseous from all the lovey doveyness. Or maybe it's the 5 pieces of chocolate I just ate.

Ok, so now that I've shared with you way too much information about my dating life, back to my Dove chocolate. If you've eaten one of these little nuggets, you'll know that each one comes with a little piece of "wisdom," sort of like a fortune cookie. Usually they're pretty pedantic and silly, but today when I opened mine up, it read "Believe in and act on your dreams." I smiled to myself and began to unfold the tinfoil wrapper further, smoothing it out as best I could. I was somewhat caught up in my reverie, thinking, how fortuitous that I would pick this fortune on today of all days, and that it was just so funny and perfect and-

then I ripped the corner off. Whoops. *Will not take this as a bad omen, will not take this as a bad omen...*

You see, it was just today that I was looking at the two pastry arts programs I'm most interested in attending. I even emailed one of the schools about setting up a private tour next month. So getting a fortune about believing in and acting on my dreams was pretty ironic. Thanks, Dove for validating my life choices!

In honor of this dream of mine to become a pastry chef, I've decided to make some changes to the blog. Yes, finally, I'm getting to my point and will stop rambling on and on about all this chocolate nonsense since don't lie, now you kind of want some m&ms. And if you didn't before, you do now.

I recently became the proud owner of Indulge, 100 Perfect Desserts by Claire Clark, pastry chef at The French Laundry. I was so excited to dive into Indulge and after suffering a minor panic attack when I thought my precious package had been stolen (since it WAS NOT delivered at 6:30 pm on Monday, like the online tracking said, but rather, was delivered the NEXT DAY sometime in the afternoon. GET A WATCH UPS MAN! AND A CALENDAR! STOP LYING TO ME), I finally settled in to read my new cookbook, cover to cover.

Ok, so that was the plan. In reality, I didn't read the book in its entirety the first night I had it, since it's rather long and I wanted to take my time and savor all the recipes. But it was the type of cookbook I couldn't wait to get home from work and read through. I would sit at my desk at work and dream about the delectable creations awaiting me on those glossy pages.

You see, when I first started this blog, I was just sort of looking for something to occupy my time and get me in the kitchen more, so I chose a chef and book that I thought I would like. But thinking more about this project, I wanted to feel more connected to the food I was making, and more challenged and pushed out of my comfort zone. I do like to cook, but pastry and desserts is where my real passion lies. They're what I really love to create, so when I came across this cookbook, I really got inspired and knew that I would need to make a change. Not only is Claire Clark the pastry chef at one of the best restaurants in the country, she is also a former instructor at Le Cordon Bleu, so who better to use as my personal tutor into the world of pastry arts?

I was a bit concerned, given that I'd already made my way through about 20 recipes in Back to Basics, and switching gears would mean getting some equipment and supplies I don't already have. Plus, considering how precise baking is, I was a little worried about my new kitchen space which can sometimes be a bit of a disaster. And of course, there is always the concern that with so many delicious sweets at my disposal, I will gain 100 pounds and look like a water buffalo. Friends and family, don't be shy. If necessary, I give you permission to yank the chocolate-covered beater from my hand and force me in front of a mirror to show me the consequences of this project. I will thank you later.

After weighing all of these risks and talking it over with some of my confidants, I just knew that cooking my way through Indulge would be such a pleasure and a challenge that I couldn't say no. Plus, I think it will make for some more interesting reading for all of you. I'll cook some dishes from Ina's cookbook every once in a while, and I'll keep you updated about how those turn out. But, for now...

First Indulgence: Vanilla Ice Cream with Chantilly Cream and Hot Chocolate Sauce

Pappa al Pomodoro

Let me preface this post by saying, I don't like tomatoes.

What Morgan? You have an aversion to some perfectly normal food?! That's so unlike you!

I know. But, oddly, I like all things made with tomatoes: salsa, ketchup, marinara sauce (granted, I do pick around the large tomato chunks), but for some reason I just hate raw tomatoes. I think it's partially their texture, and also I don't think they have a lot of flavor. And the little flavor they do have, I don't like. Hence my need to have them in a very concentrated processed form, i.e. ketchup.

Nevertheless, I was looking forward to making this soup. Soup is just something that's so relaxing. It's hot and soothing and hearty, and most soups you can just leave on the stove for a while, so they also don't involve a really labor-intensive cooking process. Plus, look what I got for Hanukkah:

My very first Le Creuset! Sooo beautiful. It lives in its box when not in use.

As I mentioned last time, I got the ingredients for this dish during my ill-fated trip to Whole Foods, so I'll of course spare you any more ranting and raving about that, since otherwise, that would be cruel. So I had all my ingredients and my awesome new cookware, and was very excited to use more of my Homemade Chicken Stock. I heated some olive oil in my beautiful new Le Creuset and added onions, carrots, fennel, and garlic, and cooked over a medium-low heat for about 10 minutes.

While the veggies were cooking, I placed the tomatoes in my food processor, and pulsed a few times until they were coarsely chopped.

I know it looks like I have eviscerated them into tomato juice, but they were still chunky, I promise.

Once the vegetables were tender, I added the cubes of bread and cooked, stirring, for another 5 minutes. The bread will gradually melt into the soup and is what thickens this mixture and gives the whole dish some heft so that we're not just eating marinara sauce out of a bowl.

Next, I poured in the tomatoes, trying to get more tomatoes in the pot than on myself or all over the stove. I also added my homemade chicken stock, red wine, basil, salt, and pepper. I increased the heat and brought the soup to a boil.

Once it was hot and bubbly, I reduced the heat and partially covered the pot, so it could simmer for another 45 minutes.

At this point, I preheated the oven and got started on the topping. I cut more ciabatta cubes and cubed the pancetta, which had been in the freezer for about 10 minutes so it would be easier to cut. I placed the bread, pancetta, and whole basil leaves on a sheet pan, and drizzled with olive oil, salt, and pepper, tossing to combine.

When the soup was about halfway done, I put the sheet pan in the oven for 25 minutes, stirring every once in a while, until all the ingredients were crisp.

 

mmm bacon-y goodness

Using a whisk, I stirred the soup, breaking up some of the larger chunks of bread that hadn't quite melted into the soup. 

The instructions say to add Parmesan cheese into the soup at this point and then serve, but since I had made such a large quantity, I added the Parmesan just to our individual servings, and then topped with the bread, pancetta, and basil. 
 

Ta Da! Don't worry, the basil is supposed to look like that, although, I'm not really sure why. The crispiness just seems so unappetizing, and I expected the leaves to taste burnt and dry, which is why I just picked around them.

The crispy pancetta was nice and salty and meaty, and gave the soup a fabulous crunch. The toasted croutons got a little softer as they soaked so they were the perfect texture when I bit into one. I served this with a grown-up version of grilled cheese: pepper jack melted on ciabbata slices, served open-faced. I really liked the heat the pepper jack gave to the meal, so next time, I would add a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes, just to give the soup a touch of spice.

For about a week, I was re-heating this soup and toasting leftover bread and pancetta to eat as an appetizer for dinner. It kept really well in the fridge and reheated perfectly.

Make this when: you get home from work on a rainy or snowy day and just want to snuggle into your bed. The ingredients are pretty simple and it only takes an hour to cook, which makes it a perfect weekday meal. Plus, you can bring the leftovers for lunch the next day.

Next Course: A palette cleanser