when life gives you lemons, pour wine in your ice cream


Let me give you a little taste of what my life has been like lately. (Hint: not sweet and delicious, like the Riesling ice cream I made. That’s right, folks. I’m a fucking gourmet.)

A couple of weekends ago, I had an atypical Saturday that has somehow set the tone for all the days that followed. I saw my ex in the morning for the first time since our breakup and decided to go out that night to try to cheer up.

Somehow, my friends and I ended up at a horror-themed pub aptly named “The Crypt,” because it is where all civility and fun goes to die. There are about five cops lined up at the entrance in case someone tries to shoot/rape someone else.

We grabbed drinks—something sticky-sweet, bright red and full of bubbling dry ice, called the “Franken-berry”—and hit the dance floor. I don’t think “hit” is the right verb here—maybe, “slid between gyrating drunks who were carelessly slinging beer all over the floor.” I started dancing among the mob, and it wasn’t long before a stout, middle-aged Asian man found me and grabbed me around the waist.

These days, this is how we are courted. Men grab at us and thrust in a pseudo-rape fashion. It’s like we’ve regressed back to the days of cave-people.

photo c/o wheretoeatsavannah.com

photo c/o wheretoeatsavannah.com

I looked over at my friend and made my eyes as wide and panicked as possible. No—they were already like that. She, bless her heart, asked her dance partner if he had any friends who needed a girl to dance with.

“Yeah!” he replied, grabbing a pasty-white, lanky guy with a fuzzy, albino-translucent mustache and black clothing.

Oh, surely. Surely this man has a dance partner. Surely.

He quickly moved behind me and began thrusting against me like a dog stupidly mounting a pillow: all inane animal desire. I looked around in a panic. Any lesbians? Friends? Hello?


And then it happened. Mega-boner, I kid you not. He was literally raping me with clothes on. I could feel it poking me over and over again, expectantly.

OK, I thought. Drawing the line. Here’s the line. My anemic dance partner has totally surpassed it.

I pushed my way through the crowd, tears running down my cheeks. I was a little drunk, and a lot emotional. I glanced over at an androgynous midget, who casually cupped my ass before passing. (WHAT? WHAT.) I thought, This is actually a nightmare, and I’m never going to wake up.

Once I made it home around 3AM, I passed out and woke up two hours later to the sound of a female screaming. I wondered if it was my subconscious, but then I realized it was coming from next door. It was my neighbor getting laid.

The next morning, someone canceled plans with me for the second time, and I spent the day writing papers I had put off until the last minute.

So, what’s the point of all this? Well, if you’ve ever had a day like mine, there are two things you absolutely need: ice cream and alcohol. I decided to kill two birds with one stone by combining the two. Yes, fuck yes. Now let’s get down to business.

I screwed up the first batch because my ingredients curdled. I think it happened because I added whole eggs and not just egg yolks. So, if it looks like this, i.e. like baby vomit, toss it out.
Here’s what you’ll need:

• 1 3/4 c heavy cream
• 1 1/4 c whole milk
• 1 bottle Riesling (or any other sweet wine)
• 1/4 tsp. salt
• 6 egg yolks
• 1/2 c sugar
• A friend or family member with a Kitchen Aid and ice cream attachment

Put some pans/dishes/whatever in the freezer. You’ll pour the ice cream mixture into these to cool it down quickly and freeze it before mixing it. Blend your cream, milk, and half of the sugar in a pot over medium heat. In another pot over high heat, reduce a cup of wine down to about a fourth of its size. Reducing it will capture the flavor of the wine.


Whisk the egg yolks and remaining sugar in another bowl. Add in some of the hot milk mixture, to temper the eggs and prevent them from doing freaky things like scrambling. Then, add the egg mixture into the milk. Once it all registers at 180 degrees (my brother had a thermometer he used to test this for me, but, Christ, most people aren’t going to go to the trouble, so just guess), pour some of it into a small bowl in the fridge, and the rest into your containers that you’ve had in the freezer. Make sure to cover with plastic wrap.

I don’t know why it’s this complicated, but…just let it freeze for several hours.


Once the stuff in the freezer is frozen solid, take each container out and mix them all together until smooth. This is somewhat more painstaking than you’d think. Then, put it into your ice cream attachment, which has been freezing, too, and mix it for like 20 minutes, until enough air is incorporated into the ice cream so that it doubles/triples in size.


Like the BLOBBBB.

Freeze it some more. Eventually, you’ll be able to eat it. Fuck—I just remembered that we added in more wine at some point. Maybe before you pour the mixture into the containers, add another 1/4 c. Then drink the rest.


One thought on “when life gives you lemons, pour wine in your ice cream

  1. I really enjoyed reading this blog, very funny! I wish I had an ice cream maker for my kitchen-ade. I might get myself a an early gift after reading this recipe. Alcohol and ice cream, perfect! Thank you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s