A bite of ... home

I spent late August and early September in the beautiful New England sunshine. Contrary to last summer the rain was at bay for most of my stay. I had a fill of my favourites – lobster from “the lobster connection,” “fried duck” from the local Thai place next to the high school, cocktails with my two favourite ladies, Dr. B and SU- C, and an assortment of Audrey treats.

On my end I did a little less cooking than normal due to dinner plans out with family and friends. However, I managed to make Audrey's favourite Rhubarb Cake from Yellow Bistro in Sydney, grill some delicious peaches with feta, blood orange vinegar, and candied bacon and a few other miscellaneous treats. Even though those peaches with the feta and candied bacon were legendary, it was the sexy salted caramel ice cream I made, which warrants it's own laud.

Now, realise – I don’t even really like ice cream. If I was captain of the dodge ball team and I had to pick players, cake, blueberry pie, even fruit salad would be first choices. I’ve always liked ice cream in small doses – and as an accoutrement to the star player – but never in the leading role. I know, I’m weird.

The salted caramel ice cream was one of the creamiest ice creams I’ve ever come across and while “salted caramel” may put a few people off, it was nothing less than divine. It wooed. It tempted. It literally begged to be eaten. When the spoon was placed in the mouth the eyes instantaneously closed, breathing slowed down and there were no distractions at all. Just like a “calgon, take me away" moment. Only better.