How to Make Sn'ice Cream (Snow Ice Cream):
Arrange for snow.
The more, the better.
Four inches, freshly fallen, is our personal rule of thumb.
You will need eight cups, give or take. But do leave it outdoors, for the moment.
Have heavy whipping cream on hand. Ideally, before the snow falls. We like to keep a half-gallon of this in our refrigerator, at all times.
If you must venture out, do. You won't regret it. Even if only to your neighbor's house. You will, after all, only need three-quarters of a cup.
Whip your not-quite-cup of heavy cream with two-thirds of a cup of confectioner's sugar, plus two teaspoons' pure vanilla, until billowy, plump peaks form.
Don't let it go grainy. But do give it a decent pompadour, a swoop of backbone.
(What's that? Will you be needing an ice cream maker? Heavens, no! This is no Freeze-Your-Container-24-Hours-in-Advance-and-Don't-Curdle-Your-Custard-and-Churn-Thirty-Slow-Minutes-and-Dirty-Four-Pots Ice Cream Project. This is two-minute sn'ice cream, folks. So no, no machines here.)
Now send someone, ideally under five feet, outside with a warm coat and a large bowl. Ask them kindly to fill it with snow. Clean snow. Not the boot-stomped stuff.
If you have four inches, this SO won't be a problem. Tell them to go for broke, to fill the thing to overflowing. You'll only need eight cups or so, but this will buy you two minutes' peace.
Once the coats have been removed, and the boots, and the mittens; and the puddles, wiped up; and the noses, wiped also; and the cold hands rubbed; then, scoop something approximating eight cups' snow into your whipping cream. *Plop*.
Fold the two together gently, steadily, with a spatula. At first, it will look odd and unwieldy, fluffy snow, thick cream, never the twain shall meet.
Persist. This may take 42 seconds. Possibly 67, if you dawdle and pause.
The snow will sigh a little, the cream expand, and the two will become one ivory feather-cloud. Take a nibble. It will taste like one, too.
Eat instantly. Firsts and seconds. Sn'ice cream does not wait, hold, or keep.
Scoop into bowls, and enjoy, as is, or drizzled with chocolate syrup, or two-minute magic shell, or, if you want to sigh and swoon and go twinkly in the eyeballs and hoard thirds for yourself, drizzle with a glug of pomegranate molasses. The tart-sweet treacle against soft airy cream is an ephemeral mid-winter wonder.
It is but January, dear friends. Make sn'ice cream while the snow falls.
adapted from apartment therapy
We found we far preferred the texture when the cream was whipped, in advance of adding the snow. Also, we found a full Tablespoon of vanilla to be a little overbearing. We've tweaked and adjusted the cream/sugar/snow ratio somewhat, but know that s'nice cream is nothing if not forgiving. Snow days were not made for exactitude. This is scoop-and-fling "cooking" at it's finest.
We go through pomegranate molasses almost as fast as maple. Available at most well-stocked grocery stores, and on Amazon.
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream
2/3 cup confectioner's sugar
2 teaspoons' vanilla
8-10 cups fresh, clean, pristine snow
pomegranate molasses, chocolate syrup, or two-minute magic shell, to top (optional)
Whip cream with sugar and vanilla until soft-sturdy peaks form. Fold snow into cream, until just combined. Eat instantly, entirely.