Shoot me a jibe about my childlike obsession with ice cream and I’ll knock it back from fifty paces. It’s not dull, it’s not just for kids and I don’t need to order the gold-leaf-plated mille fuille of  fruits of Eden with a Perrier Jouet Belle Epoque sabayon; I  just want a bowl of ice cream. Its combination of baby food smoothness and melting sugared cream may be part of the appeal, yes (and classics such as raspberry ripple get me every time) but often it’s the way it so gracefully carries those grown-up flavours which has me reaching for the sundae spoon. I do love a bit of spice in my sweet stuff.

I originally envisaged this ice cream oozing all over a rhubarb galette but the recipe I used was not at all to my taste. To be fair alarm bells did ring as I was making it – 1 whole teaspoon of vanilla extract + 170g sugar must surely = sickly perfume?

The answer is yes, yes it does. The pastry was nice; I picked it off and used it as a scooper for the ice cream.

Back at my drawing board, I got a bee in the bonnet for poached pears. Simmered with a syrup laced with cloves, vanilla (half a pod) and  cinnamon stick, they were delicate, elegant and actually rather perfect. One thing missing though: pastry. Makes you wonder why I didn’t just make the pear tatins as suggested in the ice cream recipe, doesn’t it? Hmm.

Anyway, the bottom line is that the ice cream is awesome. The scary amount of star anise actually infuse just the right amount of flavour* and the base seemed particularly creamy. Now I’ve got the bug for spice I’m set on making a chocolate and cardamom version but there’s one lesson I’m taking with me and it’s this:  sometimes, a girl just needs a simple bowl of ice cream.

Star Anise Ice Cream Recipe from The Times

*I was very nervous when I clocked the amount of star anise in the recipe, but realised this is because the milk is infusing for only a short time – you need to get that flavour in fast. The end result is not overpowering.

Too cold for ice cream? Never! I’d rather crank up the heating and jumper myself up to Michelin Man level than stop eating the cold stuff during winter months. After a moderately successful attempt at curbing my previous (and frankly quite disturbing) level of consumption, I’ve relapsed and bought an ice cream maker. All that  freezing, mixing, freezing rubbish is now a distant memory; the thing has powers of mystical magical wonderment. Milk, cream and custard are transformed into the smoothest of operators.

As a child, the practice of eating ice cream for me was a ritualistic one. I would scurry off to a quiet corner and perform a weird routine of  mashing and stirring to just the right consistency, then using the back of my spoon to form it into peaks before finally devouring each at record speed; I’ve had my fair share of brain freezes and then some. Back then, my weapon of choice was strawberry or Neapolitan but now I’ve come to favour more adult flavours (makes sense) and I’m pleased to report that I can eat it in the normal manner. A boozy rum ‘n’ raisin floats my boat, as does a skilfully balanced lemon sorbet or even a far-out candied bacon affair.

Sally Butcher’s earl grey ice cream with Iranian chickpea sweets is top of the list*, and here I’ve given it a citrus twist with some lemon verbena kindly given to me by the rarest of tea ladies, Henrietta Lovell, who advised me to add just a pinch to my cuppa. I wasn’t sure how the dried version would work in an ice cream so cautiously added a  teaspoon infused with each teabag. The resulting flavour was creamed bergamot with a subtle lift of lemon freshness. I ate it for breakfast today.

A bit of practical advice on method before I head to the freezer for another fix: when heating the mixture for the second time, make sure to stay with it and stir. Don’t wander off or be tempted to turn up the heat too much as I have done on several occasions – the eggs will scramble and your mix will be ruined. I did it again just yesterday.

Earl Grey and Lemon Verbena Ice Cream (adapted from Persia in Peckham by Sally Butcher).

150ml strong earl grey tea (I used 2 teabags, sorry Henrietta), brewed with 2 tablespoons of dried lemon verbena and then strained. If you don’t have lemon verbena, use a  strip of lemon peel, adding it to the pan with the milk, cream and tea.
150ml each full fat milk, single cream and whipping cream
1 strip lemon peel or 2 teaspoons dried lemon verbena
3 egg yolks
110g caster sugar

Put the tea, single cream and milk into a pan and bring to a simmer, then whisk the egg yolks and sugar together until they thicken and pale. Remove the milk mixture from the heat (discard the lemon peel if using), then whisk it into the egg mix.

Put the whole lot back onto a gentle heat until it thickens, stirring very regularly. On no account should you let this boil, otherwise the eggs will scramble. Set it aside to cool with a dampened circle of greaseproof paper on the top, to stop a skin forming.
When cool, either churn in an ice cream maker, adding the whipping cream towards the end of churning, or pour into a freezer-proof container, then cover it and freeze until half frozen. At this point, scoop it into a bowl, then whisk up the whipping cream and fold it into the ice cream. Put it back into the freezer until it is of ice cream consistency. You can repeat this as often as you can be bothered, to reduce the amount of crystals in the finished ice cream. Or, buy an ice cream maker and live happily ever after.

