Aileen's Food Processor Chocolate Mousse

Adapted from Classic Cakes and Other Great Cuisinart Desserts by Carl G. Sontheimer and Cecily Brownstone (Hearst Books, 1994)

Serves 6 to 8

I learned this recipe from Lewis long before I noticed that a very similar recipe, attributed to Aileen, appears in Classic Cakes and Other Great Cuisinart Desserts under the name Mourêmes au Chocolat.

Lewis told me Aileen traveled across the country with Carl Sontheimer, giving demonstrations of a new kitchen marvel—the Cuisinart. Adapted from the Robot Coupe, a commercial food processor used in French restaurants, it brought professional efficiency into the home and launched a cooking revolution.

This recipe is not a classic mousse, but it’s still the best word to describe it. It’s rich and smooth with a surprisingly silken texture once chilled. I use chocolate between 64% and 70% cocoa.

When you pour the mixture into ramekins or a serving bowl, it seems far too liquid to work—but after an overnight chill, its texture sets into something thick, elegant, and deeply satisfying. Because it’s so rich, small servings are ideal. I either put it into individual ramekins or into a single bowl to serve from.

Caution: The eggs in this recipe are not cooked, so make sure they are from a source you trust. Do not serve this to anyone with a compromised immune system, including the very old and the very young.

½ cup sugar
½ cup water
2 large eggs, at room temperature
Pinch of salt
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate (chips or hand-chopped)
2 tablespoons Cognac or 4 tablespoons Kahlúa (optional)
1 cup cold heavy cream
Whipped cream for serving (optional)

Put the sugar and water in a small saucepan and boil until dissolved into a simple syrup.

Put the eggs and a pinch of salt into the food processor fitted with the metal blade. Process until blended.

Add the chocolate and process again. The mixture may look lumpy; don’t worry.

With the machine running, pour the still-hot syrup through the feed tube. Process until the chocolate is fully melted and the mixture is smooth. Transfer this to a clean bowl and set aside.

Without washing the food processor bowl, pour in the cold cream and process until it (sort of) whips.

Add the chocolate mixture back to the bowl with the whipped cream, along with the liqueur if using. Process again until smooth. The mixture will be thin—like chocolate milk—but will thicken as it chills.

Pour into ramekins, pots de crème, small glasses, or a single serving bowl. Chill overnight. Serve with whipped cream if desired.

Note: This recipe can be cut in half. When I do that, I use my Cuisinart Little Pro.

Vanilla Cake with Chantilly Cream

Adapted from Posie Harwood Brien on Food52.

Serves 8 to 10

The cakes I like best are single-layer and rather plain, and this looks like a very plain cake—but it turns out to be packed with vanilla flavor and served with a luxurious, fragrant whipped cream, which you might want to keep in your arsenal as it would be good with other things.

When you get to the step of folding the melted butter into the batter, it is important to be scrupulous about fully incorporating it, even if it seems like it will never happen.

The Cake

198 grams butter, melted and cooled—do this first
200 grams granulated sugar
Extra sugar for coating the bottom and sides of the cake pan
3 eggs, at room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
¼ teaspoon salt
136 grams flour
Extra butter for coating the bottom and sides of the cake pan

Preheat the oven to 350°F; do not use convection.

Line an 8-inch round cake pan with parchment. Before you put the parchment down, dot the center of the pan with a little butter to secure the paper. Butter the bottom and sides of the cake pan, and coat with granulated sugar.

Beat the eggs with the sugar until the mixture doubles in size. Add the vanilla bean paste, vanilla extract, and salt, and mix gently.

Remove the bowl from the mixer and sift the flour over the egg mixture. I do this with a hand-held strainer rather than a flour sifter. Gently fold the flour into the batter with a spatula, doing your best not to deflate it.

Add the melted butter and fold it in thoroughly using a spatula. Again, try not to deflate the batter, but be sure to incorporate the butter completely, leaving no streaks behind.

