Pumpkin Bourbon Ice Cream with Ginger Sandwich Cookies

Sometimes you just need a distraction. Or a new job. Or a pickleback and a bunch of bar snacks. Or maybe you’re feeling kitchen-freaky, like you didn’t expend enough energy on Thanksgiving and you desperately need to make something totally easy yet time-consuming in order to reset your maniacal, holiday-plotting ways. Got it; I can help with that last one. These li’l ice cream sandwiches were on my desserts shortlist for last week, but the burden of transporting a frozen ice cream canister in a packed car to Pittsburgh was such that I opted for a full pie arsenal instead. No matter. These sandwiches still have their place. They're a killer way to put pumpkin in its best and proper light—that is, with booze and lightly spiced.

This is the first Thanksgiving that I can think of where there was no pumpkin pie, which was definitely fine with me. The stuff has never been my favorite, playing umpteenth fiddle to whatever else is on the table, which this year was a veritable smorgasbord of delicious weirdo pies, but I do like pumpkin all the same. And I can’t resist how nice it feels to be baking and making with pumpkin in the fall—it’s ceremonial in a way. So give it a shot if you’ve got the means to make this ice cream. It’s subtle and creamy and a lovely way to pay homage to the last licks of autumn.

Pumpkin-Bourbon Ice Cream

Adapted from Karen DeMasco with logistical help from David Lebovitz

1 1/2 cups whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

1/3 cup + 2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 teaspoon freshly grated ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 cinnamon stick

1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

5 large egg yolks

1/4 cup packed dark brown sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

2 to 3 tablespoons bourbon, or to taste

3/4 cup canned pumpkin puree (not pie filling)

1.  Make an ice bath by putting some ice and a little water in a large bowl and nesting a smaller bowl with capacity for two liters inside it. Set a mesh strainer over the top.

2.  In a medium saucepan, mix the milk, cream, sugar, ginger, cinnamon, cinnamon stick, nutmeg, and salt. Warm the mixture on low heat until the edges begin to foam.

3.  Whisk the egg yolks in a separate medium bowl. Whisking continuously, slowly pour about half of the milk mixture in a slow, steady stream into the egg yolks. Pour the yolks mixture back into the saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring the whole time and scraping the bottom of the pan with a rubber spatula to ensure nothing sticks. Continue cooking until mixture thickens enough to coat the spatula, between 160 and 170 degrees F if you're using a thermometer (but looks alone are good enough to judge!).

4.  Quickly pour the mixture through the strainer into the bowl that's settled in the ice bath. Discard the cinnamon stick. Mix in the brown sugar, stir for a bit to cool, cover with plastic, and refrigerate until well chilled, preferably overnight.

5.  When chilled, whisk in the vanilla, bourbon, and pumpkin puree. Taste, add more bourbon if you like, then strain the whole thing in a fine mesh strainer one more time to ensure that grainy pumpkin doesn't make it into the ice cream. Freeze in your ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. If storing in the freezer, place plastic wrap directly on top to prevent the formation of ice crystals. The liquor helps this ice cream stay creamier than most would, so ours has stuck around for three weeks and still tastes as smooth as it did on day one.

Ginger Sandwich Cookies

Follow this recipe, which has had a starring role in this kitchen since 2009.

I actually omitted the crystallized ginger this time around and increased the freshly grated ginger to a full three teaspoons to compensate. It was delicious!! 

1.  Once the cookies are cool, scoop 1/4 cup of pumpkin ice cream onto the back of one, sandwich it with another, and allow to firm up in the freezer for about 20 minutes. If storing longer than that, wrap in plastic wrap.

Four and Twenty Pies: Pumped for Thanksgiving

Original little sister output at Orphans Thanksgiving, 2008

This Slate article speaks many an awesome thing to writing your own Thanksgiving traditions. It's written by an author whose mother makes pies in a quantity of more than one pie per person. Experimental pies like pomegranate, Depression-era pies like vinegar, Thanksgiving classics that seem less popular, and family favorites like mocha crunch fill her tables (and overflow onto bookshelves), leading her kid to proudly declare the tradition a "grotesque" and "demented" extravaganza.

