Caramel Ice-Cream

 My new aluminum saucepan, with bubbly, milky caramel.

So! It turns out my last attempt at caramel-making was such a failure because I used the wrong type of pot to boil the sugar. Who knew the container made such a huge difference? (I suppose everyone did, except me.) Apparently, an iron pot will most certainly burn its contents because it is not sensitive to temperature changes, and will continue to cook even after it’s been taken off the fire. I began to see this warning everywhere after my caramel fiasco. I suppose I saw these warnings before as well (after all, I am consulting the same books and websites), but only the viscosity of burnt caramel has made it stick to my memory. There really is something about first-hand experience, I have to say.

My quest for a proper aluminum saucepan took me to… the market. Now, anyone who’s met me will attest to the fact that I’m about as likely to shop at the market as the Dalai Lama is to frequent an opium den. An American farmer’s market? Why, yes. The Sunday market in France? Oui, bien sur! But a Korean market with fish flopping in their bins of shallow water, the smell of a hundred types of kimchi wafting through the air, the sight of middle-aged, good-for-nothing, browned and balding men drunk on soju in the middle of the day? Ick. I think not.

Not unless I have an obsession. And that I have. So I found myself in Gwangjang Market, across the stream from Bangsan Market (a completely different type of market, quite unthreatening and totally awesome), feeling very very out of place. Because I am about as bad at bargaining as Donald Trump is good at it. And I know it shows; I have this look about me that from one angle reads “naïve,” from another angle reads “stupid,” and from all angles reads “easy.” I hate how after I inquire about the price, they look me over in a flash and pause for a split second, sizing me up, before answering. And I know they’ve just jacked up the price, special, just for me. Even so, I can’t haggle; the words just won’t come out. I end up silently shelling out the cash, or worse, doing without something I need. Uhg. I think barcodes were made for people like me, so we can all be cheated equally.

But I have to say, differential pricing seems to be fizzling out in Korea. Maybe people aren’t that desperate anymore. Or maybe they’ve finally learned that such practices drive people like me, en masse, to the department stores and supermarkets. Whichever way around, I didn’t feel particularly overcharged, even as I handed over my very last bit of cash. And with my new saucepan in hand, the market began to look rather charming, in its own way, perhaps even worth exploring one day. You know, the variety, the vibrancy, the vivacity that only an Asian marketplace can offer. Oy! I’ve become one of those women, the ones that become ecstatic at buying a pan.

Alas, no pictures document this mini adventure. But perhaps it was for the better – a camera would’ve marked me as a true imposter.

I finally found vodka that perfectly suits my needs! I’d been searching for the cheapest (or smallest portion of) vodka at every liquor store I came across, but they all seem to be produced in places like… Spain. And come in 500 ml bottles. Um, no. And no. This is a 50 ml bottle; the blue thing in the background is a teaspoon. And the Danish variety should be fine. I’m hoping the vodka really does help the ice-cream stay frozen because my ice-creams, as good as they are, seem to revert back to puddle-state in no time.  

 Yummmm! The saucepan worked! Not a hint of burned flavor, all sweetness and goo. I’d have to say, it’s the best ice-cream I’ve made yet (except the chocolate chili I made with my friend last year, but that’s pre-project and a whole different story).

Caramel ice-cream and pie. ‘Nuff said :)