Maybe I named this recipe for lemon frozen yogurt the “Yogurt of the Gods” because it has Greek yogurt in it, which instantly makes me think of Greek mythology, or perhaps it was birthed out of how heavenly it tastes. Still, though, there’s a chance that I named it that because my kids have been watching The Lightning Thief, reading the Percy Jackson books and pretending they can control massive amounts of water like any true son of Poseidon could.

Maybe it’s a combination of all three, melded into the fact that I am having a hard time writing a post today after a week with a migraine. Turns out, the perfect cure for post-migraine brain drain is simply sweetened yogurt with a hint of lemon. It’s easy to throw together, and the outcome is a perfect creamy treat just screaming to be covered with summer berries, a fresh peach sauce or nothing at all.

The ingredient list here is simple: strained/Greek yogurt, sugar, a lemon (a bit of both the rind and the juice). Nothing fancy, and nothing too involved either. Simply mix them all together or have a kid do it for you.

Sticking the tongue out of the side of your mouth improves your ability to mix.

And when they’re all mixed up, simply stash it in the refrigerator to make sure it’s nice and cool. When it’s been in there for an hour or more, it gets plopped in the trusty ice cream maker to freeze.

I’ve plopped fresh raspberries on top of this. I’ve drizzled honey over the top. I made an ice cream sandwich for the kids out of those wafer cookies for a snack one day. It’s sweet and tangy perfection in a bowl.

This recipe is adapted from David Lebovitz’s Vanilla Frozen Yogurt in his book Perfect Scoop.

Yesterday I was making blueberry crumb bars for Babble when I decided I needed use up some of the produce in the fridge. We were headed up to the Boundary Waters, and I had, well, a lot of produce that wasn’t scheduled to be packed in the cooler and carted up there with us. As I stared at the cherries that had sadly been neglected as life took over and deadlines loomed, I decided they would work perfectly in the crumb bar recipe I’d just tossed into the oven.

The cherries had originally been purchased to finish off the last two rounds of galette dough that had been sitting in the freezer ever since June. I had dreams of frangipane topped with cherries and slivered almonds. I’ll leave that for a different time. Instead, this is the crumb bar interpretation.

Start by gathering your ingredients.

Mix together flour, sugar, almond paste, an egg, a bit of baking powder, salt and, of course, cold, unsalted butter.

Next, pit your cherries. By Cherry #3 I was praying that the clouds would part and a cherry pitter would fall from the heavens into my kitchen to save my fingers from both the cherry juice and the severe poking I was giving myself with the knife.

Then I started eating the cherries to take my mind off it. Instantly better. What deep red cherry stains? And it’s a lot easier to pop the pits out with your thumb. You know, in case you were wondering. Toss the cherries with a bit of sugar and cornstarch to soak up some of the juice while they’re cooking.

Mix up your flour mix and separate into halves. Press the first half in a 9×13 pan.

Spread your cherries into the pan.

To the second half of the crumb mixture add a few slivered almonds.

Pour the rest of the crumb mixture over the top and pop it in the oven.

I packed these for our trip to the big woods, where internet access is scarce. But if you miss me, I’ve got posts going up daily on Babble’s Family Kitchen. There’s always Cascadian Farm or Lifetime Moms, and please do check out my hello over on Smithfield, a brand new venture for me, where I’ll be sharing tips on gardening, meal planning, recipes and more. I’m really excited to be a part of a great team of bloggers there.

When we embarked on the homemade ice cream path, the next obvious step was consumption of all the delicious gelatos and ice creams that were filling the freezer. First we ate bowls of vanilla bean gelato with mint leaves for garnish, we smooshed it between cookies, made shakes with fresh strawberries, topped it with strawberry sauce and, of course, as root beer floats. Note: Good root beer floats always starts with a good root beer. Goose Island? Pure cane sugar? Check.

While dating Ole, I learned quickly that there was a proper way to construct a float. I remember clearly the day we spent at Five Points in Columbia, South Carolina. We had stopped by Adriana’s (back when they had gelato still) and ordered root beer floats, and he instantly started complaining about the soda-to-gelato ratio.

You see, he complains (ahem, readily) when there is not enough root beer. For a root beer float to really be a float, the ice cream or, in this case, gelato, should, well, float. A cup full of ice cream with root beer drizzled over the top is not a float. It is a root beer sundae. And a puddle of root beer topped with ice cream, also not a float. It will become a root beer shake as you try to get the root beer to cover the ice cream and just end up stirring it all in. Start by filling the vessel you’ll be using a third full with soda.

Next comes your ice cream of choice. I went with the vanilla bean gelato because, well, I was trying to make room for another flavor combination I wanted to try. What? You can never have too much ice cream in the summer. It is not possible.

At this point, your glass should be about two-thirds full. Scoops will depend on the size of your scoop and, of course, your glass.

