Breast Milk Ice Cream

This concept first entered my world in 2008 when PETA wrote a letter to Ben & Jerry's urging them to explore this untapped natural resource. Now, for Freudian fanatics everywhere, the dream has come true and is for sale. This product is from London's The Icecreamists, who when I last reported were being threatened with a lawsuit from the Sex Pistols frontman.

Chicago Blackhawks Ice Cream: Phase 2

What is Chicago Blackhawks ice cream? As far as I know, no such flavor exists outside my kitchen. Pictured is Phase 2: a sour cream strawberry ice cream with mini-Oreos, marshmallows and craisins. Each of these ingredients have a symbolic purpose to them. Allow me to explain.

As there is no right or wrong to what makes Chicago Blackhawks ice cream, I have been polling my friends for suggestions. Most have immediately jumped to thoughts of the team colors, most prominently red, black and white with accents of yellow and green. But, as some of my friends have also realized, hockey is more than team colors. Hockey is ice and pucks, hence the mini-Oreos. Hockey is blood and teeth, hence the marshmallows and craisins.

You may notice many similarities to the ingredients that were in Phase 1, but I dropped the red and green sugar crystals in Phase 2. While they played up the team colors, on this sour cream strawberry ice cream they look both childish and nauseating which is not my goal when making ice cream. I mean, I’m not running a Cold Stone here. (Zing!) On a different note, I enjoyed the rough, gritty texture of Phase 1’s chocolate cookies and cream, but team colors are still important. The red of strawberries mixed with Oreos and marshmallows is a combination I will revisit even if this flavor does not become the definitive Blackhawk ice cream.

Suggestions for Phase 3? Leave a comment.

Reasons to stay indoors

Some locals called it Snowmageddon. Others called it Snowpocalypse. I called the waist-high tunnels of frozen precipitation a reason to make hot chocolate.

Lucky for me, I had recently discovered some Perugina hot chocolate mix from my Italy trip in the back of my cupboard. For a boxed mix, this was thick, rich and fantastico. But for those of you that haven't been to Italy recently can stock up on grocery items to make your own hot chocolate. This recipe I got from a friend is exactly how I prefer it: like a thin fondue.

2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup cocoa powder
6 oz chocolate chips (semi-sweet)
1 tsp vanilla

Mix all of the ingredients together in a sauce pan over medium heat with a whisk until everything is melted together and hot. It's that simple.

Sometimes we must venture out.

It snowed again. The previous day's slush caps refroze and had their peaks dusted with white. The shape of the frozen slush reminded me of the doughnut holes my mom would fry up for us when I was growing up. Perhaps I am the only person who would look at a wintry scene and think of doughnuts covered in powdered sugar and bubbling hot oil. Regardless, these thoughts of fried dough made my morning commute warmer.

Step 4 to Becoming a Chocolate Connoisseur

One of the best ways I fill my time is volunteering at 826 CHI, a creative writing and tutoring center that publishes student work, where I tutor there once a week and teach creative writing workshops. I recently read the 826 CHI Compendium Vol. 2 (published 2010) and found inspiration: one of the creative writing workshops had its students participate in a chocolate tasting and wrote about what they found evocative. I will attempt the same, first giving my initial reaction, followed by a simile of what feeling the chocolate brought to mind.

About the chocolate: Parisian chocolatier Michel Cluizel ranks in the tops. According to his website, Cluizel is “one of the rare chocolate manufacturers to process cocoa beans.” I tried a spectrum of 9 small squares of Cruizel’s chocolate, each a different percentage of cacao. The only ingredients are cocoa, cane sugar, whole milk powder, cocoa butter and Bourbon vanilla bean.

99% - I think we all have memories of tasting the baking chocolate and how we were introduced to expectation vs. reality. The bitter hits early and has no relief of sweetness to follow.
Like getting lost on your way somewhere and when you finally get there, people are mad at you for being late.

85% - Everyone has their preference. I usually go no higher than 70% cacao. This was surprisingly nice. It reminded me of the chocolate one tastes in mole sauce with just that small touch of sweet.
Like when you’ve been playing a team sport and you get a water break; it’s enough to fight off the burning without extinguishing it.

66% - Sourced from a single plantation in Venezuela. It was the most fascinating. I didn’t enjoy the flavor at first, but then was introduced to its depths.
Like sitting in Krispy Kreme back when smoking was allowed indoors: tobacco, smoke, coffee, but with enough of a breath of sweetness to find the high worth chasing.

65% - Sourced from a single plantation in Madagascar. The beans seem naturally sweeter at the start with a brick-oven aftertaste.
Like when the water you’ve been wading in starts to feel comfortable.

