Egg Stains on the Kitchen Floor

Wow. So it’s almost been a month since my last post. Didn’t I write something somewhere before about keeping up with it more? That’s embarrassing. And also I think that’s what most bloggers say. So I’m being all cliche. Also embarrassing.

I feel like I have lots of things I could write about which makes me feel like I have nothing to write about. Does that even make sense? My parents just left after almost a week long visit here in Jersey. As they were leaving my dad said he would be waiting for the ‘ice cream post’. It’s amazing how supportive parents are. They shower me with undeserved praise and put up with my ridiculous attitude that I occasionally develop out of nowhere (why are girls so complicated?)…sorry about that, by the way.

My dad is my most enthusiastic blog reader. In fact almost their entire visit was narrated by him (out loud) as a blog post. I guess for motivation. Or ideas. I wish now I could remember what he said. It would undoubtedly be better than what I can come up with right now. I did steal his idea for the title.

One of the highlights of my parents’ trip (besides of course when my dad belted out the Happy Birthday song to his sister over the phone in the echo-y train station with other people around) was being able to cook with my mom. Having her here with me is certainly easier than trying to text her questions while whisking or sauteing, which I do often. It’s funny how as soon as someone is in the kitchen with you you start second guessing everything – even stuff you basically know. “Do you think this is done?”, “Is this enough salad?”, “Should I do this part first?”. I mean, you would think I never boiled water before or something.

Anyway, one of the things we made together was ice cream in my new ice cream maker. I was extremely excited to make one particular flavor – sea salt. On a trip to Ireland with Andy back in 2010 we tried Murphy’s Ice Cream in Dingle and I was intrigued by their sea salt flavor. It was delicious. Better than delicious – I hate using that word ever since I heard Bobby Flay give contestants on Next Food Network Star a hard time for using it…

It was the flavor of an overcast day somewhere on the coast. If that could be an ice cream flavor. When we returned to Ireland for a short business trip (Andy’s, not mine), I made sure we went back to the Dublin store to have the sea salt ice cream again. Andy may have had a different flavor (I’m sure all the flavors are good), but in my memory it was really just all about me and that sea salt ice cream.

I was so happy to discover that their actual recipe was posted online. I am very willing to travel to Ireland for another taste, but in the inbetween I can make it here at home.

You would think being that my mother and I are relatively ‘experienced’ cooks we could get it together to make some ice cream. Well, you thought wrong. It was our own little Comedy of Errors as we mismeasured the milk (220ml x 4 = 480ml, doesn’t it??) and then Mama scrambled the eggs in 1/2 of the custard (we were also making strawberry ice cream with part of the base). Not to mention the kitchen floor suffered little splats of egg whites (which will never be made into meringues, by the way, despite our going through the trouble of storing them in a convenient and very cute tupperware container). I think we were distracted by Papa’s constant blog narration.

In the end, though, the ice cream turned out great. Even the strawberry-scrambled-egg flavor. With Mama to the rescue, we put the custard in a food processor and then strained it through a fine mesh sieve. That helped a little. The sea salt, after we fixed the milk problem, was lovely and almost exactly how I remember the one in Ireland. It tastes fabulous with some caramel sauce on top (what doesn’t?). It will now taste like a happy visit with my parents. Mama by my side mixing and Papa sitting in the kitchen dictating my next post.

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2 Comments to “Egg Stains on the Kitchen Floor”

  1. Loved mixing, scrambling, splattering, laughing, and, of course, eating with you.

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