I hit a little ice cream making phase this past week. Apparently I just did not know when to quit. I made vanilla, then granadilla and then this. Let’s call it what it is: the pièce de résistance of my ice cream making preoccupation: Blueberry Cheesecake Ice Cream.
You should know that this ice cream is gone. Every creamy spoonful which gleefully hid a plump late summer berry has been eaten. All that is left are these pictures. And sadness. In my freezer its place has been filled with trays of ice cubes; an un-comforting resource which yield absolutely no pleasure, simply a small respite from the heat when thrown into tall glasses of water.