We take our ice cream pretty seriously around here. I’m a purist: vanilla, chocolate, a limited palette of toppings and stir-ins. In a dish; always in a dish. Jody thinks I’m boring. She’d rather be elbow deep in a waffle bowl of toasted coconut almond fudge-bunny truffle surprise (recipe forthcoming). It’s these little differences of opinion that keep our marriage passionate.
Our last field trip before Jody went into labor with Autumn was a visit to Bi-Rite Creamery on a sunny September day. An auspicious beginning? Not wanting to spoil our dear child before she could appreciate this frozen splendor and glory, we waited nearly two years to introduce her to ice cream. Part of the delay was my insistence that we offer her the best ice cream I know.
Now this may reek of conceit, but I know of no better ice cream than the dark chocolate I make a few times each year. It’s not my recipe. That honor belongs to Mr. David Lebovitz, or D-Leb as I call him. His chocolate ice cream recipe from The Perfect Scoop is simply the most indulgent thing to ever grace our freezer. Not the best chocolate ice cream or the best homemade ice cream. It’s simply the best ice cream I’ve ever had. Period. Hyperbole be damned.
I wanted to wait for a perfect summer day. Maybe a backyard dinner on a late summer evening. But this summer has been anything but. Foggy, misty, and just damned cold. Mark Twain was right. We couldn’t wait forever. Last week, I made a batch with the best ingredients I know: Straus cream, Scharffen Berger chocolate, extra-dark Dutch cocoa, fresh Petaluma eggs.
Autumn can be particular about what she’ll eat. But after tonight I can say with confidence that she is absolutely a Pritchard. She’s got the face to prove it.