Cinnamon Ice Cream


One of my mother’s day presents this year from Wal and the sprogs was an ice cream machine. It is compact Cuisinart and a gorgeous deep blue (I love the way appliances come in all manner of colours nowadays). It has a 1.5L capacity, which is actually completely adequate, despite my initial greedy misgivings.  I keep the bowl in the freezer when not in use so that it is available at short notice.

I am not sure whether this gift was bought with me or themselves in mind, but I know they were all totally thrilled to give it to me and they have enthusiastically encouraged me in its use!  I won’t talk about how many batches of ice cream it has already made in the short time I have had it…


  • 600 ml full cream milk
  • 400 ml thickened cream
  • 4 cinnamon sticks, broken
  • 4 egg yolks
  • 2/3 c caster sugar

In saucepan bring milk, cream and cinnamon sticks to the boil and remove from heat.

Whisk egg yolks and sugar until light and fluffy. Gradually whisk milk mixture into the eggs.  Return to heat and simmer gently until thickened enough to coat a wooden spoon.

Blend in ice cream machine according to manufacturers instructions.



About baking bohemian

My name is Jen and I am the baking bohemian. My blog identity comes from the cultural background of my mother’s family, (Bohemian), and my mother’s more left wing lifestyle (bohemian). The big ‘B’ Bohemian refers to the rich cultural heritage of our family that emigrated from Bohemia when it was still its own country (it now comprises two thirds of the Czech Republic). Food featured prominently in the family and broader social life of that part of my family. No social interaction was without sustenance, and any celebration, large or small, was an invitation to cook up a storm. My own family emigrated from the United States to Australia when I was a child. For the most part we lived with our mother, and my dad eventually moved back to the US. The little ‘b’ bohemian relates to the semi-alternative lifestyle we led with our mother. I hesitate to refer to her as a hippy, for that conjures up so many misconceptions, but certainly she was on that side of the fence. She was probably more eccentric than radical at the end of the day, but she could really cook. We always set extra plates at the dinner table because inevitably people would visit at dinner time. I started cooking when I was about eight. Cookies. Obviously I was motivated by desire! I loved cooking, I loved that the kitchen was always, in every way, the heart of the house, so I was always part of anything else that was happening while I was cooking. I loved people loving my food. With all the different things that I have done in my life and am interested in, food has remained my most consistent and enduring passion.

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