Homemade Ice Cream and Memories

 Having staggered home last evening after a long and taxing day, there was some raw meat, thawed and ready to cook that needed attention. The fact that I was tired of leftovers was the major impetus for creating something new.

Opening a fave old southern cookbook a piece of paper fell out and floated into my lap. When I read it a chill (no pun intended) ran through me.  It was a recipe I extracted from my grandmother's memories back in the 80s when I was picking her brain for any and all recipes I loved while growing up.  She was not one to write things down, nor was she one who measured everything.  She was never a baker - thank G*d!

This was a recipe for homemade ice cream that required no ice cream freezer/maker and one I remember vividly. I decided to make it and see if it held up and was as smooth as I remembered it. After a quick run to the market around the corner for a pint of heavy cream, I was ready to go.

Thirty minutes later, the mixture was in a container, freezing for a taste test later. The bowls and mixer washed and put away, I prepared my evening meal.

(Note: When I was a child the ice cream freezing process was a tedious chore, requiring lots of ice chunks, and rock salt, then hand-cranking the damned machine for about 45 minutes - see the image above. This was usually my job.)

Then a few hours later before bedtime, I tasted the ice cream and OMG, it was just as I remembered it.  Flashback to when I was a kid, sitting in front of a high speed box fan on a hot summer afternoon (we had no AC back then) savoring the smooth, creamy texture of this remarkable ice cream miracle.  Which it was, at least to me.  I thought of my tiny grandmother, hot and humid New Orleans summer days,  and special treats like this one.

I'll enjoy a dish again tonight and give thanks for little things that fall from obscurity into a lap of memory and love.

And so it goes.
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