64% - Sourced from a single plantation in Papa New Guinea. Bitter, rich and long-lasting. My favorite.
Like listening to your latest obsession while owning the dance floor with your s.o.

60% - With cocoa nibs. Sadly this square had bloomed—it had that chalky whiteness that indicates the cocoa butter had come to the surface. It was also more brittle. I found it odd that the chocolate would bloom since all the pieces were kept at the same temperature.
Like discovering the DVD is missing from its case after your friends have already come over for the movie night.

50% - Sourced from a single plantation in Madagascar. This was the lowest cacao percentage with any robust richness to it. Milky with bite.
Like a shy first date that ends with a knockout kiss.

47% - Sourced from a single plantation in Papa New Guinea. Delicate, sweet, appealing for its nostalgic qualities, but left me feeling empty. Also a little nutty flavor.
Like listening to a pop hit from yesteryear with today-colored lenses.

45% - I don’t think milk chocolate is his specialty, but milk chocolate also isn’t my preference. This was milky with a slight memory of malt.
Like how a carnival ride feels when your biggest crush rides with her friend instead of you.

You, too, can read the 826 CHI Compendium and their other publications. Or consider donating in support of their free in-school and after-school programming.

Pumpkin-swirl brownies with pumpkin chocolate chip ice cream

Chicago Blackhawks Ice Cream: Phase 1

Last April, my brother spent four nights in Chicago with an elaborate sporting event itinerary for us both. We spent a cold evening in the bleachers at Wrigley, watching the first night game of the Cubs season. We watched the Bulls play the Cavs in the first round of the NBA playoffs; anti-LeBron chants were in the air, while everyone prayed under their breaths that Mr. James would sign with the Bulls for 2010-2011. But by far the most memorable event was Round 1, Game 5 of the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

Having been raised in Virginia, I hadn't seen much hockey growing up. My only memories were of a friend who went to see the Hampton Roads Admirals play at Scope because she liked watching the fights. As a lanky and timid kid who was frequently (a) scared and embarrassed in gym class, (b) confused by everyone's obsession with football and (c) told by coaches that I needed to be more aggressive, her summation of the sport didn't exactly prompt me to ask if I could tag along with her. (She later went on to become an NRA enthusiast, I believe.) So when my brother inquired before his trip how interested I would be in going to a Blackhawks game, I answered I would happily go because he wanted to, hoping that both his enthusiasm and explanation of the sport would make it interesting for me. What I got was the most incredible sporting event I have ever personally attended.

Round 1, Game 5 against the Nashville Predators was an important home game. The best-of-7 series was split 2-2, meaning if the Blackhawks lost Game 5, the Predators would be playing Game 6 to win the series at their home rink. And it looked like that less-than-desirous outcome might just be in the Blackhawks future...until just under 14 seconds before the end of the final period.

In other sports, when the game is near its end and one team is losing, the only option is to "play harder." While teams have many times persevered with this hollow strategy, it's nothing compared to the competitive edge that is offered in hockey. In the final minute or two of hockey, when a team is behind they will often pull their goalie in order to put another offensive player on the ice. While this can backfire, it certainly did not when Patrick Kane scored the game-tying goal with 13.6 seconds left. The crowd "Da da-da-da da-da-da"ed loud enough that I believe more than one honky-tonk in Nashville erupted into flames. The game went into overtime and the Blackhawks scored again, effectively winning Game 5.

I instantly became a Blackhawks fan. I watched as many of the remaining playoff games as possible for a guy who doesn't get any channels on his TV and loiters in sports bars without buying anything . And while I have never had the privilege of eating ice cream from the Stanley Cup, I decided to create a Chicago Blackhawks ice cream. Pictured is Phase 1: chocolate cookies and cream with marshmallows, craisins, and red and green sugar crystals. While tasty, this flavor did not accomplish what I hoped it would. I'll explain more when I write about Phase 2...

Ice cream is a beloved thing.

A while back, I wrote that based on findings in my research "Ice cream is not punk." This was not the only disturbing discovery in my research: artists from other genres also said slanderous things about my favorite topic.

Gandhi said that we should be the chump we wish to see in the world. Finally, I have done just that. I just released a short collection of fun songs for FREE download entitled Robot Monkey Reindeer Clown. These are songs I've written for prompts and assignments, both professional and theatrical. You can hear my shout-out to ice-to-the-cream if you listen carefully (especially you, ladies) to the lyrics of "Welcome to Musical Storytime!"

Though it may not be an album full of love letters to my frozen delight, it is a point for our side. Go team.

They're Called Idiots.

Some people don't think it makes sense to eat ice cream in the winter.

Toft's Ice Cream

I knew my stomach would start growling once we hit the Ohio Turnpike. The lunch I had back in Virginia would be a distant memory and Christmas cookies and clementines would not be enough fuel for 12 hours on the road. Naturally, I had a plan. If my anatomy were the solar system, my stomach would be the sun.

