cherry Tag

Goat cheese and cherry swirl ice cream

the goat cheese popping untimed and irregular bursts of mild saltiness and cheesy aroma that cuts and balance the sweetness, which then welcomes a current of tangy and floral compote of black cherries and honey

So some of you may already knew from my Instagram that I was forced onto a whiskey distillery tour in Scotland in spite of my lifelong disagreement with this confounding substance.  Although against contrary evidences, I could swear I exercised a generous though painful effort to have fun.  But ultimately, on a jam-packed five days excursion dead set on the sole purpose of hunting and gathering overpriced barley water and thus sidelining the other, infinitely more joyous activity of plowing into flocks of free-roaming sheep at every turn, it’s safe to assume that I absolutely did not.

And this brings us to today’s topic, Mary’s Milk Bar.  If there was any highlights at all in my five days of being unpaid escort, it had to be this highly acclaimed ice cream shop in Edinburgh, sitting just at the foothill against the backdrop of the magnificent Edinburgh’s Castle.  A fine quality creameries aside, what makes Mary’s Milk Bar attractive, to me at least, are her seasonal, unique profiles of unexpected flavors, pistachios and cardamom, orange and almond to name a few.  But I’m not going to focus on the flavors that she already perfected, instead, I want to remake one that I felt could improve to my likings, and that was one called goat cheese and honey.

Even through the cold barrier of the glass window, I could feel the strong attraction of this combination in my imagination, but when I actually tasted it, it fell softly on the promise.  The flavors of the goat cheese was very subtly blended into the smooth cream-base almost to the point of undetectability, which I guess I could understand, for goat cheese being such a pungent driver of tastes that too dominant of a presence could potentially ruin what is meant to be a sweet summer dessert.  But I couldn’t help but reimagining that instead of a smooth blend, the goat cheese should come as frozen bits of surprises scattered throughout a pure and dense cream base, popping untimed and irregular bursts of mild saltiness and cheesy aroma that cuts and balances the sweetness, which would make such an incredibly rich and intense ice cream that welcomes a current of tangy and floral compote of black cherries and honey.

I put my theory to the test.  And let me just say that if I had this with me everyday, I wouldn’t mind the fact that I was on a whiskey tour.

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cherry tomato vinaigrette and gorgonzola bruschetta

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Dear shrink, I’m… wondering if I can now be qualified for that zoloft + xanax prescription we talked about last time, you know, and let’s throw in a couple of diazepam for good measure while we’re at it?  I assure you that I have no previous record of substance abuse, in fact, I hardly drink alcohol for God sake, oh why because I’m naturally fun.  But you see, it’s my kids… my kids who are competing in a race to my emotional hell by turning rotten-sick on me one after the other.  Oh HELL, it’s even making me babble uncontrollably about it on my food-blog, right, a FOOD-blog that’s supposed to be about escaping to gastronomic neverland,  not… Anderson Pooper on real world shit…  Damn it!  What the hell am I talking about, you see?  I need meds!

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my road back to alcoholism

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I’ve got a lotta nerve coming here telling you about a cocktail. Because if you ever had the pleasure of meeting me in real life, the first couple of things you’d pick up before too late is A). you didn’t really find it a pleasure at all and, B). Uh-hum… I don’t drink. Wooh-oh wait, that’s not entirely accurate. More like, I don’t drink ANYMORE. (Gaaasspp~ AA!!) Pfffff, sorry no. I wish the story was that interesting. The thing is, I was no different than any rule-abiding youngsters out there who at the height of their kick-ass erra, drank for absolutely no apparent reason just to wake up with my neck flaccidly draping over the rim of any my toilet soiled in… well yeah (the number of shower I pulled off safely under this no-state of mind was pretty impressive in retrospect). Then at the first grasp of any level of consciousness to speak of, swore to lay off this demonic fluid for the rest of her life only to have the blur repeat itself the next Friday and, one morning… I actually did. For good.

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The Wicked Black Forest

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Is it too late in our relationship to declare that I’m not into chocolate?  Should I have said that on the first date along with things weighing the same importance like “I have 10 children”… or “I have herpes” (just for argument sake… I totally don’t btw).  Well, to me the thing with chocolate is that instead of being mystified with grand illusions like “indulgent”, “decadent”, “sinful”, “love~” (more?) “AMOoUUR~~” or whatever, it just tastes sort of… bitter to me.

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