Life is Complicated. Lavender Ice Cream Can Help.

I admit it.  My ice cream past drips peculiarities.  One of my all time favorite flavors is cucumber. I’ve written a love letter to scoops of strawberry.  And I’ve been known to stalk the rose-flavored variety that appears at Christina’s homemade ice cream shop in the summertime.  An ice cream—no less—that a dear, thoughtful friend said tasted like “grandma” when she tried it. 

This ice cream is not like that.  I promise.  Think Meryl Streep.  Okay, that almost certainly doesn’t help; you probably need more information.  In a recent-ish movie, the lovely Ms. Streep played a pastry chef that made lavender ice cream when she couldn’t sleep.  That’s the charm of Meryl. 

And that’s the charm of this ice cream.  And the charm of a lady in Ohio called Jeni who has found a way to make homemade ice cream taste very, very good.  It's texture almost has a chew to it.  And believe me, friends, this is a wonderful thing.  

It’s a very, very wonderful thing that has caused me to repeat myself.  Repeat myself!  And then gently nudge to lower my voice. Check my enthusiasm at the freezer.  Lest we forget, the point of lavender is to relax. 

So I urge you.  If you happen to have an ice cream maker.  If you tend to get sweaty palms at the sight of ice cream, have difficulty sleeping, or experience some combination thereof.  If you take comfort in cold, sweet things.  Make this little lavender number.  Life's complicated.  It could be the best thing you do for yourself all month. Consider it aromatherapy for your stomach.  Or a sweeter version of Ambien.  I’m not going to say it’s better than Meryl.  But it’s damn near close.


Lavender Ice Cream 
Adapted from Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams At Home

Ingredients:

Berry base for coloring

1/2 cup blueberries

2 tbsp sugar

Ice cream base

2 cups whole milk

1 tbsp plus 1 tsp cornstarch

3 tbsp cream cheese, softened

Pinch kosher salt

1-1/4 cups heavy cream

2/3 cup sugar

2 tbsp light corn syrup (or brown rice syrup)

1 tbsp dried lavender buds, wrapped in cheese cloth and tied with kitchen twine

1/2 tsp orange blossom water

1 tbsp framboise

Instructions:

Bring blueberries and 2 tbsp of sugar to a boil in a small saucepan, stirring occasionally until the sugar is dissolved; remove from heat and set aside.

For the ice cream, combine 2 tbsp of the milk with the cornstarch and mix it in a small bowl until it becomes paste-like.  Then combine the cream cheese and salt in a medium bowl and mix it until smooth.  Separately, fill a large bowl with ice and add water; set aside.

Heat the remaining milk, cream, 2/3 cup sugar, corn syrup (or brown rice syrup), and the cheese cloth filled with lavender in a large saucepan and bring to a gentle boil, stirring often so that the milk does not burn; keep at this for about 4 minutes and then remove the pan from the heat and add in the cornstarch slurry.  

Return the mixture to a boil and stir until it thickens slightly (this should only take a minute or so).  Remove the pan from the heat and whisk in the cream cheese until smooth.  If any bits of cream cheese remain simply strain them out.  (Leave in the lavender.) Add the blueberry mixture and stir to combine.

To cool it down immediately, pour the mixture into a ziplock bag (or a smaller metal bowl that will fit inside your bowl filled with ice) and then chill your base in the bowl with ice water.  Then stick this all in the fridge.  (It should be cold in 30-60 minutes or so.)  Alternatively, you could stick your ice cream base directly into the fridge and chill it overnight. (You may want to take the bunch of lavender out after an hour or so if you are chilling it overnight to prevent any off flavors from coming out.)

Once the ice cream base is good and cold, strain out the blueberries (or leave them in, if you choose) and remove the lavender (if you haven't already) and pour the ice cream mixture into the bowl of a frozen ice cream maker; spin it for 20-25 minutes, until it starts to set up and get thick and creamy.  Add the orange blossom water and framboise and let it churn for about 30-60 seconds more and then stop.

Pack the ice cream in a container fit for your freezer and cover with parchment paper.

Makes about 1 quart

Notes:

- Yes, this seems like a lot of steps but it is very much worth it.  Or, you can buy a similar version straight from Jeni.

-Also, Jeni leaves in the berries, but I wanted pure lavender.  She who makes the ice cream makes the choice.

-Jeni used 2 drops of food grade lavender essential oil.  I did not have this.  I had flower buds.  So I bundled them in cheesecloth and steeped them in the milk.  It was lovely.

-Jeni, Jeni, Jeni.

Your New Roommate: Blueberry Lemon Lavender Scones

I’m quite certain I have a pox on my apartment. Someone, somewhere is trying to do me in. And since I live by myself, that someone could very well be me.

