Rounder (including an admission of ice cream defeat)

I'm rocking the elastic belly-panel jeans, if I do say so myself. And yes, I meant for the strap to show. It's part of the whole look I'm working on.

Here's some free and hard-won wisdom for all our readers: you may be thinking that making your own homemade ice cream is a really cool idea, but I am here to tell you that there are a dozen brands-- at least-- of store-bought ice cream that are better, cheaper and less aggravating than the ice cream I made last night. I've decided to come forward with my story in case there are others out there who, like me, might oughta just stick with the freezer case at the store.

I was so determined to use the ice cream maker that's been gathering dust in our basement that I spent upwards of $20 this week, plus several hours and multiple car trips to gather ingredients, cook a custard base, smash ice with a hammer on our back porch (never did find crushed ice for sale in bags), obtain something called "ice melt" from the neighbors in place of rock salt (couldn't find rock salt, anywhere) and finally make this insanely over-billed homemade ice cream. Making the custard base was not a big problem, it was the work of filling this thing full of ice smashed by my own hands, sprinkled with "ice melt" and then enduring an hour of the machine grinding away on our counter. My resolve and excitement were fading hours before I tasted any ice cream. No one can accuse me of exhibiting extraordinary patience-- certainly not Scott, who resisted participating in the ice cream project from the beginning but did come to make sure all was well when he heard the ice hammering...

As we listened to the ice cream maker prepare for take-off I was still thinking the strawberry ice-cream inside-- made from fresh farmer's market strawberries! the best!-- would be worth all this stirring, straining, swearing and sweating. Not so. The ice cream had a kind of soft-serve quality when I took it out of the machine, so I packed it, as instructed, into containers to harden over night in the freezer. No magic transformation. The next morning, the texture was more like frozen cotton candy, or foam insulation, lightly sweetened. Scott suggested that we melt it, add cereal and try to reincarnate it as a giant Rice Krispy Treat. I think by that time he had hidden the hammer.

Others would be inspired to just keep at it, to tweak the recipe and try again. Not me. Next time I get some of those strawberries from the farmer's market-- and they are really, really good-- we'll just eat them straight out of the carton.