"So, if you think about books as an extension of ourselves, we are totally about to meet."
This is how I came to know Alana Chernila, and she came to know me. Not through a chance meeting at a conference, or a sweaty run-in at the gym I keep paying for but never attend.
We met through our books. I ordered Alana's, she ordered mine, and they each arrived at our respective homes, in our respective states, on the same day. Thank you, United States Postal Service.
Alana's younger than me, this mother of two girls, a woman whose prose flows so naturally I want to drink from its tap. Never overwrought, always relatable, her stories of humble foods -- yogurt, bread, mayonnaise, granola -- will spur you to tie on an apron and get flour in your hair. You'll dream, suddenly, of making cream cheese, putting up tomatoes, rolling your own fruit leather.
Alana doesn't take herself too seriously, and for this reason, I want to hug her hard. The recipe titles in her book, The Homemade Pantry, reveal the simple truths of her life, and ours. Car Snack 1, Car Snack 2, and Car Snack 3 are three variations on cereal bars -- you'll want to make them, then hand them to your kids on routine drives to the library, the grocery store, the beach.
But, listen. If you're the type of person who doesn't let your kids snack in the car, this may not be the book for you.
Because it's all about the beautiful mess of real life -- a life where oats litter backseats, and there can never be too much strawberry ice cream.
...
Recipe for Strawberry Ice Cream
Excerpted with permission from The Homemade Pantry by Alana Chernila (Clarkson Potter, 2012)
{{from Cheryl}} I've made several recipes from Alana Chernila's The Homemade Pantry, including her granola, chai, and buttermilk ranch dressing. But her strawberry ice cream is stunning. The sugar-dusted strawberries macerate and weep their jammy juices, then get churned into a fruit-forward, creamy treat. Any left over ice cream can be whipped into a strawberry milkshake with nothing more than a blender, some milk, and a thirst for happiness.
Makes 1 quart
3 large egg yolks
3/4 cup half-and-half
1/2 cup sugar
3/4 cup heavy cream
2 pints strawberries, washed, dried, and hulled
1 teaspoon Vanilla Extract, homemade or store-bought
1⁄8 teaspoon of salt
Optional: 2 teaspoons kirsch liqueur
In a small bowl, whisk the egg yolks.
Place the half-and-half and 1/4 cup of the sugar in a medium heavy-bottomed pot. Heat it over medium heat without letting it boil, and stir occasionally until the sugar is dissolved, 5 to 8 minutes. In the meantime, set a fine-meshed sieve over a large heatproof bowl.
When the half-and-half mixture is hot, whisk a little of it into the egg yolks to warm them. Then whisk all of the warm egg yolks into the hot cream. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon or heatproof spatula as you heat the mixture over medium heat—keep scraping the bottom and stirring until the mixture thickens and you get a good coating on the spoon. Again, do not let it boil. Remove from the heat and pour through the strainer over the bowl. Add the heavy cream to the mixture and stir to combine. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes.
Put the strawberries in a large bowl and mash them a bit with a potato masher. Then add the remaining ¼ cup sugar. Let the strawberries macerate in their own juices, stirring occasionally until the sugar has melted, 10 to 15 minutes. Add the berries to the cream mixture. Then add the vanilla, salt, and kirsch, if using. Chill, covered, in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes, but up to 2 days.
Freeze according to your ice cream maker’s instructions.
