Gianduja Ice Cream
Gianduja is Italian for “Holy Mother of God this tastes so amazing it has to be immoral.”
Gianduja is Italian for “Holy Mother of God this tastes so amazing it has to be immoral.”
The real meaning isn’t actually that far off.
Gianduja is the name of a character originally created by a Genovese puppeteer, that subsequently became widely used in the Italian Commedia del’arte. This form of theater was popular from the 16th to 18th centuries, and featured stock characters in various scenarios, sort of like an old-timey sit-com. Gianduja means “John of the jug”. Fitting, as he loved his drinking. And eating. And pretty women.
Damn-the-consequences hedonism. Just like this ice cream.
Gianduja became the official carnival mask of Turin, the same city where an enterprising chocolatier mixed ground hazelnuts into his chocolate to extend his stock when cocoa supplies were short (Thanks, Napoleon!) and discovered it was fucking delicious. He named this confection Gianduja in honor of his city.
Two hundred years later, despite millions of dollars of research, scientists have been unable to determine just why it is so damn delicious. Some things are best left as mysteries, no?
John of the Jug. And Johnny of the Jug? And… their dog, I guess?
In any case, I love this stuff, so I made it into ice cream.
I will pause here for a cookbook recommendation. Chocolates and Confections by Peter Greweling, CMB, published by The Culinary Institute of America. This book is 1. gorgeous, 2. comprehensive as pertains to all things candy-like, 3. filled with actual science.
Perfect. Buy it.
I bring it up because it explains many things about gianduja - the home food processor method, the praline paste method, and what a commercially-produced gianduja gets you: namely, an already tempered, silky-smooth product.
For my first batch, I elected to go with the commercially available stuff. After a quick search online, I found some dark chocolate gianduja from Valrhona. Sold.
In the interest of full disclosure, my first batch was an utter fail. I tried for eggless gelato that wound up tasty, but icy and grainy. Blah. I am becoming more convinced that even my fancy-pants Italian ice cream machine doesn’t churn fast enough to make a truly smooth eggless, low-butterfat gelato.
My next attempt simply tweaked the standard ice cream custard (2 cups cream : 1 cup milk : 6 egg yolks). Because of the fats I was adding in the gianduja, I reversed the cream/milk ratio and backed off on the egg yolks by one. The custard was gorgeous, and I knew the ice cream would be smooth, creamy, and amazing.
It was.
Custard, thickening.
Shit You Need
8 ounces gianduja, commercially made, or otherwise.
5 large egg yolks
2 cups whole milk
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 tsp fine sea salt
1 tsp vanilla extract
This is what “thick enough to coat the back of a spoon” actually means. You’re welcome.
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
Separate egg yolks into a medium-sized mixing bowl and set aside.
Cut gianduja into chunks, just small enough to help it melt. It’s a surface area to volume thing, says Dr. Science.
Heat milk, cream, sugar and salt in a medium saucepan (a saucier, if you have one) until steaming. Whisk the gianduja into the cream mixture, and continue whisking at a low simmer until it is fully melted and the mixture is uniform.
Whisk the egg yolks, and while whisking, pour the cream mixture in a steady stream until about 1/3 has been transferred, then reverse, pouring the egg mixture back into the cream while whisking the cream.
Return the pan to medium-low heat and cook gently until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (see helpful photo) - or about 180 degrees on an instant-read thermometer. It will be glossy and silky and fucking gorgeous.
Strain the custard through a fine mesh strainer into a clean bowl.
If you don’t plan on churning the custard until tomorrow, you can carefully place a piece of cling film right on top of the liquid (preventing a skin from forming, thereby fucking up your carefully strained mixture). Let cool at room temperature, then refrigerate overnight.
If you are jonesing for some ice cream later today, then put that bowl in a larger bowl filled with ice, and stir as it rapidly cools. This is the “stir over an ice bath step” you see in various recipes. Once cold, add the piece of cling film and refrigerate for 4 hours.
Churn in your ice cream machine per the manufacturer’s directions.
If you happen to have some Nougat de Montelimar, chop the shit out of it and sprinkle over the top when serving.
