Homegrown Alabama

Alas, I have returned mid-week to pay tribute to my latest discovery: the Homegrown Alabama's Market in Tuscaloosa. It is tantamount to a Farmer's Market, save for the fact that about two-third of the venders do not run farms. I went for the first time last week in search of fresh peaches to incorporate into last week's hit, Fuzzy Wuzzy. I was successful, and purchased a box of extra-ripe peaches from the friendly farmers from Burnette Farms. This week I found something else...

In the late afternoon sun, Homegrown Alabama was bustling. It seems to be the "new" "hip" place in town, where you might find Down-to-Earths, Hipsters, Musicians, Alternatives with their wacky tees and skinny jeans; you know, the people who swoon over organic food, and anything pulled out of the ground. Despite Tuscaloosa rivaling Hades for its spot atop the throne of Hottest Place in All Creation, I strolled (with my skinny jean cut-offs, and Canon hanging around my neck) down Hackberry Lane toward the distant, mellow music emanating from the market.

It did not take me long to see the sign "homemade ice cream". It was practically a bullzeye. But, as I should have suspected, no one there takes plastic, it's not biodegradable or natural. So, I had to hustle back to the ATM, and print out some cash. Finally, I returned and was able to purchase some of the advertised ice cream. I needed to see what the competition was like.

After visiting last week, I had a strong desire to become a vender at Alabama Homegrown because no one there was selling ice cream, but to my highest disappointment there were two selling my favorite food this week. By the time I got back, one vender, AA Farm Creamery from Millbrook, had already sold out. I was left with only one option: Todd's Produce. But this place looked promising, with a creatively colored sign, and another one boasting Chilton County peaches, and we all know Chilton County is the peach capital of the South. They offered two kinds: peach and strawberry. It was $3 for a cup, and I bought both.

Peach: upon first bite I could tell it was most likely made Philadelphia style--a term in the ice cream world used to describe egg-less ice cream; essentially it was not a custard base (French Style). I use a custard base. It was creamy, but it lacked the density of a French Style. It had a decent peach flavor, and miniscule spots of the actual fruit. It tasted similar to those old Flintstone push-pops I used to eat as a child. That was cool, but weird coming from a peach flavor. Overall, it was good, but let's be honest, it's hard for ice cream not to be good. However, my senses for ice cream have been honed with years of vigorous training, and I could tell it was homemade. It didn't have that "ice cream shop" taste or texture. It tasted like something often found at a church picnic.

Strawberry:  I am not a huge fan of fruit ice creams; I prefer more substantial ingredients like peanut butter. This one, again, was easily discernible as homemade. Unlike the peach, however, the strawberry was much icier. It seems as though my arch-enemy, Isie, is spreading his aqueous fingers toward other ice cream makers. In fact, it was very icy. Although the fires of Tuscaloosa did weaken his (Isie's) strength, the photos clearly show the extent to which he can prevail amidst any element or climate. If you look closely you can see him rearing his frozen head amongst the pools of strawberry cream. I was not completely pleased with the strawberry. It was good, but, like the peach, not what I am searching for, not gourmet ice cream.

My quest is on-going. Tis a arduous task, this ice cream-tasting, but I shall press on. I do not know where my quest will lead to next, but I do know that Maple (Bacon) Walnut is this week's flavor, so check back on Sunday for the analysis of experimentation and fun reading. Until then, happy eating.

-Reese O'Shirey Esq.

Flavor of the Week: Fuzzy Wuzzy

As promised last week, I am posting, each week, a new flavor, intrinsically unique--a quest for gourmet ice cream.

Fuzzy Wuzzy - honey-peach ice cream with honey-caramelized peach chunks.

I must begin by addressing the name: Fuzzy Wuzzy. This might have gathered smirks or quirks, but its origin is rooted deep in the bowels of childhood fun: a simple, short rhyme that has puzzled children for decades (I still don't know, for the life of me, what color Fuzzy was). I chose the name because it embodied all that is and was my ice cream flavor. Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear, right? At least that's what I hear. Well, bears love honey, and peaches are fuzzy. There you have it. Honey-peach. Simple.

