Bear Essentials: Ice Cream ( + Chocolate-Cinnamon Gelato with Toffee Bits )

The first sentence I wrote for this post was "Chocolate and Cinnamon want to be boyfriends, and I am all too happy to oblige."  

I didn't have a political motive for making them boyfriends.  The sentence just sounded cleaner than it would have if I'd used "boyfriend and girlfriend."  But as I looked at it I realized that it might sound opinionated, and that homophobic readers could be offended.  Then I spent some time thinking how nice it is when you find an unexpected benefit to something you were already doing.

I'm petty that way.

At this point, I had drifted reasonably far from the original point I'd been trying to make, which is that cinnamon and chocolate pair wonderfully together.

Logically-ordered storytelling is not my specialty.

Bear Essentials: Ice Cream ( + Meyer Lemon Cardamom Ice Cream )

For a long time, I thought Meyer Lemons were a thing that Martha Stewart had mostly made up.  You know, like making handmade doilies out of banana peels or raising special breeds of chickens because you have time in the morning to savor your eggs long enough to notice the tiny difference in taste between one breed's and another.  Something potentially real, but so rare or fussy or prohibitively expensive that only my gal Martha would use them to make a freaking pound cake.  I knew that I was about as likely to see them in my own grocery store as I was to see those pale blue hen's eggs.  And I was right.

Bear Essentials: Ice Cream ( + Lucky Charms Ice Cream )

If you give a bear this recipe...
She'll need to make it STAT.
She'll dig an ancient box of Lucky Charms out of the pantry,
And hunched over two bowls like some obsessive-compulsive gargoyle, 
She'll separate the marshmallows from the cereal.
And then she'll make this ice cream.
And eat.
And eat.
And eat.

Bear Essentials: Ice Cream ( + Raspberry Gelato )

Remember how I told you yesterday that I like loud flavors?

And you know how ice cream has a tendency to...soften the flavor of whatever's in it?  Sort of...dairify it?

Gelato is the magical answer to that problem.

Bear Essentials: Ice Cream ( + Pistachio Ice Cream )

I've been perfectly up-front with you about my obsession with ice cream.

It's a sweet, sweet sickness.

So what better topic to share with you in this sweltering month of July?  This week, I'll be sharing 5 exceedingly excellent recipes for frozen treats.

Bear Essentials: Rhubarb ( + Rhubarb Sorbet )

Sometimes I like to play a game where I give weird food to Mr. Bear just to see what his reaction will be.  I don't think this makes me an entirely horrible person, because he usually gets to eat dessert at the end of the game.  I'm pretty sure that if you get dessert, you can't claim it's torture.

The trick is choosing the right food, because I'm going to have to eat it too.  Squid eyeballs are out.  So is brain.  But rhubarb...rhubarb is perfect.  I bring home what (for all intents and purposes) appears to be red celery.  Then I make sorbet out of it.  And then I shove a spoonful toward my dubious husband.

"It looks like strawberry," he grimaces.  "But I know it's going to taste like celery.  You're feeding me celery ice cream."    

And the most beautiful thing about Mr. Bear is that he eats it anyway. That's love, folks.  

P.S. - It doesn't taste like celery.  It tastes like awesome.  Mr. Bear will vouch for that.

I Apologize for Your Lack of Ice Cream (+ Cherry Stracciatella Ice Cream)

They say that animals can tell when a really hard winter is coming.  Squirrels hoard acorns.  Chipmunks gather seeds.  Beavers store away…you know, whatever it is that beavers eat. 

We must have one doozy of a winter coming, because I’ve been stockpiling ice cream.

This week, while searching for a particularly elusive package of bacon, I discovered that my two freezers, combined, contain 6 pints of superpremium ice cream, four half-gallons of mediumpremium ice cream, about a quart’s worth of various homemade ice cream concoctions, and one sad quart of rainbow sherbet, about which Mr. Bear has been heard to say “All the flavors are good, but I like green the best.”  The fact that my husband thinks “green” is a flavor is so upsetting that we’re just going to move on until I can figure out how to discuss it calmly.