NdM (Nougat de Montelimar)
If you’re like most people, nougat is almost a joke. It sounds funny when you say it (nu-git) and it’s nothing but the shit you have to get through before you hit the caramel in a Milky Way.
Holy Mother of God…it’s…
Nougat de Montelimar.
*salivates heavily
If you’re like most people, nougat is almost a joke. It sounds funny when you say it (nu-git) and it’s nothing but the shit you have to get through before you hit the caramel in a Milky Way.
But this nougat is pronounced nu-gah and it is no joke.
Twenty years ago I took a trip to France, and while there I visited a candy store. Now, let me erase the vision in your head of what you think a candy store is and paint a different picture. Imagine a room 30 feet deep and half as wide. It’s soaked in April sunlight which gleams off its marble floors. The tiles, though clean enough to eat from, have softened edges from decades of foot traffic. Through a door to a back room, you see copper kettles, each the size of a Prius. The air is filled with the scent of sugar and honey and chocolate and toasted almonds.
You approach a glass cabinet, filled with confections you do not recognize. Each one is a precious gem, a work of art. This is a palace of the sugar arts. A museum where the art is for sale and you can shove it in your face. This is a French candy shop.
This is what I walked into on that April day, and my mind was blown. I bought one of everything. Each one I ate, I admired its form, analyzed the flavors, puzzled over its ingredients. Each new morsel transported me to a rarified plane.
I thought of previous empty calories wasted on insipid flavors and vowed “Never again. No fucking way.” My life had changed.
Of all the the treats I sampled, one stood apart. It was called Nougat de Montelimar, a confection made with honey, whipped egg whites, and almonds. It became a bit of an obsession.
During the ensuing months, I tried to find it for sale in the US and couldn’t. I tried to find recipes online. This was twenty years ago, when there were two food blogs in existence and neither one had done Nougat. I came up similarly empty in my search of cookbooks. But I did find a recipe for torrone - a similar Italian candy, albeit with a slightly different consistency. In fact, I learned that there are many versions of this confection. Like many completely-fucking-amazing culinary discoveries, it spread from one place to the next, adopting unique local nuances along the way.
The Italians have torrone, the French nougat, the Spanish turón. The recipe spread to Europe via the Middle East, but may have even more ancient origins in central Asia.
I started trying things. That recipe for torrone? Too hard (texture-wise, not difficulty level). Plus it lacked a crucial component of NdM: lavender honey. I experimented more. I found a blog on the science of candy and learned some things about sucrose and dextrose, the Maillard reaction, sugar solutions and the water content at different temperatures.
One of the hitches was texture. The NdM I had had cracked if you bit into it fast, and chewed if you bit slowly. And at mouth temperature, it was all chewy and melty, with those crunchy bits of toasted nuts in the mix. Clearly some sort of sorcery was at work.
I’ll spare you the minute by minute description of the next three years. Suffice it to say that I mad a LOT of candy and tried a LOT of things until finally I got the taste right, and lo and behold, I had finally gotten a handle on that elusive texture.
I felt like God’s Idiot stumbling onto a treasure.
These days, you bastards have it easy. There are dozens of recipes out there for NdM. I had to fight for this one every step of the way. But because I am “self taught” this one may look different than the other ones you find through Mr. Google. This one gives me everything I want, including consistent results.
In France, they use giant copper kettles and stir the confection over flames for hours. You, however, are in luck. My recipe only requires a stand mixer, two heavy saucepans, and one big-ass metal bowl.
And wafer paper. This is an edible potato starch paper you can find in specialty cake and confectionary stores, typically in 8x10 sheets. It works great. The only problem is that the NdM I had in France was sandwiched in this diamond-embossed, delicate, cool-ass wafer paper, and I couldn’t find that stuff anywhere.
Sexy-ass wafer paper.
So back in the day, I did what anyone would do, and obsessed over it, searching online until I found the company in Holland that made it. I called them to ask who their North American distributor was. They didn’t have one.
But the lovely lady on the phone asked why I needed the wafer paper. I replied, “Nougat de Montelimar.”
“You know how to make it?”
“Yes, actually, I do.”
“Well,” she said. “We can’t sell you any, but we could send you some sample paper if you like…in exchange for a little nougat from your batch.”
