Berries with a View

Sometimes – not often – things just turn out better than good. The pieces all fall into place. The planets align. The stars smile. And for a little while the bittersweetness of life tastes just right.

The last week of April I spent in Mexico, four nights in Mexico City followed by three nights in Valle de Bravo. Mexico City in recent years has been an obsession, along with banda music and the men who listen to it, the history of the Conquest, telenovela superstar Gabriel Porras, and the migration pathways that join communities in Chicago to remote landscapes south of the border. 

Normally when I travel pretty much as soon as the atavan I take for the plane trip wears off I start to think about getting home. But this time I was weirdly content with my surroundings, perhaps because I had a lot of worries I was glad to leave behind and also because we stayed in a charming hotel right on the border between Roma and Condesa, the two most urbane and hip neighborhoods in Mexico City. The heat, the dust, the birdsong, the bougainvillea spilling over the walls of the rooftop hotel terrace and the purple jacaranda blossoms hanging from the trees lining the street -- even the traffic was mildly intoxicating. Never mind the twilight soccer game on the plaza in Parque Mexico! But the real gem was Valle de Bravo.  

We rented a house a short walk above the town. A dirty poorly ventilated villa (I am being generous with my language), somewhat shabbily furnished, definitely in decline, but with a glorious terrace with a more glorious view. Everywhere in Mexico the food was beautiful, but in Valle it was more beautiful. Walking the steep cobbled street to the Zocalo, the fragrance of mangos from the market filled the air. The only sensation I can recall that compares is a lilac scented breeze on a warm June afternoon many many years ago.

Each day for lunch we had tostadas. A crispy round of tortilla spread with a thin layer of refried beans, topped with shredded chicken and perfectly ripe avocado, and drizzled with a sour cream. A salsa verde on the side completed the picture. For dessert we had berries – strawberries and blackberries – in a similar cream, slightly sweetened. Berries that tasted like the view. Normally when I travel I find the greatest pleasure is to return home. But not this time.  

Last week at the grocery store right at the entrance baskets of California strawberries and blackberries from Mexico were piled high. The fruit fates were speaking to me, remembering me. So I bought a basket of each, and then a container of crème fraiche. At home that night I stirred a bit of honey into a big spoonful of the crème fraiche, poured it over my berries, and sat down to my dessert. As an attempt to return to a moment once past, the result was actually very pleasing, only the crème fraiche was thicker and more sour than I had desired, and the berries weren’t holding the heat of the midday sun. 

It was a nice try, I said to myself, but time to move on. And honestly, the crème fraiche by itself I found just a little disgusting. But it had cost real money – the only good kind of money – and I didn’t want to waste it. I happened also to have a half dozen eggs in the refrigerator, and a container of half and half with a rapidly approaching expiration date. And then it hit me:  crème fraiche ice cream. 

And then what happened?  

I don't like to do anything in a hurry, but the next afternoon I stirred a cup of the half and half into the crème fraiche and let it sit at room temperature for a couple of hours. With a cup of milk, five egg yolks, and three quarters of a cup of sugar I made a simple custard. The two mixtures I combined and froze in my ice cream maker (a Simac Il Gelataio I found used online about eight years ago; definitely my best moment ever on ebay). 

The ice cream right out of the maker is superb, but it is even better after having ripened in the freezer over night. You can’t really taste the crème fraiche on its own. It's been tamed by the cold, though a clever palate might wonder at the source of tang. As I was working I thought I might add some blackberry jam at the finish, but it tasted so clean, so bright, so unadulterated, I stopped myself in time. I did make a little caramel sauce however to finish it off. The serving in the picture was my treat this afternoon. It doesn’t take away my desire to return to Mexico.  But it definitely eases the pain.