Pour the batter into the cake pan and bake until the cake starts to pull away slightly from the sides—about 35 minutes in my oven.

Remove from the oven and immediately run a knife or small spatula around the sides to loosen the cake from the sugar coating. Let the cake cool for 5 minutes, then turn it out onto a wire rack to finish cooling.

The Chantilly Cream

1 cup heavy cream
1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste
2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar

Beat the cream with the vanilla bean paste and sugar until stiff peaks form. I use a hand-held electric mixer with a small metal bowl and beaters—an extra set—that I always keep in the freezer especially for whipping cream. You want the whipped cream to be stable, but don’t overbeat it or it will turn grainy.

French Apple Cake

In two weeks’ time, I’m going to spend the afternoon with my childhood best friend. We haven’t seen each other in - I hate to say how long - 42 years, if I’m counting correctly. We’ve been able to keep track of each other all these years because our parents were friends. In fact, when my dad died in 2006, Sharyn’s father, "Uncle Matt, sat next to me at the funeral, holding my hand.

I have lots of memories of Sharyn - her bronze patent leather Capezios for Easter Sunday; her New Year’s Eve birthday; trick or treating in the snow after an early winter storm; taking tap dancing lessons together. I never pick up a jar of Kosciusko Mustard without thinking of her because I remember how much her father liked it.

The big question now is where should we go to lunch?

We can’t go to Pearl Oyster Bar. Sharyn’s from Maine, so taking her to a restaurant in New York City that is modeled after a Maine lobster shack would be rather ridiculous, even if Rebecca Charles’s salt crusted shrimp is one of the best things to eat in the world.

Should we go to The Four Seasons because it’s fancy? Swifty’s because Jane recommended it? Brio because the Italian food is so good tourists from Italy eat there? Girasole because it’s in my neighborhood? The Lincoln because it’s hot? The Lexington Candy Shop with its old fashioned soda fountain because it’s fun?

Ah ha. The Trustee’s Dining Room at The Metropolitan Museum.

The food is excellent, the room is comfortable, the view is lovely, and we can talk without interruption. After lunch if it’s a nasty day, we can wander around the Museum; if it’s nice, the Park.

Then we can go back to my apartment and have a cup of tea (everybody drinks tea, right?) and a piece of this plain, not-too-sweet but lovely cake before Sharyn meets Doug for a dinner where he is the guest speaker.

This cake is just the ticket for a restorative afternoon snack. It’s adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan - the creator of World Peace Cookies, which, I believe, would get Democrats and Republicans working together if someone would just make a lot of them and lug them to Congress.

World Peace Cookies

French Apple Cake
Adapted from Around My French Table by Dorie Greenspan

¾ cups all-purpose flour
¾ teaspoon baking powder
A pinch of salt
4 large apples - 4 different kinds are best because you can have crisp, soft, sweet, and tart
2 large eggs
¾ cup sugar
3 tablespoons dark rum - I use Goslings Black Seal
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ pound unsalted butter, melted and cooled (1 American stick)
Softened butter for coating the cake pan

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Butter an 8-inch springform pan.

In a small bowl stir the flour, baking powder, and salt together with a fork.

Peel the apples. Cut them in half, and cut four large pieces off around the apple, leaving just the cores, which you will discard. I find this easier than using an apple corer. Cut the pieces into chunks, about an inch big. A little larger than an inch is fine.

Break the eggs into a large bowl, and beat them with a whisk until they foam a little. Add the sugar, whisk to blend, then whisk in the rum and vanilla. Add half the flour and whisk until incorporated, then whisk in half the melted butter. Repeat this step by whisking in the other half of the flour followed by the rest of the melted butter, and mix until the batter is smooth and thick. Using a rubber or silicone spatula, fold in the apples, turning until the fruit is coated with batter. You will find there are more apples than batter; this is how it’s supposed to be.

