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#this color combo reminds me of mint chocolate chip ice cream
hiddencircus · 3 months
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⋆。🧸(BIG BEAR) MIKA TWITTER BANNERS! 𖦹* ˚. | requested by @akechizzz
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snowedinpodcast · 3 years
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Long time no chat, friends! Transcript below the cut, as usual
Backstreets: Ice Cream ’Speriment [Transcript]
[ Note: there are intermittent wind sounds throughout this recording ] 
So, I have two cute anecdotes I wanted to bring out just for you. One of them is my ice cream experiment. Yuki, what is your ice cream experiment? Well! I go through phases of favorite ice cream flavor. I think last year it was mostly … mint chocolate chip but not, not just any mint chocolate chip, specifically the one that has green coloring in the, in the ice cream part. If it’s white with the black chips, no. If it’s green with the black chips, good [laughs]. I have strong feelings about the aesthetics of my ice cream, ok? Deal with it. 
But lately, I have, I have shifted. I have gone into a new phase of my ice cream life … and that new phase is dominated by the vanilla-chocolate combo because it reminds me of those ice cream sundae cups that they used to give us at Lextended Day, woohoo—the, uh, the elementary school after-school program in Lexington, Massachusetts. These sundae cups were like paper cup—the sort of thing you get shaved ice, er, shaved lemon ice in, like, y’know what I mean, those little paper cups—and they were filled like three-quarters of the way up with rock-solid ice cream ... that was exactly, perfectly cut down the middle. And on the left side, there was chocolate, and on the right side, there was vanilla. Well, I guess it could be left or right, it doesn’t matter ‘cause you can swivel the cup and— … right. 
Anyway, the way that I would always eat that is that I would … I would strategically scoop out the ice cream so that I had a little bit of chocolate and a little bit of vanilla at the same time in each spoonful. Or I would just blend the whole thing together into a chaotic mess that ended up being mostly chocolate flavored because chocolate is a stronger flavor than vanilla. So if you want something that is more of an actual even mix between chocolate flavor and vanilla flavor, you need to do, like, two parts vanilla to one part chocolate. At least, in my experience, alright? I guess it depends on the, on how much vanilla frickin’ extract you put into that ice cream. 
So, in light of this, in light of this nostalgic flavor flashback I’m—my mouth is having, great, I’ve been getting chocolate and vanilla ice cream from the Cellar, which is the lil pizza joint place [at the University of Puget Sound] that’s student-run. It’s great. Here is the experiment part: because of my specific vanilla-to-chocolate ratio whatever, this works out best when I can eat some of the chocolate beforehand, just like straight chocolate by itself, and then when I have two parts vanilla to one part chocolate, I can stir them together … and then have a good time. So this works out best if the person who scoops the ice cream for me puts the vanilla scoop on the bottom and the chocolate scoop on top of that, ‘cause then I can just easily access and eat half of the chocolate scoop before I then stir everything up. 
So I’ve decided that I’m going to test to see if I can influence the order in which the people who work at the Cellar … scoop the ice cream for me based on what I tell them with my order. ‘Cause I have a theory, and the theory is, if I say I want half-and-half vanilla and chocolate in this cup, uh, size small please, ‘cause obviously I bring my own cup ‘cause I’m a good environmentalist [laughs and taps plastic cup three times]. Love this cup. It’s not even a cup, it’s like one of those—it’s one of those microwavable containers that comes with a spoon that splits in half that you can, like, click together. Yeah, I dunno, I think it’s meant for, like, [three more taps] cooking an egg in if you want to have a quick breakfast. Like, you just crack an egg in it, stick it in the microwave for fifteen seconds, and then you can eat it with your spoon on the way to work—I dunno. Point being, my theory is that by asking for vanilla and chocolate I will get the vanilla on the bottom and then the chocolate on top of it, as opposed to asking for chocolate and vanilla in which case I think I would get chocolate on the bottom and the vanilla on top. Because the flavor that you say first is the flavor that the person will, will immediately go to scoop. You know, y’know what I mean? This makes sense to me, ok? Follow with me. Follow me. 
So, the past two or three times—I’m not, like, making a chart or anything for this, I don’t care that much, I’m just kind of taking note of the data as it happens to come … to come to me to remember to remember it. Whatever. The past couple times I have said vanilla and chocolate and this has worked to my advantage. I have gotten vanilla on the bottom. This time I asked for vanilla and chocolate, as usual, and I got chocolate on the bottom so I had to stir my ice cream a little teeny bit just to get the chocolate layer mostly on the bottom. That’s it, that’s the story. That’s the chocolate-vanilla ice cream debacle. 
