Homemade Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

A simple recipe for homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream, assuming you have an ice cream maker – which makes all the difference in the world!

Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream
3 cups half-and-half
3/4 cup sugar
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup heavy cream
8 egg yolks
2 tsp peppermint extract
2 tsp crème de menthe (green or white)
a few drops of green food coloring (optional)
1/2 cup chocolate chips

1. Pour the half-and-half into a medium saucepan and place over a medium burner on the stove.

2. Add the sugar and the salt to the saucepan. Bring to just a simmer.

3. Meanwhile, whisk the egg yolks.

4. Temper the egg yolks into the cream and put back on the stove until the custard coats the back of your spoon and you can draw a line through with your finger, about 140ºF.

5. Pour hot egg mixture through a sieve into heavy cream in a bowl set over an ice bath. Stir with a rubber spatula until cool. Don’t use a whisk, you don’t want to add any air bubbles.

6. Stir in mint extract, crème de menthe and green color to your look and taste desires. Chill several hours, overnight is best.

7. Following your ice cream maker’s instructions, freeze ice cream base and add chocolate chips for the last minute.

8. Pour ice cream into a container and freeze several hours more.

9. Enjoy!

On the Line with Eric Ripert

 

Standing in the newly renovated Astor Center, I met Chef Eric Ripert of Le Bernadin. I was nervous, this being my first official interview, but as soon as the Chef, smiling, relaxed in jeans and a green button-down shirt, walked in looking for me, I was put at ease, in that oh-my-god-I’m-interviewing-Eric-Ripert kind of way. Additionally, he was so comfortable in the rhythym of an interview that I could have been Elvis or the Dalai Lama and his answers would flow just as easily, and authentically.

Chef Eric looked around and nostalgized aloud about the “great parties” thrown at Serafina, the restaurant which inhabited the space some years before. I immediately thought that I’d like to hang out with him and drink but, the consummate professional, I passed on the offer of wine from Le Bernadin’s cellar, until after the interview was over. First though, we took a tour of the Astor Center, the second-floor educational facility owned and operated by Astor Wines, which is located on the ground floor.  The tasting room was being set for the evening’s Wine 101 course and volunteers dressed in black, filled glasses seemingly unimpressed with Eric’s presence. As if Anthony Bordain or James Beard himself had just left. 

Eric was at the Astor Center to promote his new book, On the Line, a detailed account of life in the kitchen of the 3-Michelin starred Le Bernadin. As we made our way though the back halls, Christine Muhlke, author behind the birth of the book arrived, tired and asked for a Campari & soda. She was young and pretty and as a food editor for the NY Times, looked, in equal parts, very busy and very important. We were escorted back into the room where their stage conversation would take place before an audience of eighty or so New York foodies. I had gotten notice of the event through the Village Voice Bites email newsletter. I thought then that lots of people would be there but it turns out that cult foodies who will shell out seventy five bucks to hear a chef talk on a Monday night are actually a rare breed.  

But Eric Ripert isn’t an ordinary chef. He’s not the guy peeling carrots advising me to rethink my career choice. (“There’s still time to be a banker,” I was told while trailing at a restaurant of Le Bernadin caliber, by a 25-year-old sous chef. Apparently he doesn’t watch the news.) Chef Eric is an insipration. He’s normal. Well, kind of normal. I tried to get him to admit that he had some guilty food pleasure, like Doritoes or Mountain Dew and he curled up his plump lips and said “Zeez tings do not apeel to me.” Black truffles and dark chocolate have his heart, though he feels no guilt about any food indulgence and doesn’t understand why anyone else would either. “Or a really good caviar.” What’s there to feel guilty about? 

Growing up in Andorra and France, Eric recalls his first food memory to me: rolling dough for breadsticks. As he talks, he stares at the floor, smiling.  His palms come together and he slides them back and forth as though Mama’s or Granmama’s pate is still there. So how does a kid from the seaside town of Antibes in France achieve such great heights? “I was a terrible student. When I was 15 the Headmaster of my school had a meeting with my parents and he told them ‘he needs to find a profession.’” At this, the young Eric chose culinary school, thus setting in motion a future of truffles and dark chocolate.

