My older sisters could probably tell this family story better than I can, but I’ll do my best around the details.
Our home state of Michigan doesn’t always produce super-hot summers, but I seem to remember that year we lived through a string of sweltering, hot summer days.
I also think this story takes place after our parents’ divorce, because I believe I was about eight or nine years old. Further evidence to the divorce is I don't remember any “Daddy energy” in the cast of characters.
Instead, it was our Mom, and grandfather (aka: Papa) who created this magical summer day.
It was late in the afternoon. Mom came in the house with a big smile on her face, carrying two sizable brown paper bags. Our mom worked tirelessly throughout our childhood, so it was a little uncharacteristic of her to have so much bounce left in her step.
We of course, seeing the bags, rushed her. What had she brought home? What was the surprise in the bags?
When mom finally sat down at the dining room table, we all gathered around her. With bright eyes, she lifted from the bag what looked to us like a brown wooden bucket with some sort of metal attachment. The other bag seemed to simply hold groceries.
We were all a little disappointed, but even more curious about the brown, wooden bucket.
“What is that thing?” one of us asked, pointing to the bucket. ‘What do you do with it?”
My mom looked pretty proud of herself. With the eyes of a child, she said, while holding the bucket, “it’s an ice cream maker!” We’re going to make homemade ice cream tonight!”
At just the notion of making our own ice cream, my sisters and I were crazed!
We had no idea how you “made ice cream!” We BOUGHT ice cream from the local Quality Dairy. Or on special occasions Mom took us to Tastee Freeze – a popular restaurant specializing in soft serve ice cream.
But HOMEMADE ice cream? How do you do that??
Mom got up and carried the bucket and other brown bag into the kitchen. Of course, all four of us followed close behind her.
From the bag she pulled the simple ingredients that, with the help of the brown bucket, would turn into our first taste of heaven; homemade ice cream.
From the cupboard she took down the big, clay bowl she used to make cobbler filling and grabbed a much-used wooden spoon from the kitchen drawer.
I can’t remember exactly how the ice cream was made (’ve included a recipe.) But I remember it was cream, sugar, eggs and vanilla. And I think the custard was first cooked and cooled before she added it to the canister, housed in the brown bucket.
As the custard was cooling, our grandfather did the strangest thing. Our grandfather was best described as a stern, hardworking man with no room for “foolishness.”
But that day, he left the house, moving through the living with big broad happy steps announcing he was going to the store for the ice and salt.
“Ice and salt,” I thought. Did he say ice and salt? What a funny, magical day I thought, not knowing that the real magic was yet to come.
When Papa returned with the much-needed salt and ice, our party moved to the backyard.
Mom took the stainless-steel canister out of the center of the wooden bucket and removed the heavy handle. She then filled the canister with the cooled custard. When the top and the handle were securely in place, she put it back in the bucket.
Next came the ice and salt which Papa and Mom packed about the canister. And then Papa, sitting on a chair with the ice cream maker on a low table started to turn the big crank.
For my sisters and me It was like we were watching a Walt Disney movie. With eyes wide and our mouths slightly opened, we were mesmerized.
For what seemed like hours our grandfather turned that crank, stopping only to give us a turn on the crank. We could barely move it. He would smile and take over.
Mom stuck her head out our screened porch and asked Papa if the ice cream was ready. Papa slowly opened the top and pulled out the dasher.
And there it was!
That sweet cream had turned into the most luscious site.
Mom and Papa had made ice cream. I have never been more impressed with the adults in my family than on the day they took simple sweet cream and sugar and invented homemade ice cream!
And if this wasn’t enough, my Mom had one more trick up her sleeve. While Papa had been churning the cream, our mom had been slicing farm fresh peaches and macerating them with cane sugar.
When Papa brought the ice cream into the kitchen, Mom drained the peaches of their syrup and mixed the fruit into the frozen cream. She then told us the ice cream would have to sit in the freezer for a bit before we could have a taste.
I thought she would serve dinner first and then we’d get a taste of the homemade peach ice cream.
But this was summer. And in summer, the happiest time of the year, all rules go out the window.
With dinner dismissed, our Mom served up six small bowls of homemade peach ice cream. And gave me one of the happiest days of my childhood.
Like Beth and me, my bet is that you too have fun summer food memories. Go out and breathe in the summer air. Find, or revisit your peach ice cream moments.
And when you find them, please share with us.
In the meantime, we’ll leave you with a few recipes for homemade ice cream, ice cream makers and other summer fun stuff.
Peach Ice Cream
Ice Cream with an ice cream mixer
Ice Cream without a mixer
Ice Cream Makers
Some Summer Fun Ideas
· Summer festivals
· Summer movies in the park
· Jazz on the green
· Host a swim party
· Make ice cream sandwiches or frozen pops
· Make frozen coffee drinks
· Read a book by the pool
· Too hot for a mid-day picnic? Make it breakfast instead
How nice, we never did this. But, I bought an ice cream maker at a garage sale and could not figure it out.
😃
Home made ice cream is a summer staple. I have a very old Donvier 'machine' that does the trick and add whatever is in season, except for the Pina Colada one. That's for August's hottest days.
I love the personal nature of your story today. Another reminder of how food binds us.