Here’s the second ane- … anecdote, and that is, I can’t remember what TV show or book or movie or what I got the phrase “I dunno how to act right” from, but it’s—there’s a specific way that I remember that line in my brain. And it is “I dunno how to act right” [beginning at a higher pitch at the start and sliding to a lower pitch by the end]. Now that I think about it, that might be something a Youtuber did, so it could be a Youtube video. There’s no way for me to search this … I don’t think. So I was trying really hard to remember what type of media and possibly who coined that specific way of saying that phrase because I like it so much and I repeat it so often … and as I was thinking that over, I realized how much sadder that phrase can get if you interpret it literally. 
‘Cause the joke is, like, [in a rounded, whiny, low voice] “oh, why am I like this, why am I full of anxiety, wuh, ugh, I dunno how to act right.” It’s like oh, LOL, y’know, like we all don’t know how to act right in certain capacities and it’s very easy to get frustrated inside your own mind. But y’know what, we all manage to work it out. Part of being human is that you don’t have a guidebook that explains to you how being a person should work. And so, like y’know, we all don’t really know how to act right but you do your best and you learn from your mistakes. Like that’s kind of—that’s the way I usually mean it when I say [same whiny tone] “oh, I dunno how to act right,” ‘cause it’s not an excuse to be [REDACTED]. There’s no excuse to be [REDACTED]. You do your best and you try better next time. [whispered] Try better next time … [regular voice] whatever, you get what I mean. 
But if you analyze this sentence for all it’s worth … if you separate the parts and look at them individually … I don’t know how to ACT right. Right meaning correct, assuming that there’s some standard that humans are forced to meet in order for them to be correct and worthy and ideal … which is sad. [Sigh]. And act … act as in carry out OR act as in put on a facade and then do, like acting in a theater, right, like you’re putting on a different character’s brain and being them. 
So one could see the, the phrase “I dunno how to act right” as a literal … like, call for help. It’s saying I don’t know how to even be a person at all and it is really, really difficult for me to navigate this. I don’t know how to act right, can someone teach me how to fit this mold of what I’m supposed to be as a human? I’m very lost and … I feel like I’m not doing it right. 
Which is super sad! Like, there is no doing human right, like—or maybe there is, and that is doing your best and not hurting people, and apologizing and trying to understand what you did wrong when it happens. And also standing up for yourself when you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just trying to navigate not hurting people and also having a good time. That’s what being a person is. So, no, there is no correct way to act. I mean, I guess you could argue that just trying your best and listening to people is the correct way to act. But I dunno, I dunno, those are my thoughts. 
Anyway, it’s cold and I wanna eat my goddamn ice cream, so … thanks for listening to me talk. If you can’t tell, my voice is getting a little bit short and stuffy, which is what tends to happen when I’m about to get a cold! Let’s hope that’s not happening. Ahhhhhh—
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cucinacarmela-blog · 6 years
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Upgraded Grasshopper Pie: The Mint Chocolate Desse...
New Post has been published on http://cucinacarmela.com/upgraded-grasshopper-pie-the-mint-chocolate-desse/
Upgraded Grasshopper Pie: The Mint Chocolate Desse...
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[Photographs: Vicky Wasik]
I’m not ashamed to admit that my earliest pastry attempts all came out of a box. Most of the recipes required only a mixing bowl and no parental supervision, leaving an eight-year-old me free to explore independence through Jell-O and Cool Whip. I’d layer Nabisco chocolate wafers liberally with whipped topping for towering icebox cakes and lavishly stud gelatin molds with canned fruit cocktail. My favorite of these forays into culinary autonomy was the grasshopper pie, a dish that let me recklessly smash cookies into oblivion and use the “high power” button on the microwave.
The grasshopper pie was inspired by the grasshopper cocktail of the 1920s, a saccharine combo of crème de menthe, crème de cacao, and cream. That trio goes one step further in this pie, where it’s folded into melted marshmallows and poured into a chocolate-cookie crust. It fit right in with the quick-and-easy recipes of the 1950s, a time marked by chiffon pie and pudding mix in all forms.