Finally, pour root beer over the ice cream again. This will give you the nice foamy quality that you are so used to, where the foam gets nice and thick, taking on a consistency all its own.


And the root beer that is left? That is to be served with the float, of course. Those places that keep it behind the counter? Blah. And splitting one bottle into two floats? Definitely not allowed, unless, of course, they’re child-sized floats.

However you make yours, root beer floats make a great summertime treat with the cold, bubbly root beer mixing with smooth vanilla ice cream. The kids know the minute we buy soda what it is for. It is a family favorite at our home that will have the kids squealing and begging the minute they know the root beer is in the house and cold and the ice cream is ready.

The high today is supposed to reach 90. It makes it hard to believe that just two weeks ago I was waiting for the overnight lows to stay above freezing before I put my seedlings in the ground. I am hot and sticky, and I am dreaming of the technology that is called central air. You may have heard of it? I had it at one point. In fact, I had it my whole life until we purchased our own home. Now? I make ice cream and stand in the laundry room on the cement, eating vanilla bean gelato out of the freezer. It’s kind of like air conditioning from the inside out.

While I received an ice cream maker as a gift several years ago, it took me several years to use it the first time and then several years to use it again. This is partly due to the tragedy of me eating less ice cream lately. I blame pregnancy, which tends to make me crave things like raspberries and spinach salads instead of ice cream and pickles, and I blame my husband, who prefers dessert come in cookie form. Whatever the case, I broke out the ice cream machine when I saw half gallons of organic cream at Costco, and now I can’t stop. I have made two batches of gelato, with a third (ice cream this time) in the fridge waiting for a turn in the magic churning machine.

Eggs. Ten of them, to be exact.

Beat them lightly and set them aside.

In a large stockpot we add the sugar.

And follow the sugar with the whole milk and the cream. Gelato has more whole milk than ice cream would, which lowers the milk fat. Ice cream is more, well, cream.

As we heat slowly, we get the pleasure of whisking. When I got bored, I had my oldest daughter do it, and when I got tired of hearing her complain that her arm was going to fall right off into the mix, I had my 14-year-old sister do it, who happened to be over just for this very reason. I whisked Batch 2 (ginger flavored) myself, though, because they all ran and hid the minute I pulled the stockpot out.

When the milk and cream starts to bubble slightly around the edges of the pan, it’s time to temper the eggs. It is easiest to have them close at hand, which is why we got them ready first.

To temper, we’re going to slowly add a small amount of the hot liquid into the eggs while whisking so that the eggs heat but do not cook into a solid. Lumpy scrambled eggs in ice cream is never a good idea, so temper we must. After two ladle-fulls of steaming milk and cream, I then pour the warm eggs into the pot and whisk to combine.

Continue cooking and stirring until the mixture thickens, which generally takes about 8 minutes. The common test is whether it coats the back of a wooden spoon. When that happens, remove it from the heat and let it cool a bit.

We want to let it cool because putting all that hot liquid into the refrigerator would cause the temperature to rise, and a warm fridge is a dangerous fridge. So, let it sit while you clean up and do some other things. Like deal with the vanilla bean you’re adding.

Split a vanilla bean down the center with a sharp knife.

Then use the knife to scrape out all the seeds on the inside of the bean.

Mix the seeds into the ice cream mix.

I opted to also add a bit of vanilla extract. My recipe is a larger one that will fill a 4.5-quart ice cream maker, and rather than use 2 vanilla beans or 2 teaspoons of extract, I chose to use a bit of both, but if you’re halving the recipe, feel free to choose one or the other.

Freezing is as easy as reading what you do in your ice cream maker. Just follow the instructions to harden.

This is before my gelato went in for the hardening. I maybe ate a bowl of it this way. It was like soft serve, only better. Much better.

And enjoy. Perfect for those nasty, sticky days of summer where the humidity seems to swallow you whole.

I enjoy cooking with my kids. I believe that teaching them how to cook and bake and feed themselves is an important part of the child rearing process. So, I set out to do that this week. First, we made brownies, but not just any brownies. We made brownies with a mint cheesecake layer, and then we topped them off with a simple ganache. I mean, it was St. Patrick’s Day. What ends a meal of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes and Guinness like a rich brownies with a refreshing minty kick? Nothing. No. Nothing.

This week also happened to be my daughter’s spring break. She lovingly declared it “the worst spring break ever, except for Saturday and Sunday,” which I instantly started repeating every time she tried to talk to me.

“Mom, can I eat a-” “Worst spring break EVER!”
“Mom, is it okay if I go outsi-” “Worst spring break EVER!”

