The ice cream was easy enough to pull together, as the recipe I used did not include egg yolks. Sugar, dairy, and a bit of food-processing later, I had a milky mixture sitting in the refrigerator awaiting its time in the ice cream machine.
Go, chopper, go!
With the main event chilling away, I began my prep for the puffs. The recipe I used suggested using a hand mixer as an alternative to transferring from stove to mixer bowl, so I seized the opportunity to use mine -- or rather, the one I "borrowed permanently" from my mother. It's used so rarely these days, I had almost forgotten why.
When the sticky dough was complete, I remembered why this little tool has fallen to the wayside after the advent of the stand mixer: those beaters are the biggest pain to clean. Nonetheless, they mixed my dough to perfection, so I'll call it a small price to pay.
Once mounded on the baking sheet, in they went.
Next time: higher mounds!
In case you're wondering, once again I had a furry audience of one looking on as I worked. Perkins is growing by the moment, it seems, and his coat is between the kitten fluff stage and a more adult-like fur, leaving him cute but a little rough around the edges.
Anything in there for me?!
Half an hour later, I pulled these golden beauties out to cool, halve, and freeze.
After spending a lovely day with my parents, I assembled and served my profiteroles. I'm very pleased to report that they didn't last long, and that the ice cream in particular was a hit. Note to self: make that again!
It was nice to get back to baking, after a prolonged period of only cooking. Something about the rhythm of baking, the precision needed to execute a recipe, is still what keeps me coming back and gives me the courage to attempt new things. It's an attitude I'm trying to apply to the rest of my life in the face of some setbacks. At the very least, I know I can curl up with a good book, purring cat, and dish of delicious homemade ice cream!