I locked myself out of my apartment for the first time in my adult life last week. Not coincidentally, I also successfully completed my first adult break-in. Things only went downhill from there.

After the breaking and entering, I nearly set my place ablaze. And yes, I freely confess that it would have been nice to have someone gently suggest that baking off a scone at midnight—after being out at bar—was not going to win me any Mensa awards: perhaps just a visit from the fellas down at Ladder 24.

I awoke six hours later with a charcoal scone souvenir and a renewed appreciation for life. Later that day, it rained in my apartment. And then later still, my key broke clean off in my entrance lock.

So why mention all this? Well, it got me thinking that the joys of living alone run parallel to the annoyances. Having carte blanche on the dinner menu is great. I can eat a version of this corn soup for three days if I feel like it. (Though this is a moot point if you can’t get into your apartment.) And while a three night dinner trilogy of corn is fine by me, making something more communal, like a cherry pie, is out of the question. I can’t leave whole pies lying around.

These scones, on the other hand, work well as a dessert to be baked especially for one. And rest assured, this recipe falls wholeheartedly into the dessert category. It is not to be shuffled into the company of the dry breakfast scone. If fact, it’s really more of a buttery biscuit studded with blueberries. Which means you can still feel good about eating it for breakfast. And since I love lavender paired with lemon in the summertime, they find themselves partnering up with the berries.

So this is the perfect let-me-squeeze-out-the-very-last-bits-of summer recipe. And if you freeze some, you’ll be very happy come the first chilly fall morning when you pop one of these in the oven.

Though, I should clarify. While this scone does a lot of things, it won’t help you break into a locked apartment, nor will it fix roofs or know how to work a fire extinguisher. But if you are in need of a little calming from the evil forces that be, it does make for a pretty good roommate.

Blueberry Lemon Lavender Scones

Adapted from Joanne Chang's Lemon-Ginger Scone recipe from Flour: Spectacular Recipes from Boston's Flour Bakery + Cafe

Ingredients:

FOR THE SCONES

2 3/4 cup flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp kosher salt

1/3 cup sugar

2 tbsp lemon zest

3/4 cup plus 2 tbsp (1 3/4 sticks) unsalted butter, cold and cut into 10 pieces

1 cup buttermilk, cold

1 egg, cold

1 tbsp dried lavender buds

3/4 cup blueberries, fresh or frozen (do not defrost)

FOR THE GLAZE

1 cup confectioners' sugar

2-3 tbsp lemon juice, freshly squeezed

1 tsp orange blossom water

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, sugar, and lemon zest in the bowl of a stand mixer and mix for 10-15 seconds on low speed with the paddle attachment. Then slowly mix in the chunks of butter on low speed. This should take about 30 seconds; you want the butter to still be visible, in about grape-sized chunks.

In a small bowl, combine buttermilk, egg and lavender and then pour it into flour mixture and beat for 20-30 seconds more or until the dough just comes together. (Be careful not to over mix.) Gently fold in the blueberries until just incorporated.

Dump the dough onto lightly floured surface and roll it out until it is 1-inch thick. Using a ~3-inch cookie cutter cut out the scones. (I couldn't find my lone cookie cutter, so I used the top of a cocktail shaker and it worked just fine.) Reroll the dough scraps and continue to cut out your scones until you've used all the dough. (You should have about 10 circles in total.)

Place them on a cookie sheet (I slightly greased mine just to be on the safe side) and bake for about 40-50 minutes or until they are a light golden color. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

While the scones are cooling, in a small bowl whisk together confectioners' sugar, lemon juice and orange blossom water to make a smooth, thick glaze that is still pourable. When the scones have cooled, brush the tops with the lemon glaze.

Makes 10 scones

Notes:

-You'll notice these scones are not glazed. The scones taste best the day they are made, but can be brought back to life by popping them in a 300 oven for a few minutes. These scones were not intended to be eaten the day they were made, but they were still worthy of a photo: hence the picture sans glaze. Don't neglect the glaze before you eat them: it brightens them up in a way words can't really describe.

-Prior to baking the scones, you can also wrap them individually in plastic wrap and store them in an airtight container in the freezer, to be baked off at a later date. They'll go directly from the freezer to the oven and the baking time will increase a good 5-10 minutes or so.

-The glaze can be made ahead of time and stored in an airtight container at room temp for up to a week.

-Warning: don't forget about these scones and let them bake in your oven overnight. (Please refer to above.) Though, kudos to the scones and to the cleanliness of my oven: we did not have any kitchen fires that evening.

When Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemon Lavender Marmalade

Life has officially mellowed into a blithe, carefree July; the summer sun has a way of bleaching your worries away. It’s probably good practice to carry a breezy July attitude with you, through all of the seasons of your life. Reactions to any problem seem less severe; maybe it’s the heat.

I’ve started to think that pretty much anything life throws at you can be confronted with one of two statements: A) Oh well. B) We’ll see. Have you burnt the roast? Oh well. Afraid you’ll spend the rest of your life alone, spoon-feeding marmalade to the clowder of cats you swore you’d never acquire? We’ll see. Turns out, you can’t plan your life ‘perfect’: it will go exactly the opposite.

This reminds me of a great quote from a Chicago Tribune column, by Mary Schmich: “Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday." How true.

In sixth grade, I unintentionally made a wreath out of poison ivy; I had to take steroids for a week until my rashy, swollen face deflated and I had something that resembled a nose again. (It was terrifying to go from sixth grader to sumo wrestler look-alike.) Then there was the time I was brought flowers from a man I loved and was dumped after dinner. Life has a wicked sense of humor. You have to make some room for the unexpected: the pleasant and the icky.

And just last week two unexpected things made my day. To start, I—completely by random occurrence—picked the right ‘day of the week’ underwear from my lingerie drawer. (Tuesday!) The very same day, a man riding a unicycle (unicycle!) literally crossed my path on the way to the gym. You never can tell when life will send you a unicyclist or wreath made of poison ivy, you just have to roll with it.

Case in point: a few weeks ago I was on the Cape with my mom; we were not having very good beach weather. We had sucked it up on yet another overcast, drizzly day and headed out to the Cape Cod Lavender Farm. I had never seen so many intensely purple plants in one space. Walking around the farm felt like an impromptu aromatherapy treatment.

We would have never known such a place existed if it wasn't for the dreary weather. Inside an old wooden shed at the farm lavender soaps, lavender chocolates and lemon lavender marmalade were for sale. I flashed to a vision of me sitting out on my porch, spreading homemade lemon lavender marmalade on toast on a lazy Saturday morning, surrounded by bushy lavender plants.

Unfortunately, buying a lavender plant to transplant back home would have been cruel to the plant and, ultimately, an exercise in futility. My back patio just does not get enough sun. Oh well. Hopefully, some day I will have a sun-drenched back porch to plant my own mini lavender farm. We’ll see. In the meantime, all I can do is buy lemons, have the good fortune to score some flowering lavender from my mother, and get down to marmalade making; all the while, doing my best to turn life’s lemons into edible aromatherapy to have with toast.

So if you find the grind a little too intense, you really have quite a number of options. A) Say oh well and get on with it. B) Take a deep-bellied breath and repeat after me: we’ll see. C) Take matters into your own hands and make lemon marmalade ASAP or D) Strap on a helmet, make sure your underwear doesn’t say Monday if it’s actually Tuesday, and head out to face the world on your unicycle.

For best results: do all of the above.

Lemon Lavender Marmalade

2 pounds of lemons (about 6, preferably organic because you will be eating the peel)

5 cups sugar

5 cups water

Pinch of salt

1.5 tbsp lavender flowers (fresh)

1 tsp vanilla extract

Thinly slice your lemons and then cut them in half. Place them into a pot and add the sugar, water and salt; bring to a boil. Let the lemon mixture sit overnight. The next day, add half your lavender and let simmer for about 2 hours, stirring occasionally. Then, bring the marmalade up to a boil and stir frequently for about another 30 minutes. Skim off any foam that forms. If you have a candy thermometer (you lucky person, you) you know the marmalade is done when it is around 220 degrees. You can also place a little marmalade on a plate and stick it in the refrigerator for a few minutes to see what the finished consistency will be: you want it to be firm, not too runny or too hard. Add the rest of the lavender and vanilla extract.

Makes about 5 cups.

Notes:

As luck would have it, I gave myself a deadline to make this recipe that happened to fall during the heat wave, when temperatures reached 100 degrees; this was a true labor of love. Maybe it was the 2 plus hours I spent boiling lemons in a non-air conditioned studio apartment, but making this marmalade was oddly cathartic.

Recipes will say you can let the marmalade sit at room temperature overnight. I am fairly certain these proper marmalade-making souls are sane enough to have the modern luxury of air conditioning. All bets are off when it's over 90 degrees; I refrigerated the marmalade overnight.

Since I despise the process of canning (maybe it's the lack of air conditioning), I just froze the extras. I can neither confirm, nor deny, that the amount of sugar used is appropriate for canning.

If you don't want to go through the trouble, you can order this marmalade straight from the Cape Cod Lavender Farm. I was not going to shell out 8 dollars for a jar.