How do you make homemade ice cream without an ice cream maker? Oh, there are all kinds of ice cream makers–from those plastic balls you fill with salt and ice and shake, to electric ones that sit in your freezer and churn the ice cream while your freezer freezes it, up to expensive countertop machines that freeze and churn all at once. But I have none of those.
I had a little whipping cream left over from the cheesecake and nothing to use it for, and I thought…”suppose I just added a little sugar and vanilla extract, put it in the freezer in a stainless steel bowl, and stirred it at intervals–like, every five minutes?” So I tried that.
It worked perfectly. I made ice cream! With a whisk, a bowl and my freezer! It’s a bit of a pain to jump up and stir the stuff every five minutes, but for home made ice cream–it’s worth it! The recipe does need some tweaking, though. Oddly enough, pure whipping cream doesn’t make the best ice cream in the world. But it’s tasty!
As for the minor rant–this has been on my mind for a while, but was re-triggered when I read yet another awards banquet menu this evening.
Why is it that restaurants always seem to assume that “vegetarian” means “carbo load?”
I’m a vegetarian because I love vegetables. I mean, really, truly, love them. I eat more vegetables, by weight and volume, than any other food group most days. I love steamed veggies, sauteed veggies, raw veggies, roasted veggies, any kind of veggie (except, ew, eggplant). I think broccoli is ambrosia. I eat broccoli by the crate. I can’t imagine having “too much zucchini.” I love zucchini. The last time I grew summer squash, I ate every squash my garden could produce and wished there were more. I eat salad without dressing–I don’t think salad greens need any!
I could go on, but I’ve made my point! Now, conversely–like most vegetarians, I’m into generally healthy eating, and that means whole grains. I don’t voluntarily eat pasta–not even whole wheat pasta. It’s not that I don’t like it. Actually, I do. But it bogs my system down and makes me gain weight, which is one of the best clues my body gives me that I shouldn’t eat something. I don’t eat pizza. I don’t eat white rice. Again–not that I don’t like them (although white rice is pretty boring). They don’t like me. And I’d rather have veggies!
And yet, over and over, when I’ve requested or been offered the sole “vegetarian” (really just “meatless”) option from a limited, banquet-type menu, it’s been things like: a couple of pieces of mushroom, onion and zucchini swimming in tomato sauce on top of four pounds of pasta. Or, a “stir fry” that consisted of a few vegetables in a pint of soupy liquid on top of a huge bowl of white rice. The menu I looked at tonight offered as its sole non-meat choice: mushroom lasagna. And this is typical. Cooks don’t seem to know what to do with people who’d rather throw away the entree and eat the lettuce it was served on. Chefs, hotels and restaurants have trouble believing that people who ask for a “vegetarian option” want fucking VEGETABLES, damn it, and no more refined carbs than the people with the steak or chicken are confronted with.
That is all. I just needed to get that off my chest. *sigh*