My quest for ultimate gourmet ice cream journeyed me into foreign lands this week, for I have never attempted a peach ice cream. It proved a difficult task. Fruit flavors tend to be icy because of the copious amount of liquid (juice and water) they house 'neath their permeable skins. These peaches were no different. But war was waged, and fires forged in the attempt to battle back the ubiquitous foe: Isie ('icy'). I wanted to replicate a real peach flavor: an ice cream that tasted like the origin it was derived from. So, I set foot to ground in the local farmer's market in search of true, homegrown peaches fostered by real, working, sweating Alabamians. And did I ever? One stand was teeming with peaches: large, ripe, and globular like the harvest sun as it sets in all its golden furry. Once I disclosed that I was making ice cream, the owner of the 'peach tent' showed me around back. There he offered me a bushel of peaches that were 'over-ripe', and discounted because he couldn't sell them. So, I took him up on the offer, and lugged the fifty-pound box homeward. The creation began.

(all the luscious peaches might have drawn me in, but this sign at the peach stand is really what caught my eye)

For the peach base, I used milk, cream, eggs, sugar (my standard base), and those peaches. To replicate that unequivocal peach taste, I first had to remove their fuzzy clothes. This is a simple procedure: take a knife, and cut an "X" into the base of the peach, (I must confess I got carried away, and began pretending to be a masked hero like Zoro when he wields his keen blade, and carves a "z" into the necks of countless foes. But I was Xzoro...) then just drop them gently into a pot of boiling water for ten minutes. Remove them with a slotted spoon, or by pouring them into a colander, then surprise them with a blast of cold water. This scares them, allowing for their belts to loosen a bit. Let them cool, and they will do whatever you want; their clothes will slip right off...Now, back to the issue at hand. Once peeled, I cut the peaches into irregularly sized chunks, and put them into a pot with organic honey. I brought it to a boil for a minute, reduced the heat, covered the pot, and cooked for ten more minutes until they were very soft. The flavor was, to quote my uncle, "out of this world". The honey brought a natural sweetness to the sweet/tart taste of the peach. The honey-peaches in the pot I then put into a food processor and whirled until they were a smooth burnt orange sludge. But don't let the word 'sludge' out you off. I like to think that this is how food would taste on the sun, where everything is molten and orange and crazy good. The puree was then added to my sweet cream base, and allowed to cool overnight to let the flavors fuse and congeal.

For the honey-caramelized peach chunks I repeated the skin-removing process, then chopped them up, drizzled with honey and sugar, and popped 'em in the oven to broil for ten minutes. 'Elementary, my dear Watson.' Then I put them in the fridge to cool.

I took the peach-base out of the fridge the next day, and congeal it did. It was the consistency of pudding. This is always good, the thicker the better, I say. And it made for a rich, creamy ice cream. While churning, I threw the caramelized peaches in to let their flavor seep into the freezing ice cream, and also to harden.

Alas, the battle was over. The result was magnifatory, though war never comes without a price: after freezing for a few hours, some of the ice cream became slightly icy (such a fowl word in my line of work). The peach chunks, due to their juice, were the most icy of the experiment. The ice cream itself was creamy, and I was pleased with that. Nevertheless, the peaches did provide a texture difference from the creamy ice cream, and a bite into one brought forth Summer on a tidal wave of flavor like a new dawn rising, spreading its arms over the field of battle (my kitchen). And that was my goal: to embody Summer and capture it in an ice cream flavor; and I think peaches did this perfectly.

To all those who tried it, I hope you enjoyed it. The quest is on-going here at Shireshack, and I must venture on to realms unknown, seeking new and exciting ice creams, and always pursuing to defeat my greatest enemy: Isie. Until then see you next week.

-Reese O'Shirey Esq.