On the Line is a detailed account of life at Le Bernadin. From a minute-by-minute account of a typical day, to a glossary of kitchen slang, it is a touching love story, between people, a place and the food that is created there every night, 150,000 plates per year. Christine noted in our conversation that every single one of the 120 employees is valuable and necessary and the place would not run if any one of them was absent. Eric is surprised to hear that this is unique in a workplace. I resist the temptation to regale him with stories of all-to-common office drama and apathy, and instead listen as he speaks so lovingly of the team he has built. He has studied Buddhism for twenty years and Christine credits that, at least partially, with Eric’s ability to lead, without an ego. At this, he bursts a gaffaw laugh and says “Oh, no! I have an ego!” and trails off, neglecting to elaborate.

Eric’s history is one of never-give-up integrity and passion and that unfolds beautifully on every page of On the Line, and his ability to tell a story (cutting his finger on the first day at La Tour d’Argent) to me and also to an audience who filled the room. For an hour or so he and Christine recount the writing of the book, while also filling in gaps that were left “for the sequel.” Christine jokes, but there’s a distinct air of vision in Eric’s talking. He talks openly about anticipating the downturn in the economy several years ago and at that time, decided to broaden his enterprise, write a book for example, and appear as guest on Bravo’s Top Chef, thus exposing Le Bernadin to an audience for whom it may never hit their radar. He’s a brilliant business man in this way. Does he expect the lowly food blogger to have a weekly reservation at Le Bernadin? Of course not. But graduation, anniversary, special occasion? Yes. Through his marketing efforts, an entire audience of aspiring foodies and gourmet junkies have his name permanently engraved in their pop culture memory.

All this, and he’s basically unchanged by the fame his public life has brought him. Christine asks how he feels about the Chef-As-Sex-Symbol status the media attention has brought some. He is suddenly, adorably uncomfortable and humbly pulls his shoulders up to his ears and looks to her for help. “How about Chef-As-Rockstar?” “Look, there is no line of groupies outside of the restaurant when I am leaving at 11pm. No one tries to hug me in Central Park.” He then turns the conversation to his clients, those who come to dine at the restaurant. He posits that going to a restaurant is better than going to a movie, because in a restuarant, you are part of the movie. Advising the culinary students in the audience, he points out the dilemma in seeking fame in the kitchen. “For every one who becomes famous, 100,000 are in the back peeling carrots.” 

Chef Eric & I share the opinion that the role of culinary school should not be a launching pad for stardom, and gradation does not equal chefdom, fame and fortune. Eric liberally uses analogies to illustrate his meaning. If someone wants to become an actor to be famous, he says, he will always suck. Its the person who gets on stage and performs beautifully every night, that brings something beautiful to this world that matters, even if fame passes them by.

I asked Eric what he would have been, had he not become a chef and without hesitation says, “a forest ranger.” The love of nature, fishing, hiking, of growing up in the woods; he says “I thought if I could not live passion #1, it would be cool to be paid for passion #2.” Certainly there is no fame or glamour in forestry. “There is no glamour in having your hands in the guts of a fish, either.” 

Le Bernadin
155 W 51st Street, New York, NY 
 
Astor Center
399 Lafayette St. New York, NY

Spring Vegetable Sauté

This is an excellent side dish that showcases spring peas and asparagus. I added some edamame too for added dimension of texture and flavor. Serve as a side dish for brunch, or as I did, at dinner with grilled lamb chops, malbec-fig reduction and Parmesan polenta.

