So, yes, plan ahead. As the sternly worded, multi-lingual instructions for the ice-cream maker will tell you, trying to rush will lead only to tears, frustration, and why-isn't-this-working-Dad??

(Then again, settling for an It's It isn't the worst thing that could happen. Ah, It's Its, how I love them! Just one of the many things to cherish about our fair city. The unexpected flavors, like cappuccino and mint; the little picture of the chocolate coating flowing like lava over the oatmeal cookies: all in all, a masterpiece of corner-store gustatory seduction, if you ask me.)

And while your paddle is churning away, doing all the work for you, you can dip into Of Sugar and Snow: A History of Ice Cream Making, by Jeri Quinzio. Quinzio, a food historian and the author a previous book on ice cream, leaves no Eskimo Pie unexamined in her painstakingly detailed exploration of ice-cream making from its beginnings in mid-16th century Europe to its meteoric rise in popularity during the early years of the 20th century in America. As you might expect from a book capped with 23 pages of scholarly citations (and funded by the University of California Press Foundation, as part of its California Studies in Food and Culture series), the accretion of minutia (Want to know exactly who first held the patent on the ice-cream cone? Or the many apocryphal stories of its invention? Or how fancy versions were once piped with icing around the top, dusted with chopped pistachios, filled with a mixture of ginger ice and apple ice cream and finally served on a doily-lined silver tray?) can be a little mind-numbing.

Quinzio, although clearly a dogged researcher, is no Mark Kurlansky, a writer who can make even the most ordinary of topics (cod, salt) into rollicking good reads. You really have to want to know what Quinzio has to share, but for those with a serious appetite for culinary history, the nuggets can be worth it. Who knew, for example that ice cream was aligned with the anti-alcohol Temperance Movement, posited as the family man's happy-making substitute for beer?

Surely even Quinzio would forgive you for putting down her 200-page magnum opus in exchange for a spoon, a banana, and a maraschino cherry. Think all your pals are too busy these days to get together without 3 weeks' notice? Just put out the magic call--There's homemade ice cream in my freezer! Who wants a cone?--and the doorbell will ring, I promise you. Very quickly, I discovered that I couldn't stop at strawberry. With recipes from Ina Gartner's book Barefoot Contessa Parties! on hand, I soon had a freezer full of homemade vanilla, caramel, and bourbon-caramel to go with the strawberry. Which led, even faster, to a whole bunch of impromptu parties, buoyed by tea, champagne, bowls of cherries and plates of fancy little cookies. Easy, sweet, and perfect for summer.

Strawberry Ice Cream
Proportions are pretty flexible here; if you want a less rich (but slightly icier) ice cream, you could use half milk and half cream. The sweetness will get less pronounced once the mixture is frozen, so keep that in mind as you sugar your berries.

Makes 1 quart

Ingredients
4 cups heavy cream
1/2 to 3/4 cup sugar, depending on sweetness of berries
pinch of salt
2 pint baskets ripe, fragrant strawberries, hulled and roughly chopped

Preparation
1. Over low heat in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, warm cream, 1/4 cup sugar, and salt until sugar is dissolved and cream is hot but not boiling. (Boiling will make the cream separate, not what you want.) Remove from heat and let cool.

2. Meanwhile, mix strawberries with 1/4 to 1/2 cup sugar. Crush some of the berries with the back of a spoon. Let berries sit, covered, at room temperature, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved and berries have released their juice. Taste strawberry mixture for sweetness, adding more sugar as necessary.

3. Refrigerate cream and strawberry mixtures separately for several hours or overnight, until very cold.

Of Sugar and SnowOf Sugar and Snow

Ice Cream!