Hello, My Name Is Ice Cream

My grandma Eva canned fruit every year, carried from the eastern half of Washington state to Seattle, over the Cascade Mountains. I would stand in her basement storeroom, my back to the wall of toys preserved from my father’s childhood, and stare in awe at the jars lining the shelves as if they contained glistening jewels. I always requested the apricots. Every time I simmer apricots for this sherbet, I am immediately transported to that storeroom, or to her patio where my mom helped me spoon the fruits from the jar without spilling too much syrup.

The golden flavor of apricots, simmered to soft submission, is a perfect match for the African red tea called rooibos. The tea is made of what looks like teeny tiny sticks, and the flavor is warm and luminous like the sun setting over the vast arid plains where this red tea grows. As always, you can omit the rooibos and make a plain apricot sherbet.

Make the apricot mixture. Whisk the apricot puree, buttermilk, almond extract, and malic acid in a small bowl. Set in the refrigerator.

Boil the dairy. Place the milk, cream, sugar Numeral 1

, and glucose in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium-high heat. Cook, whisking occasionally to discourage the milk from scorching. When the dairy comes to a full rolling boil, reduce the heat to a low simmer for 2 minutes Numeral 4

. Remove the pot from heat Numeral 3

Strain and chill. Strain the infused sherbet base through a fine-mesh sieve, into a shallow metal or glass bowl, discarding the rooibos. Fill a large bowl two-thirds of the way with a lot of ice and a little water. Nest the hot bowl into this ice bath, stirring occasionally until it cools down.

Mix the base with the apricot mixture. When the base is cool to the touch (50°F or below), remove the bowl from the ice bath Numeral 2

. Add the reserved apricot mixture to the base, whisking until evenly combined.

Strain. Strain the sherbet through a fine-mesh sieve to remove the particles of fruit that may remain intact. (This step is optional, but will help ensure the smoothest sherbet possible.)

Cure. Transfer the sherbet base to the refrigerator to cure for 4 hours, or preferably overnight. (This step is also optional, but the texture will be much improved with it.)

Churn. When you are ready to churn your sherbet, place it into the bowl of an ice cream maker and churn according to the manufacturer’s instructions. The sherbet is finished churning when it thickens into the texture of soft-serve ice cream and holds its shape, typically 20 to 30 minutes.

Harden. To freeze your sherbet in the American hard-pack style, immediately transfer your finished sherbet to a container with an airtight lid. Press plastic wrap on the surface of the sherbet to prevent ice crystals from forming, cover, and store it in your freezer until it hardens completely, between 4 and 12 hours. Or, feel free to enjoy your sherbet immediately; the texture will be similar to soft-serve.

Best texture Commercial stabilizer 3g | 1 teaspoon mixed with the sugar before it is added to the dairy.

Least icy Guar or xanthan gum 1g | ¼ teaspoon whirled in a blender with the sherbet base after it is chilled in the ice bath.

Easiest to use Tapioca starch 5g | 2 teaspoons mixed with 20g | 2 tablespoons of cold water, whisked into the dairy after it is finished cooking.

Most accessible Cornstarch 10g | 1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon, mixed with 20g | 2 tablespoons of cold water, whisked into the simmering dairy, then cooked for 1 minute.

Sherbet is a style of ice cream I am very attached to. So much so that I got into a public argument about it with my friend Pichet Ong. We were in class at the Penn State Ice Cream Short Course, a week-long immersion offered by the university’s dairy science program. (Ice Cream College!)

As the instructor was describing the legal requirements of sherbet—no less than 2% butterfat, no more than 4% milk solids, yada-yada, department of weights and measures, blah blah blah—Pichet, a seasoned pastry chef, started whispering in my ear: “Ask them about sherbets made with starchy fruits.” I looked at him, confused. “Ask them about sherbets without dairy, the ones that are creamy because they have starchy fruits or fruits cooked with their skins.”

“But those aren’t sherbets. Those are sorbets,” I insisted.

“Alice Waters says in her book that sherbets are sorbets made with starchy fruits. Are you saying Alice Waters is wrong? Are you calling Alice Waters a liar?”

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Yes. She’s wrong.”

Those were fighting words, and our argument moved from whispers to loud hisses. When we realized the whole class was looking at us, I raised my hand and asked the question. The teacher repeated what he had said before—that legally, sherbets have dairy in them. I felt vindicated. My sherbets have dairy in them, and I was right. But Pichet wouldn’t drop it. The next day at breakfast he told me Alice texted and said she’s mad at me for calling her a liar. To this day, I still get pictures of scoops from Pichet with the question, “Is this real or fake sherbet?” I laugh every time.

I don’t bring this up to ask you to choose sides, but to shine light on a faction of pastry chefs who replicate the creamy texture of sherbet by making sorbets with specific fruits. If you open up Chez Panisse Desserts, for example, you’ll see that Lindsey Shere has filled her book with dairy-free sherbets. Pichet, too, has populated his own book, The Sweet Spot, with what I’ve started calling “California sherbet.”

The fruits used to make a California sherbet often contain starches, like bananas or mango, or are high in pectin, from fruits that are cooked with their skins. The starch or pectin acts as a foaming agent, much as butterfat does, trapping the air that is whipped into the sherbet while it’s churning. The pectin also acts as a stabilizing agent, reducing ice crystallization. California sherbets are soft, scoopable, and opaque—often giving the illusion of creaminess—unlike a sorbet, which is aptly called “water ice” by manufacturers.

If you’d like to try your hand at this, you can turn any of the sherbet recipes in this book into California sherbets. Just replace the buttermilk with more fruit puree, and replace the milk and cream with water. Then, follow the instructions for stabilizing the sherbet with both starch (this page) and pectin (this page). The result will be so creamy you’ll understand why Pichet and Alice call it sherbet. Even if they’re wrong.