LOL

we're so back (kinda). plus,redemption ice cream. kiss and make up?

Hello, friends! Long time no talk. I’ve been bogged by a lethal combination of Shut The Hell Up Stupid Girl syndrome and Good Clean Fun, hence my silence on this platform. However, I return, tail between my legs and recipe in-hand, ready to get the ball rolling again. 

You didn’t miss much: first, I turned 26, and for some — certainly arbitrary — reason, it feels great. Way better than 25. More on that a different day. I went to San Diego, LA, and Mexico, and spent a lot of time moving like a tourist about my own city. I gave myself a shotty trim, vacuumed my car, developed some comedically tragic sunburn lines, and bit my nails every single fucking day.

A few weeks ago, I went to a writer’s group with a friend, the kind of odd, mishmash, misfit, esoteric kind of meetup that I needed to suck me out of my anxious professionalism. Most of the writing shared was horrible at best, which was, incidentally, excellent. I needed to be reminded that most art exists only to exist, not to be good. And that the act of creating something, whatever medium, will always feel better than merely viewing it. So I started writing again, a lot. Lucky for you all, it’ll never see the light of day, but that’s not the point. The point is that it exists whether it made it to anyone’s inbox or not. 

As someone who is always on deadline for both work and play, it’s incredibly easy to slip out of my self-imposed publication schedule. And not only is it easy, but it’s fun. I get to both create more space for myself as a writer and stiff myself as an editor. No piece today, I say to myself, looking down my nose. Art takes time, I say. (Even if the “art” in question is an email newsletter and a casual recipe.) But the funny thing is, I believe the last thing on earth a writer needs is time. Space, sure. But not time. Much like how staring at a word long enough will morph it into gibberish, staring at one’s own writing for too long will almost certainly render it garbage. And there begins the cycle: Loosening arbitrary enforcements on creativity —> Too much time chasing the carrot of perfection. As if anything I’ve ever touched or made has been perfect. 

Surely, if I prolonged getting something to you a mere moment more, I’d potentially never publish again. So here is one brief recipe to shake the dust off. Enjoy this Strawberry Basil No-Churn Ice Cream. We had a handful of glorious days in SF last week and this ice cream perfectly punctuated a night of grilling with friends on the deck. 

You’ll need: 

• a carton or 3-ish cups of strawberries, quartered

• a pat of butter (maybe a tablespoon or so), cubed

• a healthy pour of sugar

• a solid two handfuls of fresh basil, chopped finely

• a can of sweetened condensed milk 

• a pint or 2-ish cups of heavy cream

In a baking dish, combine the chopped strawberries and butter. Top with a healthy pour of sugar and mix gently to combine. Cook the strawberries for about 30 minutes at 400 degrees. Pull them out of the oven when they look syrupy, and let them cool completely. 

Once they’ve cooled, blend the mixture until it’s pureed. Then, pour into a bowl with the chopped basil. Add the can of sweetened condensed milk and a pincha salt and set aside. 

Whip the heavy cream with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form. Add it to the strawberry mixture and stir thoroughly. Pour the mixture into a loaf tin and put a layer of cling wrap directly on the surface of the ice cream. Freeze for at least 6 hours. 

and there ya have it. apologies again for my radio silence, and my ever-so-average return. looking forward to being present here again!

xo liv