Once I recovered my composure I said sure, sure, yeah, no problem. Still not really believing that they would actually send me wafer paper for free…or for nougat.
But you know what? They fucking did! And not just a little. A LEGIT PALLET of the stuff. And now I have enough to last for…ever.
Dude. That isn’t even all of it.
And you know what? If you swing by my place I will gift you some wafer paper. In exchange for a bottle of Pappy’s.
Now let’s make us some NdM.
Shit You Need
a 6 quart stand mixer. If you have a smaller one, you may need to cut the quantities down or risk hot candy on your counter, your floor, your jeans.
10 grams dried egg whites
30 grams sugar
2 egg whites
1/2 tsp salt
250 grams lavender honey - Be careful. You want the honey from lavender flowers, not regular honey with lavender essence added. I’ve been fooled! But if you can’t get lavender honey, regular honey works. In fact, I’ve used orange blossom honey with fantastic results.
700 grams sugar
500 grams corn syrup
100 grams water
1 vanilla bean, scraped (reserve the seeds for sone kick-ass creme bruleé)
4 Tbs melted butter - not much considering the batch size, but it helps with texture
600 grams blanched almonds
300 grams raw pistachios
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
Clear your schedule. Put your phone on Do Not Disturb. There will be split-second timing and lava-hot sugar all up in here.
Toast your pistachios and almonds lightly in a 350 degree oven. They will toast a bit more in the lava hot sugar, so no need to go overboard.
Decrease oven temp to 250 degrees. Pile all your toasted nuts into one huge-ass metal bowl, and place in oven to keep warm. No going off the rails with “keep my nuts warm” jokes. Stay with the program.
In the bowl of a 6 quart stand mixer with the whisk attachment, mix together 30 grams of sugar with the dried egg whites, add the 2 egg whites, mix a minute or two on medium, and let sit to hydrate.
Melt the butter and set aside.
Place the honey in a small saucepan. Add the corn syrup, sugar, water, and vanilla bean husk to a medium saucepan, preferably one with a lip to balance on the edge of your mixing bowl later.
Here comes the timing part: Cook the honey over high heat with a candy thermometer in place. When it reaches 225 degrees, turn the mixer on to its highest setting to begin whipping the egg whites. Once they foam, add the salt.
When the honey reaches 250 degrees, turn off the heat, transfer the thermometer to the medium saucepan and start cooking the sugar mixture on high heat.
Pour the honey into the whipping egg whites in a slow, steady stream. Leave the whites and honey whipping on high.
When the sugar mixture reaches 280 degrees, turn off the heat, pluck out the vanilla bean, and begin pouring into the whipping mixture in a steady stream.
Add the melted butter. The nougat will fly out of the bowl and paint your walls if you try to do this all at once at full speed, so turn it down a little at first, then go back to high speed as the butter is incorporated.
The mixer may strain a little as you go. Tell it to buck up, it won’t be much longer. Basically, once you have a smooth mixture, add it to the warm bowl of nuts.
Mix with a wooden spoon or stiff silicone spatula. This is hard work and the bowl can be hot, so have a couple of potholders handy. Helpers are good, but I am usually alone, so I use one potholder on the edge of the bowl and brace it against my ribs as I stir.
Have your wafer paper ready, face down on a flat surface like a cutting board or countertop. Pour the nougat mixture onto the center. It won’t be lava-hot at this point, so your countertop should be safe.
Two options: you can press it flat gently with gloved (and lightly oiled) hands and then lay the second piece of wafer paper on top - it will feel hot, so be careful; or you can just go ahead with the wafer paper, knowing it’s not going to get into the corners and will mush a bit more out the sides. I’m personally fine with that - it lends authenticity or whatever.
Take a sheet pan and press gently over the top, encouraging the nougat to flow where you want it to go. You can also take a rolling pin to encourage flow to the corners, but be careful not to put too much downward pressure on the pin, as it will rip the wafer paper. Once the nougat is about 3/4 of an inch thick and reasonably flat, allow it to cool completely.
Find someone to cut it for you while you sip a fine bourbon. Direct your helper to the tips and tricks on cutting, below.
Place the second sheet of wafer on top and gently flatten. Also, isn’t this fucking gorgeous?