Even though I’m allowed to use the stove now, I still feel a lot of love for the grasshopper pie, a powerful reminder of the magic of transforming a hodgepodge of raw ingredients into something new—and especially the glory of turning cookies into pie crust. For my frozen version, I keep the Oreos but skip the melted marshmallows, swapping them out for the fluff of whipped whole eggs. My recipe still includes a healthy pour of booze, but I opt for the bitter edge of amaro over the cloying sweetness of chocolate and mint liqueurs. And it’s all topped with a rich cocoa nib fudge, filled with crunchy shards and deep chocolate flavor. The finished product still looks like the minty-green pie of my youth, but it tastes all grown-up.
I start by crushing Oreos into fine crumbs in a food processor and combining them with melted butter and cream. The addition of cream gives the crust a chewy bite, ideal for a frozen pie. I press the crumb mixture into a deep-dish pie plate, evenly covering the bottom and sides.
Over a water bath, I gently warm a mixture of eggs, sugar, salt, and Fernet Branca until it reaches 165°F (74°C). Fernet Branca is a bitter and aromatic spirit that’s often associated with hipsters and mustachioed bartenders, but don’t let that discourage you from trying it in dessert. Its herbaceous qualities are reminiscent of menthol, making it a perfect match for chocolate, while the bitterness balances the sweetness of the pie.
Heating the eggs not only pasteurizes them, but also primes them for whipping into a thick, dense foam by uncoiling their proteins. Once the egg mixture is gently heated, I whip it on high in a stand mixer until it’s pale, thick, and doubled in volume.
To this egg fluff, I add a speck of mint extract and green food coloring, both of which can be touchy ingredients, depending on whom you’re talking to. One of our former editors, Max Falkowitz, is firmly anti-extract. His ultimate mint chip ice cream steeps cream with fresh mint instead, for subtler flavor and color. Meanwhile, I’m stubbornly convinced that green foods taste mintier and I strongly prefer the direct punch of extract—I like my mint desserts to be felt in my nostrils before they touch my taste buds. Plus, much of the fresh mint available at grocery stores is spearmint, while the extract used in desserts is usually from peppermint, which contains much more menthol. Mint extract reminds me of Thin Mints, Andes, and candy canes, but if the only memories it awakens in you are of toothpaste, then take a cue from Max and steep fresh mint leaves in hot cream for two hours (and strain and chill overnight) before making this pie.
I transfer the egg fluff into a large, wide mixing bowl and fold in softly whipped cream. Next, I drizzle thin threads of melted chocolate across the surface and set it in the refrigerator. Once the chocolate has hardened, I crack and fold the threads into the mousse, repeating until it’s completely streaked, before pouring it into the cookie crust. These wisps of chocolate add crunch to the mousse and quickly melt in your mouth, unlike chips or chunks, which can feel chalky when frozen.
While the pie freezes, I prepare the cocoa nib fudge. Most fudge sauces are made with an invert sugar syrup, such as corn syrup, which retains moisture and prevents crystallization for a sticky and smooth sauce. Unfortunately, invert sugars are also much sweeter than regular granulated sugar, so chocolate flavor can get buried beneath them. Instead, I start with a caramel. Adding heat to sucrose (granulated sugar) breaks it down into glucose and fructose (invert sugar), giving you the texture you’re looking for while also cutting the sweetness through browning, for the deepest-tasting fudge sauce.
To make the caramel, I start by heating sugar and water in a small covered saucepot until the sugar has dissolved into a syrup. Keeping the lid on allows condensation to wash the sides of the pot, preventing crystallization. I’ve also found that sticking to tall, narrow pots, and thus reducing the sugar’s surface area, helps inhibit crystallization during these fussy early stages of thermal decomposition. Once the sugar is dissolved, I uncover the pot, cook until the syrup becomes a dark brown caramel, and stir in the cocoa nibs. I pour the cocoa nib brittle onto a Silpat and set it aside to harden and fully cool. Next, I process the brittle in a food processor until it’s mostly ground—leaving some chunks behind adds a fun texture—and blend it with molasses, oil, vanilla, and salt before slowly drizzling in heavy cream. The resulting fudge will need to chill for about an hour to thicken into a pipeable consistency.
I finish the pie by piping cocoa nib fudge in a crisscrossed pattern along the surface with a plain #17 pastry tip (a smaller tip will become clogged by the chunks of cocoa nib). Alternatively, you can serve slices with dollops of the fudge on the side. A whipped cream border and an extra drizzle of melted chocolate add a finishing touch, but you can leave it completely unadorned as well. It’s the perfect nostalgic treat to remind myself how far I’ve come, so the next time I’m stressing over not perfectly tempering chocolate, at least I can say, “Look, Ma—no Jell-O!”
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