A lesson in humility

I feel like Icarus who flew too close to the sun and crashed to earth. Only my wings aren’t made of wax. They’re made of ice cream.

After having my Accidental Hedonist “Three Speeds of Ice Cream” post picked up by Reuters UK Lifestyles News and getting a link from the amazing Paris-based pastry chef, David Lebovitz, I produced the liquid you see in the above photo. It’s supposed to be cinnamon ice cream.

It’s been frozen and churned not once, but twice, but before I can say, “Who wants ice cream?” it dissolves into this.

And it doesn’t taste all that good either.

I steeped cinnamon sticks in the cream, added ground cinnamon and stirred in a handful of crushed candied hearts just for good measure. It tastes oily and won’t stay together. Note to self: Table cream (18%) is not a suitable substitute for whole cream (35%) and homo milk.

Undaunted by this temporary setback, I attempted a coffee ice cream, using the recipe from a trusted cookbook. It was so over-powering even Andrew, who thinks Starbucks’ French Roast is for wimps, found it too strong. So I added chopped dark chocolate, Frangelico and hazelnut brittle to produce this:

You know it’s bad when dessert looks this good and no one asks for seconds. Oh well, at least it held its shape long enough for me to snap a picture.

I’m about to make a brown sugar vanilla frozen yogurt. Let’s hope three times the charm.