Scrape the mixture into the buttered springform pan, and spread it around with the spatula until it’s as even as you can get it. It won’t be perfect because there are so many apples.

Put a piece of parchment on a baking sheet - I use a half sheet pan - and put the springform pan on it. Slide the baking sheet with the springform pan on it into the oven. Bake until the top of the cake is golden brown and a knife or cake tester inserted into the center comes out clean. This will take about 50 to 60 minutes.

Transfer the cake to a cooling rack, and leave it for 5 minutes.

Run a blunt knife around the edge of the cake. This should be easy as the cake will probably have already pulled away from the sides of the pan, but still be sure to open the springform pan slowly to make sure no apples have stuck to the sides.

It may be eaten warm or at room temperature and is particularly delicious with some lightly whipped cream with a little sugar and rum in it. The cake should keep well for 2 days, but do not cover it. You can put a strip of wax paper on the cut ends.

Walnut Brandy Cake

Adapted from “Walnut Brandy Cake” by Gayle Gonzales on :pastry studio.

Serves 8 to 10

This cake is a favorite of mine. Rather plain—but not like Plain Jane. More like your favorite jeans: they fit perfectly and are comfortably broken in. It’s great to have hanging around the kitchen, but it won’t be there long.

6 ounces/168 g unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup/200 g sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
¼ cup milk, at room temperature
3 tablespoons brandy
1 teaspoon vanilla
1½ cups/213 g unbleached all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 cup coarsely chopped toasted walnuts, almonds, pecans, or hazelnuts

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Oil an 8½ x 4¼-inch loaf pan, or a one-pound loaf pan. Cut a piece of parchment paper large enough to line the bottom lengthwise with a bit of overhang.

Toast the nuts until they are lightly browned and smell fragrant. I usually stir them at about the 5-minute mark. Let cool, then chop coarsely.

Cream the butter, then gradually add the sugar and beat in a stand mixer or with a hand mixer until light and fluffy.

Add the eggs one at a time, making sure each is fully incorporated before adding the next.

In a small bowl or cup, combine the milk, brandy, and vanilla.

In another bowl, mix the flour, baking powder, salt, and nutmeg. Sift the mixture onto a piece of aluminum foil.

Add a third of the flour mixture to the butter mixture, followed by half of the milk mixture. Beat to combine. Add another third of the flour, the remaining milk mixture, and beat again. Add the last third of the flour and beat just until incorporated. Then switch to a spatula and fold in the nuts by hand.

Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan and bake for 50 to 60 minutes, or until a cake tester comes out clean.

Cool the cake in the pan on a wire rack. After about 30 minutes, remove it from the pan, peel off the parchment, and let cool completely.

Note: The four blogs I followed faithfully when they were active were The Wednesday Chef, Orangette, Rachel Eats, and :pastry studio. The writing at :pastry studio is sensual; the photos are beautiful; and the recipes are spare, elegant, and they work.

Gayle Gonzales, the author of :pastry studio, once described her work this way: “I favor outlaw pastry—simple, fresh, custom, minimally sweet handmade objects of desire formed in an open space where nothing comes between the art and the practice.”

She also wrote a beautiful e-cookbook, The Global Pastry Table, available on Kindle, Apple Books, and other eBook platforms.

Puff Pancake with Strawberries

Adapted from a handwritten recipe given to me after a dinner party in St. Louis

I have edited vicsrecipes not to include stories unless they add something to the recipe. I am leaving this one because it is so meaningful to me: it marks the moment when I moved from Joy to Julia. You can, of course, skip straight down to the recipe.

The first year Dick and I were married, we lived in St. Louis. A disc jockey he knew from his days in Philadelphia was also living there, and he and his girlfriend invited us to their house for dinner. The disc jockey was famous, and I remember his name. I’m embarrassed—and sorry—to say I can’t remember the name of his girlfriend. But I can picture her perfectly.

