Mint Chocolate Chip

confectionary lessons

The damn thing made a low humming noise when I plugged it in but refused to spin. Its plastic outer shell yellowed from years of little to no use. The central knob, the only moving part, didn’t budge thus rendering the whole contraption useless. The frozen bowl which I strategically put in the freezer hours earlier sat on the counter staring at me. My frustration quickly turned to half-hearted disappointment. After 20 or so years, my beloved ice cream maker would make ice cream no more.

I can’t say mint chocolate chip is my favorite flavor but it’s definitely in my top 3. The bright freshness of the mint coupled with the softest punch of chocolate is a perfect combination. The half carton of heavy whipping cream in my fridge, a remnant from a Cinco de Mayo tres leches cake, was begging to be used. Light whimpering could practically be heard any time I opened the fridge. Use me, use me it seemed to plead. A quick check of ingredients. Much to my surprise I had all I needed to make mint chocolate chip ice cream.

Ice cream making isn’t a spur-of-the-moment activity, especially if your freezer bowl isn’t perennially frozen. It requires some preparation. So I threw the bowl into the freezer and mixed all my ingredients together. Cream, milk, sugar, mint extract, a touch of vanilla, and a bit of salt. The chocolate gets introduced later. In a few hours I’d pour that delectable concoction into the bowl which would sit on its base and spin its way toward ice cream glory. At least that was the plan.

As I stared at the noncompliant base, I realized I’d have to pivot. A quick Google search informed me that I could put the concoction in the freezer, mix it up every 20ish minutes, and in a few hours I would have perfect soft-set ice cream which would then need to harden. It was more labor intensive than the set-it-and-forget-it method of the electric mixer but, fingers crossed, would get the job done.

That’s exactly what I did. I used the freezer bowl from the now-defunct ice cream maker and poured in the milky mixture. For about two hours I left it at the bottom of the freezer. Every 20 minutes I’d go in to give it a quick stir. It was almost bed time when I finally tossed in the chocolate. The final step. The mixture looked right but I wasn’t sure what would happen overnight. As I fell asleep I reminded myself that if it turned into a solid block of ice it wasn’t a huge loss. I hadn’t even made a special trip to the store.

At 6 a.m. the next morning, as I brewed my cup of English Breakfast in the haze of newly awakeness, I grabbed a spoon and made a beeline for the freezer. From looks alone it appeared to be ice cream. The spoon burrowed its way into the mixture. Texturally it felt like ice cream. Making sure there were at least two chocolate chips in the bite, I brought the spoon to my mouth. It tasted like ice cream. In fact I would venture to say it was perfect. The Platonic Ideal of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I let that sweet divinity melt on my tongue before putting the bowl back in the freezer and getting ready for work.

Even now I salivate thinking about a scoop of that goodness. Making something so delicious and so simple has reminded me how much I long for things like that - simple and delicious. That mint chocolate chip ice cream represents a return. A return to using my hands, a return to actually making things, a return to what’s real. I did that as a kid. That was all I knew how to do. My ancestors certainly did it too. It’s an instinct woven into our DNA. I want to lean into that and away from what’s synthetic and easy and digital. There’s a deep yearning for fewer screens and less social media, to get away from mass production. I want to feel connected - to my body, to sustenance, to others, to ingredients, to the earth.

I relish that this spirit of revolution, this rejection of the status quo, came from a little cream, a cup of sugar, and a broken ice cream machine.