* sounds weird I know but the chickpea sweets are incredible – you can buy them in Iranian shops like Sally’s or make them by her recipe below. I’ve never actually used this recipe myself, preferring to buy them.

Chickpea Shortbread/Sweets

50g caster sugar
110g Iranian chickpea flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
50g unsalted butter
Crushed nibbed pistachios

Sift the dry ingredients together on a flat, clean surface, then work in the butter with the tips of your fingers. When the mixture starts holding together, roll it into little chickpea shapes (or make into whatever shape you fancy) and put them on a sheet of grease-proof paper on a baking tray. Bake for about 10 minutes at gas 2/150C and allow to cool. Sprinkle with the crushed pistachio.

The shop bought ones usually contain saffron apparently but Sally’s version obviously does not. Do what you will.

Earlier this year, on a dark, cold night in South London, a group of six bloggers gathered together to celebrate some gastronomic guilty pleasures – those things you really shouldn’t enjoy eating but oh, how you do. We had so much fun the first time round that we gathered again a couple of days ago for round two. I decided to step up my game this time and bring not one but two guilty pleasures, the first a regular in my repertoire and the second, one I’d been sitting on, just waiting for the right opportunity to make it.

We all arrived at host Niamh’s house, dripping wet from pelting rain but with bags of enthusiasm for the feasting ahead. As so many of us were to include pork in our offerings, we decided to re-name the meal ‘pork party’ and amused ourselves with the expected nature of extra traffic this would likely bring to our blogs, while nibbling on ‘canapes’ of cheese strings, babybels and dairylea dunkers, provided by Chris.

We decided to start the meal proper with some mini chorizo pizzas from Niamh, followed by my first GP of soft boiled eggs with buttery anchovy soldiers. Somehow I managed to hard boil the eggs and when Niamh cooked some more they were under-done; who knew food bloggers can’t even boil an egg?! Thankfully, the anchovy dippers went down a treat despite the double fail.

Next Lizzie whipped up some Spam pancakes or Spamcakes, as they were quickly re-named. These were wonderfully stodgy, with a salty hit from the spam – even better dunked in a dollop of hot sauce for a double GP hit. As we all scoffed the pancakes, a spicy, meaty aroma started to waft around the kitchen and Dan soon produced his ’sleasy cheesy silly chilli’; nachos were melded together with an oozing layer of melted red Leicester, ready for scooping up piles of his frankly rather brilliant chilli. His secret apparently, is to add a splash of Dave’s Insanity Sauce plus a touch of our beloved swine meat. Always with the swine. It was meaty, fiery goodness and I ate rather too much of it. I won’t go into details.

Niamh did what she does best and whacked a big old lump of spiced pig belly in the oven,  roasting until the crackling was bubbly crisp and the meat still juicy. You can never eat enough pork in our opinion, which brings me nicely onto my second contribution – David Lebovitz’s candied bacon ice cream (top photo). I even bought an ice cream maker just for this one recipe. I’ve only made ice cream once before and I was pleasantly surprised at how easy it was, particularly now I don’t have to take it out of the freezer and stir it every couple of hours. One word of warning though, you’ve got to watch that bacon like a HAWK. I burnt two lots and totally ruined a baking tray in the process.

Once I’d finally managed to get it right, the bacon was chopped into teeny pieces and stirred through the ice cream at the last minute. The end result was a vanilla scented fudgy flavour from the brown sugar, although I was a little disappointed that it didn’t taste more bacon-y so I candied some extra at the last minute to sprinkle on top. If you are the least bit sceptical about bacon ice cream let me reassure you, it really does work. Think bacon with maple syrup and honey glazed ham – the sweet/smoke/meat combo is a winner.

So there you have it – an unashamed pork-fest, with a bit of plastic cheese and anchovy dippers thrown in. Guilty pleasures ahoy. Dan and Denise also brought along some interesting wines, which you can read about on their blogs. My personal favourite was the Alois Lageder Gewürztraminer, which made a valiant attempt at taming that ferocious beast of a chilli. The wine flowed, the food kept-a-comin’ and the revelery was typically raucous. We faced some nasty weather conditions, a broken down fridge, a double egg disaster and a crackling fail but ultimately, we triumphed, such is our dedication to the filthy snack.

You can see my full Flickr set from the evening here.

Thanks to Niamh for the top photo.

I always find it hard to talk myself into doing anything with Alphonso mangoes other than eating them au naturel, straight from the box (apart from using them in salsa, I am a bit addicted to doing that). The flavour of the Indian Alphonso is like well, mango but really sweet, perfumed and intensely so. Widely considered to be the finest mango – they are expensive, coming in at nearly a quid per fruit but do get a bit cheaper as the season wears on.

I saw this recipe for a sorbet on Times Online and it’s so simple I thought it would be rude not to give it whirl. You remove the flesh from 6 Alphonso mangoes – an incredibly simple process with my new mango stoner (cheers mum!) – one swift movement and the cheeks are off and the stone is ready for sucking. You blend this with 200g icing sugar, the juice of 2 limes and an egg white (beaten to soft peaks), if you fancy a lighter texture (I did). It froze quickly, I took it out, blended it, re-froze it and did the same again an hour or two later. It came out near perfect. If I was being picky I reckon it could take a touch more lime for a bit more tang. In fact, some zest on top would be fantastic. Dammit, I can’t believe I only just thought of that!

