Can geckos regrow their tails? Absolutely. (And apparently the severed limb keeps moving once disconnected!) How's Jody Sweetin doing? Much better, thank goodness. What did we do before the internet?
The other day I was thinking of one of the songs my brother and I used to sing together. It was about milk, and it was on Sesame Street. "Milk. So good. So warm and white." Seriously catchy stuff. I was curious to hear the real version and it took exactly 2 seconds of searching. You are the best, World Wide Web.
I love this video. Watch a little bit if you have a second:
I remember it so vividly from when I was tiny. The cows. The farmer. The pails of fresh milk looking all creamy and perfect. And the song. It’s so strange and a little bit scary in its 70’s-ishness. My brother and I used to sing this song often when we were together, well past any age where it actually made sense for kids to sing together.
I think about the songs my bro and I sang often. It was one of the silliest and most special things about our relationship. We made up weird songs, or took them from Sesame Street, and sang them whenever we did certain activities. We had a song we always sang before we jumped in the pool. We had a song we sang whenever we made a fort in the woods. We had a song we sang when we chased each other around the house. We did a lot of singing. And we kept singing the same strange songs into our adulthood.
The Sesame Street milk song came up a lot. We’re a dairy-loving family and we sang the song whenever someone poured a glass, or used it in a recipe, or if we were just craving something creamy. Can you imagine two (adult) siblings, living in New York City, getting together, and singing this weird song? It happened frequently. I can remember him singing it to me while I was practicing my crème anglaise while in culinary school. We were nerdy and happy. Those were the days.
A couple of weeks ago I was cleaning out my fridge and found a leftover container of mascarpone that wouldn’t make it another week. It would be crazy to let that delicious dairy go to waste. So I stopped everything and made ice cream. Gus was busy with his hot fudge and we needed something to put it on. (Well, I did. He’s a dairy-free ice cream guy these days. I like my ice cream to be really dairy-full.) As I was making the ice cream base, I couldn’t help but sing the milk song. Pouring dairy always brings it back, even though the recipe doesn’t actually have milk in it.
The ice cream turned out lovely. Extra-rich and creamy with an ever so subtle mascarpone tang. Dark chocolate chunks added a little contrast in texture and flavor, a little bitter with all that sweet. Ice cream, even in February, has its charm. It’s not warm, nor is it exactly white, but I promise you it’s good, just like the song says.
Mascarpone Ice Cream with Bittersweet Chocolate
Makes about 5 cups
1 cup milk
3/4 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup sugar
6 large egg yolks
1/4 teaspoon coarse salt
1 1/2 cups mascarpone
3 1/2 ounces bittersweet chocolate, chopped
1. In a medium saucepan, whisk together milk, cream, and sugar. Bring to a simmer.
2. In a medium bowl whisk together yolks and salt. Add warm cream mixture to yolk mixture, a little at a time, whisking continuously. Return milk mixture to the pan and cook over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until just thick enough to coat back of a spoon, about 6 to 8 minutes. It’s important not to let mixture come to a boil or it will curdle. (It's better to take the mixture off the heat too early rather than too late.)
3. Strain mixture through a fine mesh sieve into a large bowl. Whisk in mascarpone. Set bowl into a larger bowl of ice water. Stir occasionally until mixture is completely chilled and very thick. (You could also just pop it into the fridge until very cold.) Freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer’s instructions, adding chopped chocolate during the last minute. Transfer to a loaf pan, wrap well with plastic, and freeze completely. Let ice cream sit at room temperature for about 10 minutes before serving.