She was lovely—very small, almost elf-like—with short brown hair, irrepressibly curly, big blue eyes, and a wide, sincere smile. But what I remember most about her is not that she was so very pretty. It’s that, up to that point in my life, she made the best meal I had ever eaten at someone else’s house. The actual best.

I’m sure we had a starter, and I’m sure it was good, but I don’t remember it. What I do remember is the main course. It was rich and delicious with a capital D, and it was the first Julia Child recipe I ever ate: Suprêmes de Volaille à Blanc from The French Chef Cookbook—simple, elegant, and rich, rich, rich. I don't remember what else we had with it, but I remember that we drank Champagne and talked and laughed and ate. We were all relaxed and happy.

But that’s not the point of this story. This is.

As we were finishing dinner, the elf left the table and disappeared into the kitchen for a short time. I didn’t suspect that she was an alchemist as well as a cook, but I soon discovered otherwise. She came back, and we continued eating until there wasn't a morsel left on a plate. She wouldn’t let me help clear the table, and after she whisked the plates away, I could hear her rustling around in the kitchen. Doors were opening and closing. Dishes were clicking. Cutlery was clinking.

And then she came back through the doorway carrying a bowl of strawberries in one hand and another of softly whipped cream in the other. She placed both bowls on the table and disappeared into the kitchen for a split second, re-emerging immediately with a frying pan from which a large browned puff was swelling. She put the pan on the table and deftly cut the large puff into four pieces, which she plated and topped with one large spoonful of strawberries and another of lightly vanilla-scented whipped cream.

My husband and I were speechless—first because the sight of this dessert was breathtaking, and then when our mouths were full. The closest thing I had ever eaten to it was my Aunt Rita’s Yorkshire pudding—and it was very close—but the Yorkshire pudding was cooked in beef fat, topped with gravy, and was savory. This was dessert—just sweet enough, all cold and hot and eggy and creamy at the same time, with the surprise of toasted, buttery, sliced filberts on the bottom. It was a grand ending to a very good dinner. After some coffee and brandy, we went home sated and comfortable after a night filled with good company, delicious food and drink, and new friends in a new town.

The next day, I went to the bookstore and bought my first Julia Child cookbook, a little paperback copy of The French Chef Cookbook. On Wednesday, an envelope addressed to me—written in very neat, small red handwriting—was waiting when I got home from work. Inside was the recipe for Puff Pancake with Strawberries. Written in a small printed hand, it completely filled an entire side of an 8½-by-11-inch piece of ruled paper. I put that piece of paper in a little accordion file that a friend had given me at my bridal shower, filled with her favorite handwritten recipes. I still have that file, and I still have those recipes, and—more years later than seems possible—I still have that piece of paper with the precise red handwriting.

There is no signature, but there is an admonition to SERVE AT ONCE, and the following note is at the bottom:

“Filberts are 100-times more delicious than walnuts. Also, Victoria, there’s really no trick to making this pancake—it’s extremely EASY. However, it must go straight from the oven to the table piping HOT since it, like a soufflé, loses its puff rather quickly. Also, do try it for a Sunday brunch with sausage or whatever, topping it with sour cream—it really adds a new dimension to the dish. And serve with Champagne.”

I pass on the recipe with thanks to the elf, along with apologies for not remembering her name and perhaps also for calling her an elf—which I mean only to say she seemed to me a most magical being who introduced me to this delicious dessert and to Julia Child. I may not remember her name; however, I have never forgotten her or that evening.

A number of years after that evening, I was living in Atlanta when someone who worked at WGBH in Boston—the station that produced Julia Child’s The French Chef—came to my house for dinner. I didn’t serve the puff pancake that night, but I did make the chicken dish and told the story of how I came to know it.