Tip of the iceberg, Kickasserole 2011

Her excessive baking is definitely something that I admire and aspire to, but it's the author's reverent yet light-hearted treatment of the Plotz family tradition that really gets me. I mentioned it in a previous Thanksgiving post, but the holiday has become one of my favorites since I started celebrating my own way. Currently Thanksgiving week involves an outrageous pre-Thanksgiving vegetarian smorgasbord in DC called Kickasserole and an abundant meat- and booze-filled "Orphans Thanksgiving" with my sister in Pittsburgh. Both days defy what could be considered a reasonable amount of food, although we've yet to hit the Plotz family's 20-pie stride.  

One of three obliterated pie shelves from this year's Kickasserole

Tomorrow's Orphans Thanksgiving dessert menu consists of six pies and tarts, some of which have been featured on this blog before: quince and biscuit pie, pecan frangipane with cranberry, four nuts caramel, lemon meringue, pear hazelnut crumb, and maple buttermilk. The extravagance is sure to be major and the hangovers total, and I totally can't effing wait; full-tilt friends and food and the promise of coming back next year is the best part about my Thanksgiving celebrations.

Simple Apple Tart (For Your Thanksgiving Consideration)

It's officially getting down to the second most wonderful time of the year. As a young'n I sort of dreaded Thanksgiving: it was soccer tournaments in Vegas, college midterms, and too much turkey as my family came to terms with my now defunct vegetarianism. The holiday never really connoted family either; Fourth of July and Christmas did that and they still do. So three Thanksgivings ago I spread my little wings and went to Pittsburgh to be with my sister and the other "orphans" who couldn't or wouldn't make it home to carve turkeys and eat sweet potato casserole with 'mallows. That year was one of the finest Thanksgivings I've yet to experience, as I buckled down to make six pies while my sister roasted a turkey and made Brussels sprouts so buttery that they could stop your heart (and nearly did two years later, but everyone is fine). It ended with me and two pals breaking into a high-society party, downing a lot of Grey Goose, and ultimately punching each other in the face -- perfect.

And now I love Thanksgiving. It's not that I really hated going home or didn't appreciate the fantastic spread that my mom and dad put together every year, it's just that I've loved writing my own traditions with my sister and our friends. Thanksgiving season is now a two-fold celebration: the first is Kickasserole, our now annual pre-Thanksgiving for friends in DC on the Saturday before folks head for home. Last year saw 45 people arrive with everything from vegan apple pie doughnuts to seitan steaks to the absolutely most decadent macaroni and cheese you'd ever hope to meet. This year we've invited twice as many people, and our community Google doc is showing freeze-distilled applejack, beer soup (vegan!), sweet potato gratin, pumpkin-bourbon ice cream, and my first home brew -- a little IPA that's chugging away under the sink right now. And three days later I'll head out to Pittsburgh for the best of all Thanksgiving celebrations with friends, football, a keg, Gooskis, and a round of Celebrity that I excitedly await every single year.

All that to say that as you're preparing for your own Thanksgiving celebrations and writing your own traditions, think about bringing something ever so slightly new to share! Pumpkin pie ain't for everyone, and it really truly ain't for me, so it's recipes like this apple tart that are what I'm looking for this time of year. It's simple as all hell to make, comes together in no time once you have the crust prepared, and it's light and a little sweet -- a super good finish to a heavy, boozy, sports- and friends-filled meal.

Simple Apple Tart
Adapted from Alice Waters

Crust
Recipe for one crust, any kind you like. I used the second rye pie dough left over from this recipe, but there is also this rye crust and this all-butter pastry, both of which are excellent options. Alice Waters's original recipe calls for an all-butter pastry, but rye is so sweet and nice -- give it a shot if you're able.

