One of my favorite past times is to eat potato chips while watching a movie. Seems like a simple idea but it gets complicated really quickly. It always requires for me to inevitably turn up the volume up REALLY loudly because the crunchy sound from the potato chips interrupts the movie (I can’t hear!) and then I have to rewind and re-watch some parts.
This is sort of a better idea, combining dessert with snack time, resulting in an ice cream sandwich that is chocolate-y, crunchy, caramel-y and overall super awesome. The one downfall? Ice cream sandwiches get melty and messy; life is full of challenges!
For this post I teamed up with Kettle Brand Chips (my all-time favorite is the Sea Salt & Vinegar) to bring you this fun, summer-filled recipe. The cookies are soft and chewy; the perfect cookie for ice cream sandwiches. If the cookies are crunchy or hard the ice cream will spill out the sides—not ideal!
Crushed potato chips are folded into the batter, chocolate is melted on top and then more pulverized potato chips are sprinkled on top of the chocolate, almost like how you would do with sea salt.
It was the day before Valentine’s day and I was contemplating what I should make for Josh as a present. I settled on doughnut ice cream and was taking Amelia for her right-before-evening walk. I started contemplating the execution: soaking the doughnuts, infusing them in the milk vs. pureeing them in a blender with the milk and cream and then straining them.
We walk past the elementary school and out walks Sebastian. He’s six-ish, wearing a backpack that’s filled with way too many books, making it practically the size of him. He waves at Amelia and she immediately starts shaking her body with excitement like she’s doing The Twist. Sebastian asks if he can walk her to the corner and I say ok. We start to walk and he begins to tell me how he loves corgis and how they’re The Queen’s dog.
He then asks if he can run and have her chase him in the field attached to the school. I say ok again and let her off the leash. He bolts down the field, she takes off, trying her hardest to catch up. They both run in the street and almost give me a heart attack, which makes me scream at both of them, asking if they’re lunatics. They come back and my stomach reenters my body. They run back and forth back and forth. Staring at their young energy makes me feel old, it makes me wish I was the one who was running, which is absurd because it could be. All I’d have to do is just run.
Sebastian falls to the grass and Amelia starts licking his face and he’s laughing and saying ew and laughing some more until finally Amelia stops and lays next to him. The sun is setting in this way only Los Angeles can set a sun. Hues of pink and blue and coral shoot out from the horizon making me contemplate God and nature and everything I say I don’t believe in. It’s transcendent.
I sit in the grass with them and listen while Sebastian tells me a confusing story, the way six-year-olds tell stories. I listen and nod and smile and listen some more and say to myself this is what good is. Sebastian’s brother calls him and they head home. Amelia and I walk off in the opposite direction to finish our walk.
And then I come home and make some of the best ice cream I’ve ever made.
All I want to talk about right now is Beyonce’s new haircut. Did you see this? I’m not sure how I feel about it. Actually, I know. I don’t like it. I just don’t. I like old Beyonce. What was wrong with old Beyonce?!?!? I also don’t like change. Like, I’ll probably never use Instagram video, ever.
Anyway, I had to get that out of the way. Now I’m going to gush all about this roasted plum ice cream and how obsessed I am. I had serious plum-plans for some super fancy Santa Rosa plums that promised the world. They still had leaves attached and were still dusty … but I ate ’em. All. I ended up having to go back to the normal grocery store to get more plums for this ice cream. Normal plums are the best! I roasted them with a little brown sugar and salt and the results were ridiculous.
Umm…okay, so I just learned that orange sherbet is not spelled orange sherBERT. No ‘r.’ Why is it pronounced like sorbet if we don’t pronounce it like that? Why make our lives more difficult, English language?! Why?!
It has been my dream for the last few weeks to make homemade trashy rainbow sherbet, but without all the food coloring. I’m still trying to figure that out in my brain because we need to do that. Growing up I had a serious fondness of orange sherbet, especially the variety that came in those gigantic plastic tubs with the plastic lid on it. I loved orange sherbet. I still do, except now I’m not really down with eating the stuff with weird chemicals and stuff. I want a natural situation.
My love for ice cream began very early; some doctors would probably argue that it was too early. (See last picture in this Father’s Day post for proof.) I believe I first tried ice cream when I was still on the bottle, probably around 3 months old. My dad gave me a taste because, well, I didn’t need any teeth – no teeth required! – to enjoy his favorite evening, indulgence. And to this day, my dad eats a bowl of ice cream every. single. night. One of the best birthday presents I ever gave him was an ice cream maker. He became obsessed, mastering a ton of ice cream recipes, but mainly perfecting his vanilla bean recipe. Simple things are tough!
This ice cream right here is tart, sweet with bright coral swirls. Hello! I realize I’m repeating myself with this swirl business. Everything lately is getting a swirl. Also, everything that’s sweet is also salty. I can’t help it! I’m a woman obsessed.
This post is brought to you in collaboration with Real California Milk. I had no idea until they sent me a fun fact sheet, but the state of California produces more ice cream than any other state in the United States, which basically means California is the best.