A few weeks later, as a complete surprise, I received a hardcover copy of The French Chef Cookbook in the mail, inscribed:

“Bon Appétit to Victoria Carr — The French Chef, Julia Child”

Puff Pancake with Strawberries

Serves 4

2 eggs
½ cup milk
½ cup all-purpose unbleached flour
Dash of nutmeg
½ cup butter
½ cup thinly sliced filberts (hazelnuts), about 2 ounces, or walnuts, crushed
Juice of ½ lemon
2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar
1 quart strawberries, sliced and sugared
Whipped cream (if serving as dessert)
Sour cream (if serving for brunch with sausage or the like)

Beat the eggs lightly in a mixing bowl. Add the milk, flour, and nutmeg, and beat by hand until blended. The batter may still be a little lumpy.

Melt the butter in a 10- to 12-inch skillet with a heatproof handle over medium heat until the butter begins to foam. Stir in the filberts.

Pour the batter into the hot skillet over the filberts. Bake in a preheated 425°F oven for 15 to 20 minutes, or until the pancake is puffed and golden brown. Sprinkle with the lemon juice and return to the oven for 2 to 3 minutes.

Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar and SERVE AT ONCE, cutting into wedges and topping with strawberries and whipped cream for dessert or sour cream for brunch.

Almond Cake

Adapted from Pure Dessert by Alice Medrich (Clarkson Potter, 2007)

Serves 8

This cake can be served plain or topped with softly whipped cream, with fruit or without it. Lightly marinated strawberries are especially nice. If you use the optional Amaretto and plan to serve the cake with whipped cream, you might flavor the cream lightly with Amaretto as well—and perhaps even serve a small glass alongside.

4 ounces unblanched whole almonds
200g plus 2 tablespoons sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
3 large eggs, at room temperature
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into chunks and slightly softened, plus 1 generous tablespoon softened butter for the cake pan
½ teaspoon pure almond extract
1 tablespoon Amaretto, optional (I use Luxardo)
1½ ounces flour
¼ teaspoon baking powder
1/8g xanthan gum

Preheat the oven to 350°F.

Butter the sides of an 8-by-2-inch round cake pan. Line the bottom with parchment paper; do not butter the paper.

Place the almonds, sugar, and salt in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until the nuts are finely ground, being careful not to reduce them to powder. Add the eggs, butter, almond extract, and Amaretto, if using, and pulse until completely blended.

Mix the flour, baking powder, and xanthan gum together in a small bowl and add to the food processor. Pulse again, just long enough for the mixture to blend.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and spread evenly. Bake until the top is golden and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, 30 to 40 minutes. (In my oven, 30 minutes works.)

Cool completely in the pan on a rack. To unmold, slide a thin spatula around the sides, cover the pan with a plate, and invert. Peel off the parchment, then cover with another plate and invert again so the cake is right-side up.

Adaptation: You can give this cake a crunchy almond crust by buttering the bottom and sides of the pan with 1 generous tablespoon softened butter, scattering 6 tablespoons sliced almonds over the bottom and about 1 inch up the sides, and sprinkling 2 tablespoons sugar over the bottom and sides. If you do this, do not use parchment paper.

NOTE: My favorite Parrish Magic Line pans appear to have been discontinued. They were beautifully made in the USA and available in many sizes. You may still be able to find them online if you search.

Chocolate Torte

Adapted from Chocolate (Williams-Sonoma Kitchen Library) by Lora Brody (Time-Life Books, 1993). Recipe developed by Narsai David and Janice Feuer.

This is an almost-flourless (1 tablespoon of flour) chocolate cake. It’s very rich, so a small cake goes a long way. I make it every year for Walter’s birthday, and if I even try to suggest something new and different, he protests. This recipe needs to be made at least one day, and up to two, in advance to cure.

The only catch with this recipe is that it’s best to use a standing mixer because you beat five eggs with one tablespoon of sugar until the mixture triples in volume.

