I think every kid has a Pavlovian response to the sound of the Good Humor truck.  When it rolled through my childhood neighborhood, or parked at my grandparents’ pool in summer, or when it was afternoon break at Breezemont Day Camp, there was only one treat I wanted – the ice cream sandwich.  Not for me the red, white, and blue rocket ship-shaped ice or the flat top push-up cone covered in chopped nuts.  I never chose the other two options at camp, which were the oddly artificial tasting fudgsicle or the unearthly colored orange creamsicle.  No, I wanted the classic, the basic, the vanilla ice cream sandwiched between two malleable chocolate cookies.  Gripped between my thumb and fingers, I turned the sandwich vertical and licked the thick white line of the ice cream before it had a chance to ooze out between the cookies in the hot summer sun. 

Recently, H and I were in New York, and I had a sudden craving for a gourmet ice cream sandwich.  We were in Chelsea and I knew I would find a great one on the High Line, that wonderful urban park filled with native plants that follows the old train tracks on the west side of Manhattan.  And I did, at the Melt ice cream sandwich cart at 30th street, where I indulged in two chocolate walnut chunk cookies nestling a round of vanilla ice cream. 

At home a few weeks later, both the New York Times and Washington Post food sections devoted articles solely to ice cream sandwiches.  The Post explored creative flavor combinations, like rice krispie treats with peanut butter ice cream and almond cookies with cherry ice cream.  The Times went old school, offering a recipe for the chocolate sandwich cookie of my youth, but suggesting store bought vanilla ice cream to fill.   I split the difference, baking up a tray of chocolate cookie goodness while persuading H to harvest handfuls of our spearmint and make me a batch of mint ice cream.  You bake the cookie until just set so that it is pliable, cut it in half and spread it with the just-churned ice cream.  After sandwiching the halves together, you wrap the whole tightly in plastic wrap and pop it as quickly as possible into the freezer for several hours.  Once hardened, it comes out and is cut into individual squares, each about 2 inches on a side.  The chocolate mint combination was divine, hitting my classic childhood memory with a jolt of grown-up gourmet.  It’s amazing there are any still left in the freezer…..

j.

Mint ice cream

• 1 cup milk
• 1 cup mint leaves
• 2 cups heavy cream
• 2 eggs
• ½ cup sugar
• 1 Tbsp corn syrup

Steps

• Combine milk and mint leaves in a blender; liquefy
• Filter through fine-mesh strainer into small saucepan
• Stir cream into saucepan
• Heat slowly to just below boiling, stirring frequently
• Reduce heat to simmer; cook for 7 minutes, stirring constantly
• Remove from heat for 15 minutes
• Whisk eggs in a small bowl
• Return milk mixture to low heat
• Whisk eggs into mixture, then sugar
• Stir until mixture begins to thicken
• Filter through fine-mesh strainer into bowl
• Place in larger bowl half-filled with ice water
• Stir until mixture reaches room temperature
• Add corn syrup and mix well
• Place plastic wrap directly on top of mixture
• Chill overnight in refrigerator
• Churn per ice cream maker’s instructions