Notes on cutting:
The same thing that makes this texture so perfect also makes it hard to cut. The dudes who do this for a living (nougatiers) use a special table saw to cut it, but you don’t have one of those, do you? Damn. Neither do I.
If you press down hard with your knife, it will fracture. Which is fine unless you want it in those delicious little bricks. Which I do.
Use a serrated knife and steady pulling strokes to get through the long cuts. Be patient. Cut crosswise into bite-size pieces. Or two-bites-sized if you are a more delicate nosher.
Those extra bits that you cut off to even up the ends are the property of the person running the knife. They must be eaten as you work or the universe tips out of balance. It’s a science thing.
Notes on Corn Syrup:
Corn syrup is a type of glucose syrup, and is included here for two reasons: it inhibits crystallization of the sugar (sucrose) in solution, and contributes to the texture of the final product. Now, prepare yourself for facts.
You hopefully already know that corn syrup is not high-fructose corn syrup. Nope. Two different products. For HFCS they take a glucose syrup and enzymatically convert some of the glucose to fructose. They do this because fructose is sweeter and therefore more cost-effective in commercial products. It also might be handled differently by the body, but it’s still unclear if it’s worse than the many hidden sugars we consume in our diet.
But I digress.
Here in America, with our amber waves of grain, we have a lot of corn. So the most readily available kind of glucose syrup is corn syrup. In Europe, home bakers will buy “glucose syrup” which might be made from corn, rice, or potatoes. And if you Google enough, you might find “glucose” or “dextrose” syrup from commercial baker’s supply vendors here in the good ol’ US of A. What to do with all these choices? Is there a difference between them all? What the fuck is a DE (dextrose equivalent)?
Glucose is a mono-saccharide with two forms - mirror images of one another, you might say. The L-isomer is uncommon in nature. It tastes the same, but because it is “backwards”, can’t be used by our cells for energy. “They” (the overlords - you know, the same ones who brought us HFCS) once gave it a run as a calorie-free sweetener, but alas, it was super expensive to synthesize. The D-isomer is of glucose is dextrose: the fuel currency of nature. So, are glucose and dextrose the same? Yes-ish.
Glucose syrup is made from the enzymatic hydrolysis of starch, whatever the source. The typical composition will be 20% dextrose, 14% or so maltose (a di-saccharide), and 11% maltotriose (a tri-saccharide). The remainder with be oligosaccharides - in other words, incompletely busted-up starches. The dextrose equivalent - DE - of this kind of syrup is 20.
But you can also get more completely hydrolyzed versions of glucose syrup - typically with a dextrose equivalent of 40. These will be sweeter, but also potentially more consistent for commercial bakers, hence their manufacture.
If you are in a place where your grocery store sells “glucose syrup”, it should be nearly identical to the corn syrup on the shelves in the US. Substitute it 1:1.
If you happen to have glucose syrup with a DE of 40, you might need to play with the recipe a bit. I would start with 300 gm and see how it goes.
Uses:
I usually just wrap the pieces in cello wrap and pack them in boxes to give to friends around the holidays. And eat a shit-ton myself.
Delicious little bastards.
But there are a few other uses to consider. For instance - if you freeze it and shatter it with a mallet, it makes a kick-ass topping for a sundae. Or how about in a semifreddo? Stirred into a cake frosting? Nougat ice cream???
Other thoughts:
You can cut quantities in half without a problem. This recipe is sized for holiday consumption.
My stand mixer holds 6 quarts and has 575 watts of power. A smaller bowl may be too small to safely hold this recipe, so cut back. A wimpier motor will definitely strain, so you may need to switch out to the paddle attachment when in starts whining.
My wafer paper is 15x15in, and while I do have a frame that size, I generally just freestyle it. If you want borders around your nougat, you can put 8x10 wafer paper in a silicone baking pan. If you put it in a metal pan, oil it.
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Good.
Honey Olive Oil Gelato
If you don’t believe me that olive oil ice cream is a thing, simply ask Mr. Google. I did the research myself and discovered that, apparently, it is fucking fabulous.
Luscious. Just like me.