Serves 8 to 10

500g semisweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped
150g unsalted butter, at room temperature
5 large eggs, at room temperature
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon all-purpose flour
Confectioners’ sugar for dusting the top of the cake (optional)
1 cup heavy cream, whipped softly, to top the cake

Preheat the oven to 425°F and position the rack in the middle of the oven. Butter an 8-inch springform pan or an 8-inch by 2-inch cake pan with a loose bottom.

Line the bottom of the pan with a circle of parchment paper, either bought precut or cut to fit precisely. If you have to cut the paper yourself, the easiest way is to trace the pan bottom on the paper and cut it with scissors.

Butter the paper liner and dust the entire pan with cocoa powder (because flour would show white), then tap out any excess.

Melt the chocolate and butter the way Alice Medrich does, in a water bath:

Use a stainless steel bowl and a skillet a few inches wider than the bowl.

Roughly chop the chocolate and combine it with the butter in the bowl.

Bring a shallow layer of water in the skillet just to a simmer.

Set the bowl in the skillet and stir frequently until the chocolate is melted and the mixture is smooth and hot enough that you want to remove your finger fairly quickly after dipping it in to test. Do not let the water go beyond a simmer.

Remove the bowl from the heat, scrape the mixture into a bowl large enough to eventually hold all the batter, and let cool for a few minutes.

Place the eggs and sugar in the bowl of a standing mixer. I use a KitchenAid fitted with the paddle rather than the whisk.

Beat on high speed until the mixture is light, fluffy, and tripled in volume, about 10 minutes.

Reduce the speed to low and beat in the flour.

Using a rubber spatula, fold one-third of the egg mixture into the chocolate mixture to lighten it, then carefully fold in the remaining egg mixture, being careful not to deflate the batter.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top with the spatula.

Bake for exactly 15 minutes. Remove the cake from the oven, place it on a cooling rack, and let cool completely to room temperature. The cake may deflate slightly, but it won’t matter. Do not refrigerate. I like to let it cure overnight before serving.

The cake will pull away from the sides of the pan as it cools, but run a blunt knife around the edge before removing it from the pan to be sure it doesn’t stick.

Dust the top lightly with confectioners’ sugar if you wish. (I have a holiday patisserie stencil set from Kaiser that I sometimes use around the holidays.)

Cut into small wedges and serve topped with softly whipped cream.

If you want to be truly luxurious—and who doesn’t on occasion—also serve crème anglaise and raspberry coulis on the side.

NOTE: One year, while making three of these cakes for Walter’s birthday party and talking on the phone with my friend Marsha, I accidentally left the tablespoon of sugar out of one of them. At the party two days later, Marsha took one bite and announced from across the room, “Victoria, I got the cake without the sugar!” The joke, of course, was that with that much chocolate, the cake was still sweet enough.

Crème Pâtissière

Adapted from The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child (Alfred A. Knopf, 1968)

The French Chef was my first—and is still my favorite—Julia.

This is the pastry cream you would use to fill cream puffs, éclairs, or traditional profiteroles.

6 egg yolks
½ cup granulated sugar
½ cup all-purpose flour
2 cups hot whole milk
2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1–2 tablespoons Amaretto or Frangelico

Julia Child recommends a heavy-bottomed 2½-quart non-reactive saucepan, but I think a saucier is ideal here so you don’t have to fight a right angle at the bottom. I use my All-Clad Tri-Ply 3-quart stainless saucier.

Place the egg yolks in the pan and gradually whisk in the sugar. Keep whisking until the mixture becomes thick, pale yellow, and forms a ribbon. Whisk in the flour, then slowly whisk in the hot milk in a thin stream.

Set the pan over moderately high heat and whisk continuously, slowly but steadily, until the mixture thickens. If it gets lumpy, don’t panic; beat vigorously with a whisk until it smooths out again. Lower the heat and continue stirring for several more minutes to fully cook the flour and thicken the cream. Be careful not to scorch it.

