Recipe: Guinness Chocolate Ice Cream

As weird as this recipe might sound to you, I am telling you now that this is the best chocolate ice cream that I've ever had. Bear in mind that that is coming from a chocolate snob. And for any of you who might be freaked out by the beer, trust me when I tell you that the Guinness adds an interesting depth and complexity to the custard. It's a nice, very subtly bitter counterpoint to all of the richness of the dairy. I tasted the custard before and after the addition of the Guinness (you know, strictly for scientific purposes) and the beer really does make the difference.

I came across this recipe on the blog of another Michelle, over at Brown Eyed Baker. The following is my modified version of her modified version of a recipe from David Lebovitz's "The Perfect Scoop". I can't help it, I'm a modifier. Sometimes I shoot myself in the foot with my tinkering, but in this instance, I am happy with my finished product. So make it my way or make it her way, just do yourself a favor and make this ice cream!



Guinness Chocolate Ice Cream

This recipe makes 1 quart. I made a double batch with no trouble. ;)

5 ounces semi-sweet chocolate, finely chopped (I used Callebaut)
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
Pinch of salt
4 egg yolks
1 cup heavy cream
¾ cup Guinness Stout
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Put the chopped chocolate in a large bowl and set a mesh strainer over the top, set aside.

2. Warm the milk, sugar and salt in a medium saucepan. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warm milk mixture into the beaten egg yolks, whisking constantly to temper them without cooking them, then pour the warmed egg yolk/milk mixture back into the saucepan.

3. Stir the egg yolk/milk mixture constantly over medium heat with a heatproof spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula, forming a custard. Pour the custard through the strainer over the bowl of chopped chocolate, catching and discarding any bits of cooked egg. Stir until the chocolate is melted and incorporated. Once the mixture is smooth, whisk in the cream, followed by the Guinness and vanilla extract.

4. Chill the mixture thoroughly in the refrigerator (it is recommended that you chill it for at least 8 hours or overnight), then churn in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. (My ice cream maker went kaput on me, so I used the freezer bowl portion of it only. After 6 hours of cooling before freezing, then another 2 hours in the in the freezer (in the freezer bowl), I had a nice, soft-set ice cream.)

Four easy steps, followed by a painfully long wait pacing back and forth in front of the freezer, and you have yourself a wickedly delicious bowl of ice cream. :)

Goats Gone Wild

The girls went out to feed the goats this evening. They're out there for about 5 minutes when Scarlet comes hauling butt onto the porch, "Mom! Spike's got his head stuck in the fence! UPSIDE DOWN!!!"

Wow. This is a creative new way to annoy me, even for you, Spike. Way to go buddy!


The offender

So then it's my turn to haul butt stumble awkwardly through the mud out to the goat pens. By the time I get there, he is no longer upside down, but he is still good and stuck. I try to thread his horns back trough the same square that he's got his giant head poking out of, only to have Mr. Wonderful start to fight me in earnest. Spike doesn't like having his horns touched; it makes him feel vulnerable and controlled. But I don't see any other way that we're going to get this mess dealt with, so I go behind him, inside the pen and try to wriggle both horns back through the hole while Archie and Gertie bob and weave and jump up on me, with the mistaken idea that I have some sort of foodstuff squirrelled away in my pocket. Three against one and the one is cold, breathless and pissed.

I finally get numbskull's head out of the fence, trudge back in to the house and have just sat down on the couch, when here comes Scarlet, all kerfuffled again. "Mama! Fritzen got out! We need help!"

Son of a &#%&@!!!

By the time I'm halfway out there with some alfalfa snacks to bribe the misfit mama back home, Liv yells down to me that she's already rounded her back up - crisis averted.

This sort of circus reminds me of when the girls were little. The minute you sat down after a long day, somebody needed something, pronto. It got to the point where my delirious sleep-deprived mind started to wonder if my girls had a sixth sense, or maybe some sort of buzzer rigged to the couch cushion to let them know the minute I sat down so that they could time their potty emergencies and midnight pukings just so. And now it would seem that the critters are in on it. No sooner do I lay my head down at night than I hear what *might* be a coyotes yip out back, or the low clang of Spike's bell, just outside my bedroom window, signaling a jailbreak. Some variation on this theme occurs daily. Can mama not get a moment of peace around here, for crying out loud? SERENITY NOW!!!