Apparently her idea of the perfect spring break does not involve teaching her brother and sister how to add and subtract, which she did, or making me numerous cups of coffee, which she did, or making and cleaning up lunch, which she did. In my defense, she declared it the worst spring break ever as early as Sunday when she realized that going to water parks and warmer climates and the mall daily were not on the agenda. She didn’t even give me a chance to make the week fun and exciting…which I didn’t. Still, she hasn’t complained since we took them all swimming with my sister at the (free) indoor pool over there.

And to appease her, I crossed things off her “want” list like homemade macaroni and cheese, smoothies, egg sandwiches, potstickers and fried rice and the like. I also declared Friday fun day and let the kids pick one place to go. Plus, we made brownies. Mint cheesecake brownies with smooth and creamy ganache all over the top. She loves me. If only her love would be so easy to buy in three years when she becomes a teenager.

Start with the cheesecake portion with a package of softened cream cheese and an egg.

Add 1/4 cup of sugar.

Naturally, you’ll need a bit of mint extract.

We chose to add a bit of food dye to make a lovely green color. Looking for a natural dye? I’d suggest India Tree Food Coloring.

Then mix it all together until it’s smooth and uniform in color. This was very exciting for the little man.

For the brownies start with two sticks of butter. (I did not promise low fat in this recipe, did I?)

Melted. However it is you like to get them that way, make it happen.

Next add sugar

…followed by a few eggs. He actually hung on to that shell!

Then add a few tablespoons of water.

Vanilla. And mix it all up, or have one of the kids do it.

Next we’re going to lazily sift the ingredients using a too large strainer and a too small bowl. One nearly 10-year-old is holding the strainer. Tell her not to let it drop into the liquid as you add ingredient after ingredient into it, starting with flour.

Unsweetened cocoa powder.

Baking powder and salt.

Instruct the children to sift. They actually didn’t do too bad. Most of it made it into the bowl.

Spread the brownie mixture into a 9×13 pan. I lined mine with parchment to make them easier to remove. You can just grease the bottom and up the sides really well too. If you use the parchment, spray the pan first so the parchment doesn’t slide around. It will make the spreading process that much easier.

Then top your brownie mix with the mint cheesecake mix and bake for 35 minutes or so.

While the brownies are cooling, make a ganache for the top. Start with cream and a small bit of butter in a pan over medium heat.

Just when the cream starts to boil, remove from the heat and dump in the chocolate. Whisk until it is all melted.

Pour the ganache over the brownies and spread it around evenly.

And that’s it. Store in the fridge.

And eat. Then eat another one while you try to figure out how in the world you’re going to retain the most-loved mom status with the girl for the next 8 years until you ship her off to college.

What to do when you have food that needs to be used in short order? In this case, the obvious solution was to whip up a bread pudding with a few extra lemons, ricotta, blueberries I’d planned on feeding the kids but then forgot about and a loaf of bread with a forgotten purpose.

It all started when I agreed to make broccoli cheese soup for Kiera. She’d asked for it repeatedly, and I’d finally picked up all the necessary ingredients, including a load of bread. But then a few days passed as work piled up and deadlines needed to be met, and the bread got…less than fresh. Along with the bread, I had some ricotta that I had used to fill zucchini muffins, and I’d taken some blueberries out to feed the kids and then forgotten about them on the counter, and there was no way they were going to make it through another freezing cycle.

In a very large bowl, crack 4 eggs.

Give the eggs a good beating.

Add a cup sugar.

Then the leftover ricotta. It turns out I had one cup left.

Mix it together until all the ricotta chunks are teeny tiny or nonexistent.

Zest one lemon over the bowl and include a tiny bit of juice, but not much. I added a teaspoon’s worth just to make sure I could taste the lemon, but I didn’t want it to be overpowering.

Next comes whole milk. I suppose you could use 2% or something with a lower fat content, but I don’t see why you’d want to.

Add in a bit of vanilla.

And a sprinkle and a dash of cardamom.

Mix together thoroughly.

Then melt about 3 tablespoons of butter. Butter makes everything better.

Stir in the butter. Isn’t it pretty? I told you it made everything better.

And then toss in the bread chunks. (Please excuse the fact that I thought it’d be a good idea to take the pictures as I was tossing them in. Same goes for the blueberries.)

Stir them until all the bread is evenly coated, and then you’ll want to let it sit for about 15 to 20 minutes. This will make sure the milk and eggs and the bread become one unit and will bake together as one unit, rather than two separate entities where you have egg and milk cooked together and crusty bread right alongside it.

Add in the blueberries, be them frozen from last summer or frozen from the store. If you’re in the habit of freezing them from the farmer’s market or in the fresh form, try freezing them in a single layer on a cookie sheet first for 20 minutes and then moving them into your storage container. This helps keep them intact and prevents you from getting a massive clump of frozen blueberries.

Mix the blueberries in as much as possible, gently folding the bread over.

Pour the bread into a greased casserole dish.

I had to push some of the blueberries down into the bread so that they weren’t all up on top. We’re ready for the oven: 350° F for 40 minutes.

