Homemade ice cream makes everyone happy, and though we do have an (electric) churn, most of the time we just use this recipe, which is easy, with simple ingredients, and you don’t have to bother with ice. Most recipes for no-churn ice cream recommend a loaf pan lined with parchment paper, so that’s your first step, line a loaf pan with parchment paper. Pour one chilled 14-oz. can sweetened condensed milk into a cold bowl, and add two teaspoons vanilla. Whip two cups of heavy cream to stiff peaks. Working quickly, GENTLY fold the whipped cream into the sweetened condensed milk, along with any additions—mashed macerated fruit, chocolate syrup, or crushed cookies or nuts—until thoroughly blended. Pour into the prepared loaf pan and cover with plastic wrap. Freeze for at least four hours. Some recipes will tell you to stir the mixture after about two hours (while you still can) but this is superfluous. I recommend making this in the morning for an afternoon gathering.
My grandmother Monette was a woman of many parts: a wit and a wag, a poet and historian, she raised two children who became remarkable people in their own right. She belonged to a generation of women who entered the workplace in time of war, and unlike her mother or daughter she never became a good cook. She along with millions of other women relied more on any given product’s “recommended recipes” than hand-me-downs or innovation. As a result, my Southern Baby-Boomer cuisine—for which, I might add, I barely qualify—is peppered with dishes fabricated in test kitchens.
Green bean casserole is the most popular of these concoctions, but there are dozens of others, including lemon icebox pie. Many early recipes include the word “magic”, as if cooling ingredients for preparation were more metaphysical than heating. Ingredients usually include canned milk of some sort, sweetened or not, as well as meringue or whipped cream, either in the filling or lightly-baked as topping. This recipe is from The Country Gourmet, distributed by the Mississippi Animal Rescue League in 1983, which includes a short forward by Eudora Welty ending with the marvelously ambiguous: “Guarding and protecting, trying to save, all life on earth is a need we all alike share.”
Beat six ounces of whipped topping with a thawed can of lemonade concentrate and a can of condensed milk. Pour into a graham cracker pie crust and chill one hour before serving.
This rich custard makes a sumptuous base for any homemade ice cream, simply add flavorings to taste. Admittedly it is a little time-consuming and takes a bit of patience, but custards were most likely the basis for the rich, unforgettable ice creams your grandmother made on the porch when you were growing up.
Combine 1 cup sugar, 1 tablespoon cornstarch and a scant teaspoon salt in a saucepan. Gradually stir in a quart of half-and-half, stirring constantly and place over low heat. In a large bowl beat together 2 large eggs and a tablespoon of pure vanilla extract until whites and yolks are thoroughly blended. Add this mixture very slowly into the half and half, stirring constantly and gradually increasing heat until thickened. It should have the consistency of eggnog. Stir in a pint of whipping cream and remove from heat. Refrigerate for 45 minutes to cool, then add fruit, nuts and/or flavorings and sugar to taste, place in your ice cream freezer and process according to directions.
Brits have a genius for naming food—bangers and mash, spotted dick, toad in the hole, fools and faggots—but some names make a smidgen of sense, if in an oblique way. Take the Eton mess, which is not some cadet catastrophe, but instead part of an institutional meal, in this instance of a school though the term also applies in the military.
An Eton mess is a dessert, a mixture of meringue chunks, whipped double cream and fruit, most traditionally strawberries, but other summer fruit—blackberries, peaches or plums—are used. As the name implies, it’s said to have originated at Eton College, originally simply ice cream or cream with strawberries, but then the toffs took hold of it and thus the meringue and double cream. A variation of the Eton mess made with bananas and served at Lancing College is of course called a Lancing mess.
In our humid Southern summers, a traditional (“French”) meringue isn’t quite practical, so instead make what is called—God only knows why—an “Italian” meringue. Heat a cup of sugar and a half cup of water to the “raging torrent” stage of boiling then cool until steaming. Whip four egg whites at room temperature in a bowl that’s been wiped with half a lemon; once the whites make soft peaks, SLOWLY drizzle in the hot sugar syrup and keep whipping until quite stiff. Spoon this meringue on a lightly oiled sheet pan and bake in the oven until dry through, then break into chunks. As to the double cream, which has at least 10% more milkfat than whipping cream and has not been ultra-high heat processed, you simply can’t find it here, and while some of you will certainly find this reprehensible at the very least, my solution is to substitute whipped melted vanilla Häagen-Dazs.
Messes are best assembled as soon before serving as possible, since the meringue will certainly become soggy in a very short time. You can pretty them up with chopped nuts if you like.