Adorn your flavoursome version of this kitsch extravaganza which, in this instance, comes from a quite corner of the modest English countryside where it meets a back-in-the-day, jolly-fine-smack-on-the-back-calypso-vibe.
It’s use-y-upsey time again. Pre prepared mango and a very ripe pineapple or two, all threatened with the compost heap, were therefore easily coerced into a flavoursome frozen dessert. The fruits were whizzed in a processor, and I cannot foresee any obvious reason why canned or defrosted-from-frozen couldn’t be gifted comparable treatment. I prefer a small amount of texture rather than industrial perfection, as ever, taste, taste, taste..
Into a food mixer:- A lonesome tub of thick cream – 300g, some good quality store-bought vanilla custard-400g and a can of coconut milk, (full fat of course)-400g. They were joined for a turn or two with a carefree squidge of golden syrup, the zest of a wax-free lime, a thoroughly decent splash of vanilla essence, and a tiny waft of salt.
Swiftly whipped into shape, a collision of texture and flavours as the fruit and creamy base were well combined. It will come as no surprise that shortly after the two were married, and went on to live happily ever after. Having honeymooned in suitable lidded freezer container, said freezer now considered their tropical freezer box, of a paradox home. I split the batch into 4 smaller freezer containers and also whizzed some of the batch through the ice cream machine. I’m delighted to report that there was no significant difference between the whizzed and non whizzed versions in my time and motion (maybe taste) study…
Ladies and gentlemen we have for your kind consideration:- a rather generous (user upper in my case), handcrafted, small batch, no machine, ice cream. It’s spiffing stuff.
What’s this, you say? Hints of warmer weather? (In a thigh slapping Amateur Dramatic tone of voice) Clouds scudding the baby blue sky? No surprise when junior and junior ring to say that they will be heading homeward for the weekend. The tea boy springs into action, well lifts his head from typing a mortifyingly awkward document and nods when I suggest a bbq. When he eventually removes his head from his dark place he will default into to his ‘man and fire’ mind-set. Of course, I will do all the donkey work and will also dig out his superman tee-shirt, you know the comfy one with all the spark burns and scorch marks? Oh best find his swashbuckling tongs and ‘sundry weaponry’ and whip’m through the dishwasher too.
Just a thought: Women seemingly make a little time and effort to preen before entertaining or heading out yet so many of their men look as if they’ve just finished lagging the loft? It’s just my observation? “Oh hello dear, busy day?” (hint/stifles irrepressible mirth)!
The mood lifting hue of this creamy, cool, earthy yellow creme will become a walloper of cocktail pud? Tall glasses, scoops of the ice cream, doused in white rum, no, no, perfect lie, a gentle trickle of sophisticated dark rum ( yes, I know you know the truth of the matter) Top with… No not pineapple juice? Umm no, not cola….. We are not great cola-ist’s…Ting! Oh I know…. Cream soda.
Oh my daze! How frightfully Haute 1960’s? Time to deploy all the artistic licence of a gaudy cocktail kitchen kitsch.
A dolly brolly, butterflies, flamingoes, windmills, rah-rah kick on a cocktail stick too! All that crass tosh and slosh.
Fruits and dipsy, dippy stuff for ‘garnishing and dunking’ generally equal good times.
Hardly the pud to serve to visiting dignitaries, though on reflection, I’m not so sure …..