Spring Vegetable Sauté
kosher salt
1 bunch asparagus
1 1/2 cup fresh, shelled peas (you can use frozen, too)
1 1/2 cup fresh, shelled edamame (you can use frozen here, too)
6T good quality butter (I like European butters, like Plugra, Lurpak or Kerrygold)
2 tablespoons minced shallot
1/4 cup buttermilk
about 1/8 cup mint leaves, torn into small pieces
about 1/8 cup flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped

1. Put a large pot of water on the stove and bring to a boil. Add enough kosher salt so that it tastes like the ocean. Sometimes, this takes cups of salt – fear not!

2. Clean your asparagus. To do this, snap off the bottom of the stalk, and discard (or save for flavoring vegetable stock, or making asparagus soup.) Then, use a vegetable peeler to peel the bottom half of the remaining stalk. Don’t go all the way up to where the flower starts, just get the tough fibrous peel off. Then, cut your spears into 1″ lengths, on the bias.

2. Set up an ice bath. Fill a large bowl with ice and add water.

3. Blanch your asparagus. When the water is at a full rolling boil, drop the asparagus pieces into the pot and wait until they just turn bright green, about 25 seconds. Scoop them out and drop them in the ice bath. This is easiest if you have some kind of basket or metal colander to lower into the pot of water. Otherwise, use a slotted spoon to fish out the veg.

4. Repeat step 3 with the peas.

5. Repeat step 3 with the edamame. You don’t want to blanch all the veg together, because they may need different amounts of time.

6. Drain the vegetables and set aside.

7. Meanwhile, in a sauté pan, melt the butter over low heat. When the butter fat solids just start to turn brown and smell a little nutty, throw in your shallots and cook until just soft, about 2 minutes.

8. Add all the vegetables, toss or stir to coat with the butter mixture and when everything starts to steam, add the buttermilk. Turn up the heat to medium and cook until the liquid evaporates.

9. Remove from the heat, taste and add salt if you need it. Toss in the mint and parsley and stir to evenly distribute. Serve hot.

Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey

by Mark Peterson

We met Stranahan’s Whiskey at the IACP opening night Gala at the Denver Art Museum. They were there, on the first floor, right when you walked in the door serving up something called a Colorado Cooler, a local mint julep of sorts, cold and refreshing. We were told that the museum frowned upon serving what it saw as shots of whiskey, so samples were available upstairs, straight from the barrel. So that’s where we went and were served a small pour from the spout of a large oak barrel with just a few drops of water to bring out the nuance. In that moment, Emily decided she liked whiskey.

Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey is made in downtown Denver. We wanted a bottle to take home as a souvenir and so we found the distillery on a map and walked over. Ben, one of the distillers, met us at the door and seemed a little surprised to have any visitors. But, after hearing our story of why we were there and how we had found him, he poured us a sample of single barrel and invited us farther in to see the distillery.

The Stranahan’s use a custom made combination pot-and-column still. Ben described the mash as being produced with selected yeasts for flavor, as opposed to the open fermentation used by others. He gave us a sample of the mash to try. It tastes tastes like a full-bodied ale, without the carbonation. Then he explains the distillation process and gives a sample of the full-strength alcohol before it is blended with water and barrel aged. It is clear and strong, no doubt,  but has a surprising amount of flavor and depth. Into the barrels it goes for the aging process and is numbered and racked in the adjoining aging room.

Ben led us to the aging room full of barrels and explained how the distillers select and blend barrels for each bottling run, which basically means a bunch of folks tasting from an assortment of barrels that are ready and blending the percentages so that what comes to the consumer in the bottle is just how they meant it to taste.

Back in the front room we sampled the blended whiskey. It is smooth and flavorful and everything that you could want from a superior spirit, made by hand with care. Each bottle you purchase is signed by the distiller that made it what they were listening to at the time. Distiller Jake was listening to Ry Cooder.

Next time you are in Denver, go down and visit the fine people at Stranahan’s, like Ben here. And, ask your local shop to stock the hand-crafted whiskey so that you don’t have to travel to far to get some. Better still.

Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey
2405 Blake Street
Denver, CO 80205
303-296-7440
www.stranahans.com

IACP Conference in Denver, Colorado

Mark & I have just returned from the International Association of Culinary Professionals’ annual conference and I am profoundly moved, inspired and changed by the people and plates that I met along the way. From the Denver’s mayor to fellow bloggers, cookbook authors, teachers and travelers that I had lunch with everyday, from as far away as Sweden and as near as Hoboken, each person I met was kind, committed and fascinated by the food we all eat.

This year’s theme was “Sustainability” and many of the speakers that I was audience to took their approach to a definition. The one I found most compelling was “Finding a way to live off the Earth’s interest, and not its capital,” as defined by Fred Kirschenmann, Ph. D., President of Stone Barns, organic farmer, Distinguished Fellow of the Leopold Center at Iowa State university and IACP scholar-in-residence. 

I had the priveldge of hearing Dan Barber, chef/owner of Blue Hill and Blue Hill at Stone Barns, speak lovingly of Eduardo Souza, a natural foie gras producer in southwestern Spain. Souza produces foie gras by allow the ducks to follow the natural gorging instinct initiated by the migration cycle, but his geese never evacuate. In fact, they attract wild geese to come and stay. Eduardo electrifies only the outside of the fences, to keep predators out. The geese are free to go, but they don’t. To hear Mr. Barber tell the story of passion, love and sacrifice brought tears to my eyes, like a perfect musical chord or the happy ending of a romantic story.

Chef Andoni Luis Aduriz, also from Spain, said “The new exotic is what’s local.” Through his translator, he talked about the global commitment we all must make – and that shopping at the farmer’s market isn’t enough, albeit a good start.

Whole Foods co-president and COO Walter Robb cited the Great Law of the Iroquois: ”In every deliberation, we must consider the impact on the seventh generation… even if it requires having skin as thick as the bark of a pine.”

There was some rumbling of perceived hypocrisy in the audience, but if we are realistic, isn’t mainstream America’s choice to buy from Whole Foods better than any non-sustainable, non-organic counterpart? According to this report from the Hartman Group, 67% of consumers buy products based on concerns about the environment or social well being, at least some of the time, although I heard that the latest figure is as high as 80%.

So change is afoot and we can be very academic about it. (Seriously, did I just quote a statistic??) Or, we can enjoy the fruits of labor of like-minded farmers, chefs and vintners. 

For instance, “green” wine is readily available in every price point from every wine-producing country, and I had the pleasure of tasting several, at 8:30 in the morning with Marguerite Thomas, travel editor at The Wine News and who writes a monthly column called The Intrepid Gastronome for the LA Times International Syndicate. A few nights before, we had dinner together and Marguerite lamented the archaic blue laws that prevent wine delivery to a hotel. Dinner was at the fabulous Lola Mexican Bistro in the Highlands neighborhood of Denver. 

Interesting how a group of like-minded individuals gathered for dinner could be so vastly different in temperament and manners. The very proper Marguerite, world-traveling gastonome and member of Les Dames d’Escoffier among other highly refined accolades, seated next to a effervescent turkey marketer from Saskatoon who knew how to have a good time and choose the perfect breast.

Also, I have to thank Chef Jen Jasinski and her general manager Beth Gruitch-Verucchi at Rioja Restaurant. Our dining experience was so flawless, I am planning an entire post dedicated to an interview with these two icons of sustainability and passionate palate.

Look forward also to Mark’s account of our tour of Stranahan’s Colorado Whiskey Distillery. (Ben: Watch your mailbox! We didn’t forget!!)

Thank you to Heidi Swanson of 101cookbooks.com and to Kathleen Flinn. You are both an inspiration to the world of food writing.

If you are new to the site, sign up to receive email updates by clicking the link on the top right so you’ll never miss another post, and comment often so I know what you’re thinking!

Finally, there are going to be some technical upgrades to the site and if you want me to geek out, drop me an email and I’ll let you know what I have planned post-graduation from culinary school which is on May 5th.

Keep cooking and keep reading and remember that our planet and our palate’s futures are in the making, so choose your ingredients accordingly.