If you don’t believe me that olive oil ice cream is a thing, simply ask Mr. Google. I did the research myself and discovered that, apparently, it is fucking fabulous.
Making it myself was a moral imperative.
I was inspired by Meredith Kurtzman’s gelato recipe as described in Molto Gusto by Mario Batali and Mark Ladner.
But I also thought, “What about a little honey in there?” No too much - honey could easily overpower the delicate flavors of olive oil. But just a touch, I thought, would complement it.
I never get tired of being right.
You need some really really really good olive oil for this. Not some shit that you found in the back of your cabinets. Definitely not the “good stuff” you got three years ago and have been saving because it’s so special.
Olive oil goes rancid, folks. The shelf life is about 18 months, and after opening, a month or two. If I catch you putting rancid oil in anything I will have words with you.
”Have words” is code for “call you a motherfucker and kick you in the gonads”. Just FYI.
Olive oil tasting. One had gone rancid and was chastised as an example to the other olive oils, then thrown away. I ended up going with the one on the left. It was leafy and spicy and super yummy.
Next, let’s talk honey. You don’t need much, so make it count. I used Tupelo honey- it’s a special thing in South Carolina, where I am currently sheltering.
Tupelo honey has delicate sweetness and floral aroma. I know this because I tasted and smelled it (The more you know…). In the recipe, I started with just 2 tablespoons, tasted the custard, then added a touch more until I could barely detect the honey over the eggs and vanilla. Perfect.
Whatever honey you use, taste it first. Adjust. Taste the custard. Adjust. You are creating your own masterpiece. You do you.
Lastly, salt. You know that post I did on salt where I talk about using finishing salt on sweets? Bitch, the time has come!
Break out your fleur de sel and add a generous sprinkle when serving.
You’ll thank me.
I never get tired of that, either.
Shit You Need
8 egg yolks
1 cup, minus 2 Tbs, sugar. Or, however much honey you add, subtract in sugar.
3 cups milk
1 1/2 cups cream
2 Tbs plus 2 tsp honey. Adjust for your particular honey as previously described. Oh, so you thought you could just skip to the recipe without reading all the bullshit I write? You thought wrong, motherfucker!
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/2 tsp fine sea salt
1/4 cup very fine quality extra virgin olive oil. The best shit you can afford. Taste it first. Make sure it tastes fresh overall, and that it carries the flavors you want in your final gelato - grassy, nutty, spicy, etc.
Fleur de sel or other super bitchin’ finishing salt
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
In a medium-sized mixing bowl, whisk together egg yolks with 1/4 cup sugar. Set aside.
In a medium saucepan (preferably saucier, if you have one) heat milk, cream, salt, and remaining sugar on medium heat. Stir to dissolve the sugar.
When the milk mixture begins to simmer, remove from the heat. While whisking the yolks constantly, slowly add about a third of the hot milk. Then pour the egg mixture into the pan, again, while whisking constantly.
Return the pan to medium-low heat and gently cook, while stirring, until the mixture reaches 180 degrees Fahrenheit on and instant-read thermometer.
Remove from the heat and strain mixture into a mixing bowl. Add vanilla.
Optional - stir over an ice bath to cool. I think the purpose of an ice bath is to cool the mixture evenly and prevent weird texture things from happening. I’ve done it this way, and I’ve just thrown it in the fridge to cool, and so far haven’t noticed a difference.
Cover with plastic wrap, letting it settle directly on the surface of the custard. Cool in the refrigerator overnight.
The next day, churn in your ice cream maker per the manufacturer’s directions.
In the last 10 minutes of the churn, add the olive oil.
Serve after a few hours in the freezer, or stick your face right in the ice cream maker (unplug first - please learn from my experience).
Sprinkle with salt, and have at it.
Super sexy, amIright?
Toasted Coconut Ice Cream
Some people do not like coconut. It’s one of the grim realities I have had to accept in this life.
Shown here with Gordon Ramsay’s brownies. Yo, Gordon, thanks for sending these. They were super good.
Some people do not like coconut. It’s one of the grim realities I have had to accept in this life. Those people are monsters, of course, and I will not associate with them.
For the rest of us, there is this toasted coconut ice cream.
