Ice Cream and Pickles, part II:

I know that my many, many readers have been perched on the edges of their seats, anxiously refreshing this page since I left you with that cliffhanger of a post on Thursday. As I'm sure you remember, I was plotting the many treats I would be making for the weekend, as well as dispelling any bogus baby bump claims. Believe me, all weekend I could feel you cheering me on, rooting for my doughs, dying to know the state of my picklage.

So I'll cut right to the chase, lest you wait any longer. Last weekend I made no less than three pies, two kinds of ice cream, and a batch of pickles. All in all, I had about 82% success rate, which at my school always counted for a solid A minus.

Keep in mind, though, there were some factors out of my control, such as the INSANE HEAT WAVE that led to some scantily clad cooking and a counter so hot that my pie dough was literally melting.

Here is a quick recap of what I learned this weekend:

Lesson #1: Ice Cream Should Be Frozen. 

This may seem obvious, but it's a crucial point. As you can see, the ice cream making went fine in the custard and churning stages. I even made the mint chocolate chip ahead of time and froze it overnight. But it was about halfway through churning the honey lavender after work on Friday, that I realized I would not have time to freeze it before serving, and it was soft serve consistency at best. Oh well, I thought, it will be fine. It's still tasty!

Mint Chocolate Deliciousness!

Fast forward 30 minutes later, to me sitting on the sweltering subway platform, pretending not to notice that my shopping bag was conspicuously leaking at my feet. That's right, folks. I do not own a cooler. I now know that a cooler is important when transporting ice cream to the upper east side, and much better at insulation than a j. crew shopping bag filled with ice. In fact, if you are traveling from brooklyn to the upper east side by subway with ice cream in tow, sans cooler.... you should probably be questioning your life choices.

This is either a very good, or a very bad reaction to my ice cream.

 In the end though, the mint chocolate chip ice cream was fantastic, if a little soft. And the honey lavender ice cream soup... was a casualty.

Lesson #2: Never wear white when pitting cherries

Also a no brainer, one would think. I guess I was so excited to use my new cherry pitter, that I may have squeezed with a little too much gusto at first (advanced splash shield technology, my arse!). After about three cherries I stripped down to my skivvies, covered everything in newspaper, and happily pitted sour cherries on the floor while watching the World Cup and drinking coronas. Yes, this is how I like to spend a Saturday afternoon.

But the real news is the result of the Fruit Pie Smackdown! It was a close call, but sour cherry pie squeaked past strawberry rhubarb with its winning hearts motif and original flavor. Plus, the sour cherry got bonus points for labor alone (I made sure to tell everyone I pitted each cherry by hand).

 The Contenders.

Who will it be?? Strawberry? Or sour cherry?!

Lorenzo also had a formative experience with a certain stone fruit.

The beast stalks its prey.

Lesson #3: Any time is pie time.

Feeling bad for strawberry rhubarb after it lost the Fruit Pie Smackdown, I decided to give it another go on Sunday for yet another picnic I would be going to. Well, I never made it to that picnic, but I did make the pie, which means... more for me!

Sunday's strawberry rhubarb pie was an even sadder performance. The kitchen was so sweltering with the oven on that I was seriously thinking about making the pie in my bedroom with the AC on. Some people might say, why make a pie at all when it is so hot out? To those people, I ask, where are your priorities? Really. You should be ashamed.

In any case, the pie dough quickly disintegrated as I rolled it out, and hovered in a state of matter between a liquid and a solid as I tried in vain to roll it, lift it, and crimp it. In some spots, it had clearly turned back into butter. All told, this is not the best looking pie I have ever made, so please do not judge me by the prettiness of my crust. But the important thing is, it tasted fantastic--though not quite sour cherry fantastic-- and a cold slice with whipped cream after my run Monday morning won first prize for best breakfast ever.

Epilogue:
I am three days into the strawberry rhubarb pie in my fridge, and I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. Also, I did make the much-hyped pickles, but I thought they needed a little more pickling time before making their debut. Pictures coming soon.