Filling + Glaze
2 pounds tart, firm apple, any variety; peeled, cored, and cut into quarter-inch slices (save the peels and cores!)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
5 tablespoons granulated sugar + 1/2 cup granulated sugar for glaze

1.  Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. On a lightly floured surface, roll out your chilled dough into a 14-inch circle. Gently place into a 9-inch tart pan, or, if making a free-form galette, transfer round to the back of a cookie sheet lined with parchment.

2. Tightly overlap apples all the way to edges if using a pan, or with a two-inch border of crust if making a galette. The size of your apple slices will determine your apple placement. My slices were fairly large so concentric circles weren't possible. I did two simple rows down the middle, then filled in the sides with slices that were cut in half. Fold dough over apples and pleat at intervals.

3.  Brush melted butter all over apples and dough, and sprinkle dough with two tablespoons sugar. Sprinkle remaining three tablespoons of sugar over the apples themselves. Bake in center of oven until apples are soft with dark edges and crust has turned deep golden brown. Rotate every 15 minutes to prevent burning; tart will take about 45 minutes to an hour to bake.

4. Meanwhile make the glaze. Put all of your apple cores and peels and the remaining half-cup of sugar in a pot, add just enough water to cover, and simmer for 30 minutes. Strain syrup. When tart is finished, remove to a cooling rack for at least 15 minutes, then brush the tart with apple glaze and serve.

Peanut Butter Banana Cream Pie

Topped with halved dark chocolate malt balls.

Between the ages of 12 and 14, I was obsessed with the banana cream pie recipe from The Joy of Cooking. My dad loved it too, which made it easy to find an excuse to make the pie whenever my mom the flight attendant was working. Little more than sliced bananas between layers of whipped cream and chocolate shavings, the pie would hold up in the fridge for about a day before the filling turned slimy and gray and became something that only my dad had the stomach to stomach. While I know that I totally loved banana cream pie, it has grossed me out in recent years since the day-old refrigerated alien mush is much more present in my mind than the fluffy banana layers that beget the mush. Now fast-forward to this year's Kickasserole feast where I ignored my slimy misgivings and revisited the banana cream pie printed in Baked Explorations. This recipe uses pudding instead of whipped cream, and the pie is topped with a peanut butter layer that makes for a sturdier update on the bare bones banana pie of my youth. In short, this recipe is awesome. It would last longer than a day in the fridge, but won't last longer than an hour on your dinner table since it's super good, so I say hop to it and see if you can squeeze this one into your Thanksgiving repertoire.

And a merry Thanksgiving to y'all! Thanks so much for supporting this blog!

Peanut Butter Banana Cream Pie

Barely adapted from Baked Explorations

This pie is seriously easy, but it takes a while to make because of the refrigeration steps. It's a good one to start in the morning and then forget about while you work on other dishes. Also awesome is that the only part that needs baking is the crust. I didn't add any bourbon to the pudding, but I was seriously tempted to; let us know if you customize!

For the crust

6 oz. vanilla cookies (a good time to remember that Nilla wafers taste exactly like marshmallows)

6 tablespoons chilled, unsalted butter, cut into half-inch cubes

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

1.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.  Put all of the ingredients in the bowl of a food processor, and blend until mixture looks like moist crumbs, about one minute. Transfer to a nine-inch glass (glass!) pie plate, and press the crust to the bottom and up the sides until it's even with the rim and even thickness throughout. I do this step by pressing a floured metal measuring cup on the bottom and up the sides, and using the thumb of my other hand to tamp down a rim.  Bake crust until golden brown, 12 to 15 minutes; if the crust has puffed, push it down with a metal spoon. Allow to cool completely. 

For the puddin' layer

1/3 cup granulated sugar

1 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup heavy whipping cream

1/2 cup whole milk

2 large egg yolks

1 vanilla bean split lengthwise

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

3 firm, but ripe bananas

2 tablespoons orange juice

1. In a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan, whisk the sugar, cornstach, and salt. Slowly add the whipping cream, then the milk, whisking the whole time to prevent lumps. Add yolks, and using a small pointed knife or a quarter teaspoon, scrape the vanilla seeds into the mixture. Drop the pod in too. Cook over medium heat, whisking constantly, until pudding thickens and boils, about five minutes. Remove from heat and add butter, whisking vigorously for about two minutes to release excess heat. Spread pudding in cooled crust, and chill until filling is cool, about one hour.

