Ice Cool

The Old Man is very fond of ice cream. Any time. Any where. This is what a dear niece marveled at when I told her we had been walking about in the teeth of a gale at a nearby harbour, all the while The Old Man enjoying a huge vanilla ice cream. I let him solo on that one and struggled to work out the identity of a small plump seabird, paddling out past the fishermen's buoys and pausing to wash itself while the waves did rise and the wind did blow. (Manx Shearwater??)

Whatever. So fond of the stuff is The Old Man, he has finally given in and bought an ice cream machine. And so now he experiments. Well, within limits, this is a man who buys vanilla wherever he goes. But the other weekend he did make a very excellent coffee ice-cream, one where you actually heat up the milk with the ground coffee in it before you strain that off and proceed to custard-making stage. It tasted very good but had the bonus effect of keeping The Old Man up all night with eyes on stalks. I shall remember that should I ever need to lash him to the mainmast by way of look-out duty.

I don't think we are getting coffee ice cream this weekend. I expect it will be... vanilla.