Creamy vanilla ice cream recipe from the faux martha

When I take Hal to swimming lessons, Mr. Noah always asks, “What’s your favorite ice cream.” (He teaches them to swim by scooping ice cream through the water.) Hal always responds with, “Vanilla.” And Mr. Noah always waits, even after the vanilla proclamation, expecting a new ice cream flavor. A less, you know, vanilla flavor. No, not from this family. We love a good old-fashioned homemade vanilla ice cream. One that’s creamy and super scoopable straight out of the freezer with no trace of ice. That’s this recipe. Read more

I seem to have my most “profound” thoughts after watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Though, maybe they’re the thoughts of Shonda Rhimes, spoken by the character Meredith Grey. Despite the tall story lines, Shonda manages to inject the shared realities of being human into the plot. I love, too, how circular she writes for the show. Each episode ends exactly where it begins. “Freezing, choking, getting tongue tied. It’s what we call it when your mind goes from brilliant to blank. You can prepare all you want. But the feeling can still hit you out of nowhere. So when it hits you, when your mind shuts down, when you open your mouth and no words come out, the good news is, it happens to all of us.” That’s how the episode begins, triggering another one of those profound thoughts. This time the mouthpiece was Jackson Avery. Read more

A Scoop of Black (vegan chocolate ice cream) | @thefauxmartha

The sprinkler runs as we try to salvage our patchy lawn. First time homeowners. Seizing the opportunity, she puts on her swimsuit. I’m glad I skipped buying that $7.99 kiddie pool at Target. It would have been a better mold-grower and debris-collector anyways. She runs a miles worth up and down the driveway, dripping wet, under the canopy of droplets that touch the rays of sun before landing on her. Then the tears show up. I look for blood from the inevitable stubbed toe. Nothing. Read more

Toasted Oatmeal Ice Cream | The Fauxmartha

This time last year we were driving up the coast of Connecticut, Massachusetts, and Maine on a babymoon thinking parenthood can’t possibly be as hard as they say. My, my, my how different a year can look. Read more

Nutella Syrup | The Fauxmartha

I debated—do I update the Salted Nutella Latte recipe that sparked this search for a Nutella Syrup and run the risk of you not seeing it, or do I give it the spotlight it deserves with a new post? The decision was an easy one—make sure no one misses this recipe. The original latte recipe, which I’ll leave intact, calls for heating milk and Nutella in the microwave until combined, then adding/making simple syrup. It’s a bit cumbersome (and unfit for an iced version) but when Nutella is involved, one will go to great lengths. I have good news and bad news friends: I’ve removed the great lengths part.  Read more

Cookies and Cream Milkshake | The Fauxmartha

It feels like spring! Even if only for a couple days. The first batch of ice cream of the season has been churned. And since been blended into a cookies and cream milkshake. My skin is wrinkling at the corner of my eyes and my lips are stretched far across my face. Ahhh, it’s getting warmer outside! I’m all smiles. Since things are heating up around here, it’s time to do some celebrating with a giveaway. Read more

Have you heard a heart beat before? Sometimes I like to sit and watch the vein pulse on my husband’s neck. It’s rhythmic. It’s comforting. It’s my favorite feeling.

My sister and I came home this weekend. She’s in school to become a Physician Assistant. She pulled out her stethoscope, and we started listening. To my heart. It beats slow and steady. To her heart. Slightly faster than mine. To my mom’s heart. It’s even faster with a gurgle. She has Mitral Valve Prolapse. Read more

I’m standing in a fog. The windows are translucent. I can’t see my next step. Although I know it’s infront of me based on experience. But if I quit moving forward, I’ll soon be paralyzed. With muscles atrophied from lack of use.

Fear. Decisions. Change. Deadlines. They can do that to you. Make you stop dead in your tracks. Whisper little lies of inadequacy. They’re like speed bumps. In the fog. Reminding you that the road is rough. And it’s far from perfect. Read more

 
 
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