For those of you who are mathematically challenged (and don’t think that I didn’t have to resort to Google Measurements for this myself), that’s 26 pints of ice cream.

That’s approximately 26 POUNDS of ice cream.

That’s three babies worth of ice cream.

In the time it took you to read this, I probably ate your baby and those of both your neighbors.  Assuming they’re roughly newborn and made of ice cream, of course.  Don’t take it personally.  You just happen to make delicious offspring.  Really, you should be proud of yourself.  You could go into business.

Three Helpful Tips for Newlywed Life (+ Doughnuts with Grapefruit Curd)

It’s July now, which means that we are mired in the blackest depths of wedding season.  (That’s my take, anyway; if you like doing the YMCA in uncomfortable shoes and running interference between your second cousin and “handsy Uncle Leon,” more power to you.)  Since it’s recently been brought to my attention that I’m coming up on my first wedding anniversary, this seems a perfect time to give you soon-to-be brides a few bits of hard-earned wisdom.  There are plenty of books on marriage out there, and plenty of relatives who’d like to give you advice.  The following three matters, however, were never mentioned in any of my sources, and took me completely by surprise.  Lest you be similarly gobsmacked, consider this list my wedding gift to you. 

1.   Nobody Cares About Your Charming Personality 

                (Except Your Husband, and Even His Motives are Suspect)

From the very first second that you are legally married, everyone around you is going to take a sudden and disconcerting interest in your uterus.  If they are especially polite, elderly relatives greeting you at the reception will wait until after they tell you how lovely you look before launching into questions about your sperm-related plans.  But most won’t.

In the weeks and months following the wedding, the behavior of previously rational human beings will become increasingly worrisome.  Potential grandparents with degrees in the field of medicine will try to convince you that pregnancy will help your cramps, your skin, and possibly that ingrown toenail.  Every adult you have ever met, and some whom you have only heard of in passing, will be rooting for you to become impregnated.  This will be mildly confusing, since up to this point your entire life will have consisted of various people warning you not to become impregnated, lest your life be ruined.  Etiquette dictates that you ignore this glaring inconsistency.

The glazed and slightly manic looks on the faces around you and the constant mantra “Baaaaaby.  Baaaaaby.” are going to be unnerving.  You will grow concerned that this is the start of the zombie apocalypse, or possibly some sort of alien virus.  Your first instinct will be to discuss this with your husband, as he is, after all, your partner and helpmeet for all eternity.  Fight this impulse - not because you’re wrong, but because your new spouse probably isn’t going to take kindly to you referring to your in-laws as “the spore people.” 

Unless you actually want to become impregnated, I would suggest bribing an as-yet unattached sibling to become engaged in order to take the attention off of you.  As a long-term measure, you might want to consider adopting a wolverine or some other mostly-feral animal.  One of you may lose a limb or two, but you will develop a reputation for eccentricity that others will feel is incompatible with parenthood; with luck, they may even stop suggesting it altogether.

The Bear's Life in a Nutshell (+ Honey-Cinnamon Ice Cream)

 

It’s important to me that you understand that this isn’t what I wanted for you.  You deserve a better first blog post.   Something with drama and pathos.  And maybe some flaming llamas or something to really make it pop.  And it almost happened.  I had something super-classy prepared for you.  

But instead you’re getting this.  Because something happened this morning that was such a perfect example of what my life is like and of the sort of stuff you’re going to be exposed to on this blog…well, I felt like I’d be remiss if I didn’t just describe it and let that be a warning to you.

At nine o’clock this morning, Mr. Bear, husband extraordinaire, yelled to let me know he was ready for our morning ritual. In our home, household tasks are divided by our own personal strengths.  Since Mr. Bear is a burly sort of fellow, inexplicably fond of activities involving fresh air and cardiovascular health, he handles all responsibilities involving sweating, movement, and heavy lifting.  My duties run more towards the vital pajama- and chocolate-related tasks.