We stopped in Sandusky, a town introduced to me by my friends Candice and Logan during our Thanksgiving carpool to Virginia. Sandusky is the proverbial last outpost of Southern sprawl, possessing comfort food chains Lee's Famous Chicken and Cracker Barrel that are far more popular below the Mason-Dixon line. Recharged with chicken and biscuits, we were ready for the last 5 hours. But first we had one more stop.

Pictured is the "small" cone at Toft's. Having had their "small" once before, I knew to order a two piece at Lee's instead of a three piece. This regional dairy's dipping parlor offers dozens of flavor options, so stopping on each of my drives home seems mandatory. Here are some of the flavors I've enjoyed:

• Orange Pineapple, orange ice cream with pineapple. (pictured, top)
• Wedding Cake, white cake batter ice cream with red raspberry filling and cake pieces.
• Graham Central Station, graham cracker ice cream with chocolate covered toffee and graham crackers. (pictured, bottom)
• Bullpen Chocolate, a rich chocolate cookies and cream with a fudge ripple.

Ben & Jerry's Snickerdoodle

Of the seasons' many gifts, love is second only to Christmas cookies. This winter season has also brought a new Dominick's grocery store in my neighborhood, and with it a variety of new ice cream options not previously available at Jewel. This includes flavors that have been ever-elusive (Haagen-Dazs Midnight Cookies and Cream and Ciao Bella's Blood Orange Sorbetto) but also Ben & Jerry's Snickerdoodle, which embraces the Christmas cookie spirit.

Ben & Jerry's came to the long overdue realization this year with their flavor Milk & Cookies that cookies can exist in ice cream fully-cooked, not simply its larval form. Cookie dough, while a good flavor in and out of ice cream, is cooked for a reason. Ben & Jerry's have done it once again with Snickerdoodle, mixing in the cinnamon sugar cookies with the cutesy-wootsy name in a buttery cinnamon and sweet cream ice cream. The flavor is only available for a Limited Time, so try it now if you can shop at places that aren't Jewel.

Somewhere David Lynch is smiling.

I knew I was in for a long night when the opening band didn’t start until after the hour headliners usually wrap it up. My best friend’s band had scored their biggest gig yet opening for Arcade Fire. I’d never been to the venue before and being that it was too small for a group like Arcade Fire—a sort of snubbed nose gymnasium with retractable wooden stadium seating and a balcony, but too small for a basketball court—gobs of people were everywhere. Magically, though, an area seemed to clear everywhere I went, even when I was pogoing on the center floor to James’ music in the brightly lit auditorium. It was then I noticed that a singer for his now sizable back-up band, which previously had fluctuated from two to three and back again, was another friend, John Thomas. Pretty strange since they live on opposite coasts; I hadn’t even been aware that he and James stayed in touch. But there he was, contributing to every song of the set, which other than the opener was entirely new material that focused on the full band sound.

It wasn’t until the after party that I came face to face with John. We were two quiet moths in a swarm of loud partiers when John took a seat across from me and I noticed that he looked like an amalgamation of his younger selves, like a 90-pound weakling college freshman with an 8^th grade haircut. I called his name across the modest dining table, but the words must have flown out the darkened window before they could make it to his ear. My facial expressions insisted on eye contact until he confusingly responded to my persistent calls of his name. He said he wasn’t John. I got mad.

These are just early glimpses of one of my rare all-nighters. I made appearances at numerous parties crowded with people, who strangely were all younger than me. It ended serenely at the purple hour of dawn where, taking in the stillness of the moment, I stood outside a crab shack with budding feelings of new love—someone I knew from high school drama club with whom I had recently reconnected on Facebook (though admittedly she’d never crossed my mind between friending her and running into each other that night, just as she’d never crossed my mind between curtain call senior year and seeing her name in my Friend Requests). We stood on a thin strip of land between two bodies of water—specifically an isthmus, though I didn’t know this at the time—marveling that we now occupied the space between day and night: one direction showed the clear horizon changing color, while the cloud covered sky overhead only got darker until far away in the other direction, somewhere, it was still midnight.

But my Glass family ramblings haven’t just gotten me off-topic, it has missed the focus completely. Somewhere between confronting John Thomas’ doppelganger and the purple dawn I stopped in at an all-night backroad ice cream shoppe. I asked the owner what flavors he still had in stock. He named a litany of old standards, but one stood out as strange. “Douglas Fir?” “Douglas Fir.”

The Pacific Northwest is full of weird places, but they are far surpassed by the dream world. I mean, as far as dessert goes, how do you figure choosing conifer trees over deciduous?