Ooh I want you, I don't know if I need you, but ooh, I'd die to find out. .

I know, I know. I promised bacon ice cream next. But seriously, folks, the weather. . .it’s just been disgusting lately. I’m not going to say it’s too hot for bacon—it’s never too hot for bacon—but it’s too hot to cook bacon in my tiny little kitchen. Plus, it seems like bacon ice cream might be a bit heavy (but delicious), and I’ve just finished the heavy (but delicious) Guinness Ice Cream.

So instead, we have Cherry Coke ice cream. Credit the inspiration for this to Grad School Reject, who pointed out in the Guinnice Cream comments that since Coca-Cola had worked so well in the Georgia cake, it should be good as ice cream. And there’s a certain logic to that. Think of it as math: if X + Cake = Good, then X + Ice Cream will also = Good. X can equal chocolate, strawberry, coffee, cinnamon, cheesecake. . .

You get the idea. So I googled “Coke Ice Cream.” What I came up with were recipes for Cherry Coke ice cream.

“Glaaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhhh. . .” I said, letting my tongue loll out like Homer.

I settled on this one, which was contributed by someone named “azlinda” who lives in Maricopa, AZ. Holla! I figured someone from Arizona could be trusted for a good Cherry Coke recipe, because if there’s one thing we know in Arizona, it’s how to do seemingly unholy things with Coca-Cola products.

The mise en place.



As you can see, you’ll need a pint of whipping cream, two 12 oz cans of evaporated milk, 2 cups of Cherry Coke, a jar of maraschino cherries, and 2 cups of sugar. You also need a dash of salt, and the recipe says something about “Milk, as needed, to fill freezer.” But as you’ll soon learn, that last proved not to be an issue.

First I drained the jar of maraschino cherries.

I reserved the juice because I’m pretty sure it’s good for some sort of cocktail related purpose. Or, you know. Breakfast. What? It’s juice.

Then you have to stem and chop the cherries. What a royal pain in the ass. Oh, if only—if only—I had some sort of device to speed the chopping process. Say a product such as you might see on TV that someone gave me for my birthday. If. Only.

Oh wait. I do. Heh. (One of the top 5 birthday presents ever, by the way) So I lined up some of the stemmed cherries on my Chop Wizard and prepared to guillotine the little bastards

Um. . .

So the Chop Wizard didn’t so much "chop" the cherries as it did mush them into a bloody, gory pulp. These are not necessarily words I want associated with my ice cream preparation. But I pressed on.

Seriously, it looks like I killed someone with my Chop Wizard. Plus, there’s maraschino juice spatter all over my butcher block. If I came home and found this without knowing what it was, I’d call the cops and tell them to send the CSIs over.

They would arrive, and Nick would say “what seems to be the problem, ma’am?” And I’d say “dude, Nick Stokes, someone totally broke into my house while I was at brunch and used my Chop Wizard to kill someone, and there’s blood on my butcher block and bits of internal organs all over the chopper. And I love you.”

And he’d say “Oh, the Chop Wizard, as seen on TV? Does that work?” And I’d reply “with most things, yes. It’s incredible; it’s changed my life. However, it’s not great with ginger. Or chocolate.” And he’d say “Hm. Can you show us to the scene?” And then they’d investigate, which in my mind looks something like this:

I should take this opportunity to remind George Eads that I am absolutely not stalking him.

Anyway. Then you add in the other ingredients—the coke, salt, sugar, cream, and evaporated milk.

As much a fan I am of the Coca-Cola family of fine products, I will never get past how gross and weird the initial separation between cola and dairy looks.

Mix your ingredients together and you get this nice pale pinky sort of cream.

Now here’s the odd part. The original recipe (per azlinda) says to pour the mixture into the ice cream maker, and then add milk to reach the fill line. But using the quantities listed in this recipe, I made so much mix that it overfilled my standard-sized ice cream maker. I had to mix it in two separate batches, which caused a whole ‘nother set of issues.

So if you have a typical home-use ice cream maker like mine, I’d suggest either making only ½ to ¾ of this recipe, or being aware ahead of time that you’ll have to go through the mixing process twice. But when you’re mixed, you end up with something like this:

It’s so damn pretty. If I ever have a daughter (or an adorable gay son, which given my history is probably more likely), she’s getting this every year for her birthday.

Transfer the mix to a suitable container for freezing, and give it 4-5 hours to set. After it finishes freezing, this is what you have.

Here’s the thing: I like it. It’s got a nice, light flavor and the Cherry Coke gives it a sort of effervescence. But it’s definitely not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. It’s very sweet, and it tastes a lot like that pink cake mix with the red specks (which, incidentally, it also kind of looks like). And not just in terms of the initial flavor—the aftertaste is kind of that “cake from mix” aftertaste you get if you eat too much batter. I would guess that’s due to the evaporated milk.

Regardless, I like it, and I’d definitely make it again, especially in summer. Or if I had a pink birthday party to prep for.

Or just as an excuse to get Nick Stokes over to process my kitchen. Because seriously—those cherries were just a world of wrong.