When it comes to custard style ice cream, I am what you might call an enthusiast. Or you might call me an extremist. Or zealot. Sorbets just leave me unsatisfied and pissed off. Like, “Why the fuck did I just waste my time with that shit when I could have had fucking ice cream???” And even “Philadelphia” style ice creams made without eggs get a little thin and icy for my taste.
For that is the purpose of egg yolks in ice cream: along with butterfat and churn speed, they inhibit ice crystal formation, resulting in tiny crystals and therefore smooth, creamy, knee-trembling greatness. What about gelato, you say? Well, there are many types of gelato, and some of them use egg yolks. The ones that don’t use eggs typically use a stabilizer of some sort to inhibit crystal formation and keep the product smooth.
The main difference between gelato and ice cream is in the butterfat. Ice cream uses more, gelato less. Because butterfat makes incorporating air during churning easier, ice cream is less dense, gelato more dense. And modern gelato makers usually use commercial churners with paddles that minimize air incorporation, doubling down on the whole density factor. A swoopy versus scoopy dessert. For more on gelato, see this excellent article in Saveur.
What we have below is a custard-style ice cream. It’s milk and cream and egg yolks coming together in pure mouth-coating decadence…and that is the fucking point, is it not?
My first custard wasn’t a wild success. It was a little chunky and gross. But once I committed to 1. attentiveness and 2. patience, it went great. Go slow, keep stirring, watch the thickening process and/or temperature. Besides, if that shit goes pear-shaped on you, remember that you’re going to strain it later. That process will hide minor faults…like partially scrambled eggs.
And it’s not like this could possibly taste bad. Cream, sugar? Bitch, please.
Once you get the custard thing down, a whole world of flavor opens up to you. Steep whatever you want in that hot cream (like the coconut below) and make an infusion! Vanilla bean? Check. Earl Gray tea? Sure! Rosemary? Why the hell not?
Nuff said. Let’s do this.
I Googled “pornography” once. I expected to see photos like these, but there were people in the pictures. It was super weird.
Shit You Need
6 egg yolks
1/4 cup sugar
1/8 tsp fine sea salt
1 1/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut
1 cup whole milk
2 cups heavy cream
1 tsp vanilla extract
One 14 oz can coconut cream. This is not the coconut milk you use for curries. This is the stuff you find in the mixer section that you use for piña coladas. It gives this ice cream (almost) all the sugar it needs.
A well-coated spoon - note the coconut bits. Extra credit if you can spot a fern in the corner of my kitchen.
Keep Calm and justeffingcook
Gird your loins. You’re making custard.
Separate your eggs (save the whites for something else) and set aside the yolks in a medium-sized non-reactive bowl.
In a heavy bottomed saucepan (a saucier if you have one), add your milk, cream, sea salt, and 1/4 cup of the coconut. Simmer until the sugar is dissolved, about 5 minutes.
In the meantime, whisk your egg yolk, getting them ready for some hot cream action.
While whisking the egg yolks constantly, pour the hot cream in a thin, steady stream until you’ve added about a third of the cream mixture. Then reverse: slowly pour the egg yolk mixture back into the pan while whisking. Doing it this way helps prevent you scrambling those eggs and winding up with a semi-coagualted, chunky, gross mess.
Return the pan to the stove and heat on medium low. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon (not sure why it needs to be wooden, but I I fear fucking up custard so I always do it), until the mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (see handy photo). I like to check with a thermometer as well, aiming for a temp of 180 degrees F.
Strain into a bowl through a fine-mesh strainer. “Oh no, you’re straining out the coconut!” you say. Chill, we’re adding it back later. Now, literally chill…the custard in the refrigerator. At least 4 hours, but ideally overnight. Tap a little plastic wrap right down to the surface of the custard to prevent a weird jello-pudding film from forming.
The next day (or later that day if you are so goddamned impatient), Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Toast the remaining 1 cup of the shredded coconut until golden brown and set aside to cool.
Churn the chilled custard in your ice cream machine per the manufacturer’s directions. About ten minutes from the end of churn time, add in the toasted shredded coconut. Chill in the freezer for a full set, or stick your face right in the machine for instant gratification. Pro-tip: turn the machine off first.
This was about five seconds after the first photo in the post.