A few years ago I was told a story that I wasn’t able to verify today when I tried to google it. It’s possible that it was true then and no longer is, but I feel certain that it was true at least at that time, as the source had great bona fides re urban planning.  

The story is that in Paris — and possibly in all of France, I don’t know  — when a shop deemed to be essential became vacant, it could be replaced only by exactly the same business. So, only a butcher could replace a butcher, a baker a baker, etc. The purpose of this was to keep every neighborhood viable and to support a certain quality of life, and a period of several years had to pass before the local council, if no appropriate replacement appeared, could throw in the towel and allow a change of occupation in the location. Assuming that the burden of supporting the vacant property fell on the government (i.e., the tax payer) rather than on the landlord — this is a socialistic agenda and I would think it fair that community goals be financed by the community — I think this is a great idea. I well remember the neighborhood shops of years past: drug stores with soda fountains, butchers who knew your name, chic dress shops. So many of these have now been replaced by franchises and, to be fair, they may provide things the government here provides only for the indigent and the elderly. Health care, for example. But I do wish the good shops of the past were still with us, especially the mom-and-pop bakeries.

I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, so What’s for Dessert? isn’t a question that pops into my mind very often. Some fruit, some cheese, another glass of wine, I’m good. I have a cousin who, after inviting a few people over for dinner, would always pass around a giant chocolate bar and a knife and let everyone have at it. This passed muster, then. But sometimes one must do what one must. The inevitable birthdays and holidays. And yes, dinner parties.

When I was young and foolish I once had a big party, 50 or so people, and what was I thinking. I followed a Julia Child suggestion and served, in big wine glasses bought at Pottery Barn, scoops of vanilla ice cream topped with a pour of Jamaica rum and a sprinkle of powdered instant espresso. This was, in fact, pretty good, but it was a lot of work at the last minute. Good to keep in mind for a small number, though, and by the way, coffee ice cream with Kahlua is also up there.

The following recipe can be done ahead and it looks like you took some trouble, or anyway more than is actually required. I got the idea from something I saw a few years ago which combined vanilla ice cream and orange sherbet, a callback to the Creamsicles of my childhood. A good thing about this is that it can be varied according to your menu, or even to holiday color schemes. Chocolate sorbet or ice cream, with coffee and vanilla ice cream and a chocolate/chopped nut sauce, sounds like a good experiment, although I haven’t tried it. If you think about it, you can come up with your own. The following combination is one I thought would be good following a hot and spicy curry. And it was, and looked pretty on the plate, too.

Festive Ice Cream with Blackberry Sauce

The picture shows two slices on the plate. If you have a deep loaf pan and increase the amount of ice cream — doubled would probably do it — one slice should be fine. This will serve eight to ten, and leftovers, if any, can go right back into the freezer, it keeps well. The sauce can be made well in advance, put into a glass jar (I like glass, especially with acids) and frozen until needed.

One pint mango sorbet
One pint coconut sorbet
One pint vanilla ice cream
3 cups fresh (or frozen and thawed) blackberries — this is about 12 ounces
1/2 cup sugar
4 TB. creme de cassis — if you don’t have this, you should, you can make a good aperitif called a Kir with it. A bartender once told me the cassis made in Dijon is what you want to look for.

Puree the blackberries, sugar and cassis in a blender until smooth, then strain through a fine mesh sieve, pressing on the solids. This sauce can be frozen, as above. Thaw when you are ready to assemble the dessert, or make and keep it in the refrigerator, several days is fine.

Put your ice cream and sorbet into the refrigerator for about an hour. It should be well softened throughout, but not to the point of liquifying.  

Lightly oil a loaf pan — I use a very clean aluminum meat loaf pan, 9x5x3 inches — with a neutral oil. Cut a piece of parchment paper to fit the bottom, and then cut paper to fit each long side, each of which should have a paper overhang of at least three inches.

Put in alternating layers of ice cream and sorbet, ladling in the sauce between each layer. Use the photograph as a guide, you want to create an interesting effect. Press down on each layer before adding the sauce, to avoid leaving air pockets. Smooth the top, fold the paper over it, and freeze. This can be done in advance, a day or several.

When ready to serve, run a knife between the ice cream and the pan on the short ends, pull the paper to the sides, invert onto a platter, remove the paper.  Cut into ½-inch thick slices. To save on last minute agita, you can unmold this in advance, cover with plastic wrap and put back into the freezer. Slice at serving time. Put some sauce on the plates, pass extra sauce separately.

A patisserie on every corner, that’s what I say, hurrah! It’s possible the government's goals might not be the same as mine at the moment, though, so face the fact that you may be required to bake something one of these days. With what’s going on in Ukraine, a major wheat producer, you might think about buying a bag or two of flour against an uncertain future. Put the bag into a zip-lock bag and keep it in a dry, cool place.

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Written by
Pamela Osborne