I spoke to my homeopath last month, and ended up rhapsodising on the subject of ice cream. I guess I got a little carried away, because he suddenly leaned across the table and said "This is your next career."
I laughed in his face.
Nothing daunted, he repeated "This is your calling, I'm serious. Look how passionate you are about ice cream!" Which, in itself, was a little depressing.
But really, he might be right: I can't stop thinking about it.
Today I am finishing off an experimental batch of [deep breath] Spiced Brandied Plum and Vanilla Bean. I got two bags of Italian plums from my neighbour last week, and used a pound or two to make a cinnamony, anise-scented compote, which I then pureed and chilled while I made a base custard with 5 egg yolks and 2 cups of cream. Today is churning day: whisk the two together, add a few tablespoons of St Remy VSOP, and freeze for a few hours.
I'm a bit worried - is it spicy enough? Maybe I should have infused the cream with anise, too? Did I use enough clove? It's all very fraught.
I will take a picture of the finished product to show you guys next time.
The reason for all this ice cream nonsense, and my incredible preoccupation with things like exactly how much alcohol can a custard hold without losing its body, and whether my next boozy batch should have 6 or 7 yolks instead of 5? is that Avery has been on an insulin pump for one week and it has been a traumatic transition. As my homeopath asserts, my consuming obsession with ice cream is just a manifestation of my longing for simpler times.
The pump itself is awesome. The sites are so-so. The BG numbers are HORRIBLE and I wish the docs would change things up so she is not running in the high teens all the time. But it's early days yet, and they need to get some baselines established, so.
Both my kids are terribly sick with a viral cold, and that skews the glucose too. Luckily, the kids HATE my special ice cream flavours, so at least I can congratulate myself, in that respect, for not exacerbating the problem. (It's all for me! All!!)
And, this past week was the beginning of fall and the anniversary of Sandy's death. I find myself wishing she were here again, just so she could feel sorry for us, spoil Avery (her goddaughter), and eat ice cream with me.
DARN it all, stupid cancer anyway.