Remove from the oven when the top is nicely browned and the bread pudding seems to have a bit of bounce when pressed in the center. It can still be a bit jiggly in the very center, but not much. Let it sit for 15-20 minutes before doing anything to it. This will help it set up, and it will also prevent you from burning the top of your mouth.

And then dish it up. You could eat it as is. There are no toppings needed.

Or you might try a bit of cream poured over the top. You know, if you feel like it. And why wouldn’t you feel like it?

Of note: This is definitely a dessert. You could eat it as a breakfast, but I’d suggest cutting back the sugar significantly, somewhere around 1/4 cup would work better for a breakfast. Not that you couldn’t eat it this way for breakfast, but the responsible side of me says portion sizes and everything considered, this is dessert. And what a dessert it is. It’s a bit lighter and fluffier than a traditional bread pudding, and the lemon and blueberries are fantastic bursts of freshness.

It’s hard to say where this kugelhopf originated from. While other kugelhopfs start from sweet, yeast-risen dough, I grew up eating a rich cake-like version my grandmother made. With its distinct rich taste and buttery texture, this moist cake is the perfect complement to your morning coffee and manages to hold its own after the main course with a cup of coffee.

The reason it’s hard to say where exactly my grandma’s kugelhopf came from is that her history is a bit like a rubber ball, bouncing off the walls and never really landing in the same place twice. She was born in Neu Banovci in what is now Serbia, then Yugoslavia. Her father died when she was young, and she was sent along with one of her sisters to live in a Lutheran orphanage in Torža (Savino Selo), where she lived and then worked at the age of 16.

During World War II she was sent to several DP camps, the first in Salzburg and then near Vienna. She moved back to Salzburg to live with a family as their nanny, and then she came to the U.S. with her mom and 3 sisters after the war. Somewhere along the line, this recipe became a part of her life. It made the trek to St. Paul, and it was served up on a plate to win my grandpa’s heart, to fill my dad’s belly and then mine.

And it all starts with this pan. Similar to a Bundt pan, a kugelhopf pan is a bit more intricate and comes in a variety of sizes and patterns.

Grease and flour the pan. Don’t be stingy, and make sure you fill all the cracks and crevices.

Then separate six eggs in whichever method you prefer. I like to crack them in half and then juggle the yolk for a while between the two shell halves, letting the whites fall into a bowl. Set the whites aside. We’ll visit them again later.

In a mixer, cream the softened butter and a bit of salt together. Then add the sugar and beat until creamy.

Add the yolks to the butter and sugar one at a time, mixing well between each yolk. (Yep, I broke one, but only after I had separated it, thankfully.)

And you’ll have this lovely, lemony yellow.

In a small cup, like this one, mix together a bit (3 tablespoons is all) of cream and the vanilla. Then sift together the baking powder and the flour and have it ready to go. This is my grandma’s (mom’s side) sifter. It’s kind of rusty. I like it that way.

And then alternate adding scoops of flour and tablespoons of cream and vanilla. You should do it about 3 times, until both are gone. Mix just until combined.

And then you’ll have this, but we aren’t done yet.

Find the whites and beat them with a pinch of cream of tartar until stiff peaks form. Stiff peaks don’t look particularly droopy. They have a nice, solid color and an appearance similar to Cool Whip, except they’re not, so don’t try to eat them. I can’t tell you how many times my kids have tried. Often.

Add about 3/4 cup egg whites to the batter and mix in gently. Then add the rest of the whites and start to fold slowly into the batter.

Just before you’re completely folded, when there are still several streaks of white, add 1/2 cup of golden raisins, tossed in flour. The flour will help them from sinking directly to the bottom of the kugelhopf pan, which leads to stickage, which leads to a kugelhopf that does not want to come out of the pan. So, dust liberally.

And then finish folding it together. Don’t over mix here. A few white streaks are okay.

Add the batter to the pan. It will not fill the pan, but it will rise while it’s baking. Place it in a 325º F oven for 70 minutes. Do not peek. Do not shake the oven. Do not poke and prod the cake. Leave it in there, alone, for the full 70 minutes. Then remove from the oven, let it cool for 6-7 minutes and invert it onto a plate, removing the pan.

When it’s a bit cooler, sift powdered sugar all over the top. Be as liberal as you’d like.

There’s something about making this that makes me wish I’d had the chance to do more than just observe in my grandma’s kitchen. I was far too young to understand the importance of asking about more than the how-to method and ask for the story behind the food as I watched her cook, but I wish I would have. And the story I will tell my children before they are old enough to think to ask is the one of my grandma, bringing her recipes here to cook for my grandpa, bringing her recipe here to feed my grandpa and passing it down for them.

Be sure to check out the other WanderFood Wednesday posts for more inspiration and Wanderlust finds.

Share and Enjoy:

]]>