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elfsTwo weekends ago, on a lark and with a conveniently timed and remarkably tax-deductible purchase of an ice-cream maker, I made mint-chip ice cream. The ice cream was made by slow-cooking light cream with a ton of hand-picked mint leaves in it, adding sugar afterward, and then freezing the mess in the ice cream maker. As the liquid was added, I also added "scribbles" of bulk dark chocolate freshly melted in a double boiler.
As I'm allowed all manner of illicit foods on the weekends, I'm enjoying the last of that batch tonight, and I have to say that the taste is utterly unlike anything you've ever bought in a supermarket. The mint is real mint, without many of the additional greenish flavors steamed out of commercially grown mint by megasaur-ready espresso machines. The chocolate is high-end, and shatters into tiny chips, broken and tossed about in a glorious mess, mixed not in "ribbons" but in tiny chips that dissolve on the tongue and announce themselves as impressive exclamation points scattered in paragraphs of cream and mint.
It is impossible, of course, to communicate the wonderfulness of a food through the medium of the Internet. I can only recommend that you try making this stuff yourself, because it's wonderful in ways that you'll never experience otherwise.
I will say this: after two weeks, it tastes a little more like store-bought than it did when I made it. I think the mint just fades over time, and what you get in the store is what's left after the light oils have completely sublimated out of even the best-sealed pint.
As I'm allowed all manner of illicit foods on the weekends, I'm enjoying the last of that batch tonight, and I have to say that the taste is utterly unlike anything you've ever bought in a supermarket. The mint is real mint, without many of the additional greenish flavors steamed out of commercially grown mint by megasaur-ready espresso machines. The chocolate is high-end, and shatters into tiny chips, broken and tossed about in a glorious mess, mixed not in "ribbons" but in tiny chips that dissolve on the tongue and announce themselves as impressive exclamation points scattered in paragraphs of cream and mint.
It is impossible, of course, to communicate the wonderfulness of a food through the medium of the Internet. I can only recommend that you try making this stuff yourself, because it's wonderful in ways that you'll never experience otherwise.
I will say this: after two weeks, it tastes a little more like store-bought than it did when I made it. I think the mint just fades over time, and what you get in the store is what's left after the light oils have completely sublimated out of even the best-sealed pint.