I heard today that we are in for a heatwave this summer, but I know from experience not to get over excited. The Alphonso’s on the other hand, are pretty much guaranteed to hang around until the end of June so come rain or shine, I shall be feasting on mango sorbet and dreaming of tropical climes.

Yesterday was my birthday and to celebrate, the man and I originally intended to visit Roka. At the last minute though, we decided to face up to the fact – we really can’t afford to fork out £150 for a meal right now. Of course, we could have done it ‘on the cheap’ but then I’m an all or nothing kind of woman so I decided – we would feast, but we would feast at home. I would cook my own birthday meal. Some people might despair at the thought of spending part of their birthday in the kitchen but, in case you hadn’t noticed, I like to cook.

I decided to go with an Iranian theme to the meal. Persia in Peckham is my favourite cook book at the moment and its author, Sally Butcher runs the shop – Persepolis, just down the road. When I reviewed the shop last year, she e-mailed me and invited me down for some tea and a chat. I needed some ingredients so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to take her up on the offer.

Sally is just as friendly and funny as she comes across in her book (which she kindly signed for me). She also enthusiastically answered my questions about her recipes and gave me a few tips on getting the best from the exotic ingredients. I’ve decided to tell you about the dessert first as it was just so incredibly delicious and I’m really not even a dessert person.

I must admit I actually stuffed it up the first time. In the recipe, Sally warns that if you let the eggy creamy mixture get too hot while thickening, it will scramble. She is absolutely right. I suggest not wandering off with a glass of wine for a chat at this point. Also, because this method doesn’t use an ice cream maker, I was left with a few ice crystals but it was great nonetheless. You could try taking it out of the freezer and whisking it up more often and then re-freezing if you can be bothered.

You may all be earl grey ice cream veterans but I’m pretty sure this was my first time. I drink it, I’ve smoked duck with it but I’ve never ice creamed it. Loved it. I also cannot imagine any better accompaniment than these chickpea sweets. Sally does provide a recipe for them in the book but I had to draw the line somewhere and just bought them from her shop instead (they are widely available in Iranian shops apparently). Like most Iranian sweets, they are fairly dry but this works perfectly with the ice cream. Made from Iranian chickpea flour (using roasted chickpeas, not raw ones as with gram flour), they are delicately scented with saffron, pistachio and cardamom and just melt in the mouth. I think I may be addicted.

A sprinkle of chopped pistachios on top and it was a refreshing yet indulgent way to end the meal. I’ll write about the stuffed, barbecued lamb soon. For now I shall just tell you that after the meal (ourselves stuffed and contented), we curled up on the sofa – astounded to find the film Persepolis was on the telly. A fitting end to a truly gluttonous birthday, it really was like my own little Persia in Peckham.

P.S – anyone mentions anything about the absence of rounded corners on the pictures and there will be trouble…you know who you are. I’m just over it, k?! Alright, and I can’t be bothered any more. Oh yes, and Food Stories is getting a new look – I’ve had the painters and decorators in and the brand spanking new site will be up at the beginning of May – sans rounded corners and cowboy html. Times, they are a changin…

Earl Grey Ice Cream with Chickpea Shortbread/Sweets (from Persia in Peckham by Sally Butcher)

Ice Cream
150ml strong earl grey tea (I used 2 teabags)
150ml each full fat milk and single cream
1 strip lemon peel
3 egg yolks
110g caster sugar
150ml whipping cream

- put the tea, single cream and milk into a pan with the lemon peel and bring to a simmer.
- whisk the egg yolks and sugar together until they thicken and pale.
- remove the milk mixture from the heat (discard the lemon peel), then whisk it into the egg mix.
- put the whole lot back onto a gentle heat until it thickens. On no account should you let this boil, otherwise the eggs with scramble. Set it aside to cool with a dampened circle of greaseproof paper on the top, to stop a skin forming.
- when cool, pour into a freezer-proof container – cover it and freeze until half frozen. At this point, scoop it into a bowl, then whisk up the whipping cream and fold it into the ice cream. Put it back into the freezer until it is of ice cream consistency.

Chickpea Shortbread/Sweets
(this recipe doesn’t have the saffron like the shop bought ones – I’m guessing the main difference will be the colour).
50g caster sugar
110g Iranian chickpea flour
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
50g unsalted butter
Crushed nibbed pistachios

- Sift the dry ingredients together on a flat, clean surface, then work in the butter with the tips of your fingers.
- When the mixture starts holding together, roll it into little chickpea shapes (or make into whatever shape you fancy) and put them on a sheet of grease-proof paper on a baking tray. Bake for about 10 minutes at gas 2/150C and allow to cool. Sprinkle with the crushed pistachio.