Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Okay, so lately I've been actually "busy," which is totally annoying. And personally, I hate it when a blogger I like to read is all, "Sorry I've been too busy to post!" because it produces a vast swell of existential angst inside of me, like, "Well, why haven't I been too busy to check the blog? Should I be busier? IS THEIR LIFE MORE BUSY AND IMPORTANT THAN MINE??"

Of course, 1) It doesn't take a great deal to produce a vast swell of existential angst inside of me; 2) This is very conceited and assuming lots of people are going to be sad/annoyed that I haven't been posting as much/am apologizing for not posting. OH MY GOD MAYBE NO ONE CARES EXISTENTIAL ANGST!

So in the spirit of being busy (WHICH I PROMISE IS NOT FOR INTERESTING OR IMPORTANT REASONS), I decided to post Really Old Pictures of Food: Five-Minute Ice Cream.

Ice cream?
I can hear you saying to yourselves. I can't make ice cream from scratch! I'm much too busy and important! And, um, that sounds hard!

It does sound hard. But the beauty of this recipe is that it's not hard. Like at all. But but but! It's still making ice cream from scratch. And if you make things from scratch...well, you're just better.

I'll let the lovely "My Drunk Kitchen" explain it. Jason drew my attention her. I can't think what reminded him of me. Except everything.

 Here's the one where she uses "accoutrements" -- I like to say that, too! I like to talk in bad Spanish, also! And she's an acutetarian! SOUL TWINS!

And here's the one where she talks about ice cream and rants about people who make things from scratch thinking that they're better. Also, the recipe I'm about to show you is easier/more successful than this one:

Okay, so five minute ice cream! In picture form!


In food processor...

Process, process, process...


Oh, you still want the "recipe," you say? Well, here tis. Basically, you dump frozen fruit, cream, sugar, and vanilla into a food processor. It becomes ice cream!

And you made it from scratch. Sort of. Because you're just better.

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