Remove from the heat and stir in the butter, vanilla, and liqueur. Transfer to a clean bowl. To prevent a skin from forming, press plastic wrap directly onto the surface of the pastry cream, or film the surface with about ½ tablespoon of the same liqueur. Chill.

Julia uses rum, but I usually use Amaretto or Frangelico because I love almond and hazelnut flavors.

Licorice Ice Cream

Adapted from A Sweet Quartet by Fran Gage (North Point Press, 2002) and Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream Desserts by Jeni Britton Bauer (Artisan, 2014)

I started making all my own ice cream when I moved to the country from New York City ten years ago. I mostly make one particular flavor—Sweet Cream—adapted from Jeni’s Splendid Ice Cream Desserts by Jeni Britton Bauer, and I always keep a pint of it in the freezer.

But this ice cream is something different: delicate, soft buff in color, and gently elusive in flavor. Some people wouldn’t recognize it as licorice. It flummoxes them: Is this gingerbread? Is it chai? So I think it’s entirely possible that even people who claim not to like licorice might enjoy this, with its subtle hint of anise.

Serves 1 quart

600g whole milk
336g heavy cream
150g granulated sugar (I use Domino Golden Sugar)
3 tablespoons Lyle’s Golden Syrup (you could use corn syrup, but I don’t)
14g Bob’s Red Mill Tapioca Flour (you could use cornstarch, but I don’t)
56g cream cheese
⅛ teaspoon fine sea salt
2 Yogi brand Egyptian Licorice Tea bags

Prep Steps

Weigh the tapioca flour or cornstarch into a very small prep bowl.

Weigh the 56g of cream cheese onto a small plate. Add the sea salt to the top of the cream cheese and press it in using the tines of a fork. Transfer the salted cream cheese to a container you can later blend some of the hot mixture into. (I use a tall glass measuring beaker that I have for when I need to measure milliliters because I don’t like to use the plastic container that came with my immersion blender with hot liquids.)

Measure the Lyle’s Golden Syrup into a small glass (I use a 5-ounce measure). You can microwave it for about 30 seconds if you want it to pour more easily.

Cook the Base

I use a 3-quart saucier here as it’s easy to stir the mixture with its rounded bottom and flared sides. Pour the milk into the pan you are using and scoop out a small amount and mix it thoroughly with the tapioca flour in the small prep bowl. Set this slurry aside.

Add the cream, sugar, and Lyle’s to the milk in the saucepan. Stir, and bring to a low boil. Boil gently for 4 minutes, stirring constantly. Turn off the heat. Move the pan to a cool burner. Remove the tags from the tea bags, add them to the mixture, and let steep for 15 minutes.

At the end of the steeping time, remove the tea bags and squeeze them gently into the mixture to extract all the flavor.

Stir the tapioca slurry again to ensure it’s smooth, then add it to the pan and whisk it in. Move the pan back to the original burner and bring back to a low boil, stirring constantly, and boil for one minute. Remove from the heat immediately.

Blend and Chill

Add a little of the hot mixture to the salted cream cheese in the beaker and blend until smooth. (An immersion blender works well here.) Return that mixture to the pan and stir to combine. Strain the whole mixture through a fine sieve into an 8-cup Pyrex measuring cup or other easy-pour container.

Transfer the base to a lidded container. (You could use a well-sealed zip-top bag, but I don’t.) Place it in an ice bath: I use a large stainless bowl, add cold water around the container of mixture without letting it spill in, and chill it down with reusable ice packs rather than ice cubes, which would also work well and would be easy if you have an ice maker; I do not.

Once cool, refrigerate the mixture overnight to cure.

Spin and Store

The next day, spin the chilled base in your ice cream machine according to manufacturer’s instructions.

Pack the finished ice cream into two pint-size cardboard containers. (I cut 6-inch parchment circles to place on top before sealing.)

Let the ice cream firm in the freezer for at least 8 hours before serving.