2.  Thinly slice bananas on the diagonal and, in a small bowl, gently mix them with the OJ (this prevents them from turning brown). Blot the excess OJ off the bananas with a paper towel, and arrange the slices in a single layer across the top; make sure to cover completely. Proceed with PB layer.

For the peanut butter topping

3 oz. cream cheese, softened

1/2 cup powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/3 cup creamy peanut butter (not old-fashioned or freshly ground; I used Whole Foods 365 brand)

2/3 cup heavy whipping cream, chilled

Malt balls, chocolate-covered peanuts, chocolate shavings, or any decorative goodness of your choosing

1.  In a large bowl, mix the cream cheese and powdered sugar with an electric mixer until smooth. Beat in the vanilla, then peanut butter, mixing until the color is uniform and the mixture is slightly fluffed, about one minute. 

2.  In a separate glass bowl, beat the whipping cream on medium-high until soft peaks form (not stiff peaks please). Here the directions said to add the whipped cream to the PB mixture in large spoonfulls and fold it in with a rubber spatula. This didn't work well for me though, so I ended up using my electric mixer for about 30 seconds, until the topping was smooth and uniform in color. 

3.  Spread the peanut butter topping evenly across the pie. Adorn with chocolate topping of your choice; I went with dark chocolate malt balls sliced in half. Chill pie for at least three hours, and up to eight.

Spicy Chocolate Sorbet

Sorbet is so much more photogenic if you lick it first.

Joey just handed me a glass of IPA and is now beat-boxing Beethoven and dancing the robot in the center of his bedroom. This is among the many things that I am grateful for this Thanksgiving season, also including knowing some exceptionally talented and fun people in DC who love to eat. Yesterday, my house and I hosted the first of what will hopefully become an annual Thanksgiving for friends, lovingly dubbed Kickasserole, and it was a downright killer if not outrightly hedonistic meal. Our friends and their friends rallied to bring awesome soups, apple pie doughnuts, standout pies, cheesecake, roasted vegetables aplenty, handmade pasta, smoky salads, sopapaillas, and of course, boatloads of macaroni and cheese (vegan and regular; photos to come). I made a few pies and some rigatoni that was fully drowning in gruyere, and with the tightrope walk that is sharing one oven between six housemates and 44 friends, well, I was thankful to have made a few ice creams and sorbets earlier in the week. As you're making preparations for your own feast-y celebrations this week, fear not the convenience and awesomeness of the freezer. In addition to cuties with robot moves and friends with culinary prowess out the wazoo, pie à la mode is another reason to be thankful this (and every) season. 

Spicy Chocolate Sorbet

The basic chocolate sorbet recipe is by David Lebovitz; the addition of spices and booze is my own and inspired by my lovely friend Samantha. Cinnamon is my jam, but next time I might try steeping cardamom pods and adding espresso powder instead of using cinnamon, chili, and brandy. So many good combinations await!

2 1/4 cups water

3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa (use Ghiradelli or better)

1 cup granulated sugar

Salt

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

2 teaspoons chipotle, smoked paprika, or chili powder of your choice

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

6 ounces semisweet chocolate, chopped finely (I used Guittard chips)

1 tablespoon brandy, or to taste

1. Make sure that your ice cream bowl is frozen and ready to churn. Okay, check. In a large pot, bring 1 1/2 cups of the water, the cocoa, sugar, salt, cinnamon, and chili to a boil over medium heat; whisk frequently. Let  the mixture boil for 45 seconds, whisking vigorously the whole time.

2. Remove from heat and add chocolate; stir until it's melted. Add the remaining 3/4 cup water, vanilla extract, and brandy. Put the mixture in a blender and blend for 15 seconds to smooth it out. Transfer to a container and chill the mixture thoroughly, preferably overnight. Then, freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. I then froze my sorbet in the freezer for an additional two hours to thicken it up some more.