Graced by Grace

Our funky little Golden Laced Polish hen, Gracie, finally laid her first-ever egg today. I found it in the nest box and quickly put it back, so that the girls could find it later. They came back from critter patrol running and hooting down the driveway with the telltale white egg.

We now have a full spectrum of egg colors!

My husband's family is of Ukrainian heritage, so Grace's timing is just perfect for us to make some Ukrainian Easter eggs from our own eggs. It's a painstaking process, sort of like Batiking an egg. But some of the designs are pretty amazing. This will be a family time double-whammy of using what we grow and honoring the culture of our heritage.

Thank you, Gracie girl! :)

Dandy Time is Nigh

The dandelions are back! Why do I sound so happy about the return of the sworn enemy of gardeners everywhere? Wine, baby!

If you see some dandies growing somewhere that you know to be chemical and dog wiz-free, by all means, pick them. One thing to watch out for is the "false dandelions", Cats Ear and Hawks Beard. They usually show up later in the season, but you don't want to accidentally mix them up with the real thing. You can consult a field guide or just use google images to verify what you've got, but odds are if it's this early in Spring, it's a dandelion.

The only part that you need for the wine is the petals, but I usually pop the whole flower head off, then pluck the petals from the head while loafing on the couch, watching Netflix. It takes forever and a day to pick and pluck enough petals for a batch of wine, but I assure you that the end result is worth the trouble!

I'm trying to locate the recipe book that I used for last years batch - still looking. It's probably in storage somewhere still, but don't let that stop you from seeking out a recipe of your own elsewhere. Even if you can't find one you like right now, go ahead and pick your petals and freeze them, because the genuine dandelions aren't actually around for that long. You'll need quite a bit. If I recall correctly, my recipe called for 1 quart of petals (a spaghetti sauce jar full) per gallon of wine - and I made a three gallon batch!

Your neighbors will see you picking weeds on the side of the road and look at you funny (mine did anyway) and your fingers will be sticky and yellow for days after, but with relatively little effort, you can turn a weed into wine! It's the ultimate in upcycling! :)

Farm Girl Truism #1

Whoever invented the expression "Happy as a pig in $h!t" must have never seen a chicken in fresh straw. They lose their freaking minds over it.

My hens were scratching so feverishly today that they looked like they were moon-walking through the coop. It's nice to be surrounded by at least a few beings that are so easily pleased. ;)

Hangin' with Norbert

When it rains so much that the frogs have had enough, it's wet.

I found young Mr. Norbert, here, on my porch, jamming himself into a corner of my door frame, presumably to escape the weather. I relocated him to the porch railing next to the boxwood in the hope that he could find a less squish-prone place to hole up.

Onward, Norbert! Your twenty-thousand wives and children in the bog are fretting over you! Skeedattle!

This is what my bog frog chorus sounds like on a sunny day. Multiply it by ten or twenty and you've got an idea of what a rainy night sounds like here!

In addition to Norbert and his kind seeking refuge on my porch and elsewhere, I've noticed a disturbing spike in the number of displaced, dehydrated newts in my basement. How are you getting in there little dudes? Does the appeal of the Man Cave cross lines of both phylum and culture, luring you in with it's eau de homebrew and fish bait? I love you little amphibians, but it has been well established that critters in my care must be tolerant of some level of incompetence on my part, and you, my friends are just too darn fragile.

So scamper on! Chill on the porch or hide out in the basement if you must, just don't forget to let yourself back out when you're done. And don't hide in my boots! That scenario doesn't end well for either of us.

Running on Empty

Is it Spring yet? Because I find myself doing lots of Springtime chores lately, yet I can't help but notice that I'm still needing to wear 5 layers of clothing while doing so. I'm always Winter-weary by late February, but it's March now. My sunshine is overdue! I'm ready for a 50 degree day. Is that really asking so much?

Since assuming the morning critter patrol duties solo, I've noticed that I hit my mid-afternoon lag a little bit harder than usual, which is saying something, since I am an Olympics-grade napper anyway. The exponential expansion of our animals has me running hither and yon morning, noon and night to water, feed, visit, clean and love on my critters. I enjoy the hell out of it, but my back is killing me and most nights I can barely stay awake long enough to get the kids in bed. So this is what a hard day's honest work feels like! But I am a delicate flower and this - how do you say? - manual labor is busting my chops. I foresee an awkward adjustment period...

I've got the skills (sort of) and the desire to whip this place into shape, I just need that last little piece of the puzzle - the oomph. Where art thou, oomph? You're not at the bottom of my fourth cup of coffee, I checked there.