The Whole Dole

It's warming up outside. It's time for popsicles and ice cream. Time to eat your frozen treats in total abandonment with sticky, grape, orange and cherry stains to match the love fest.

That's why I strip my kids down to their undies to eat such treats. And I hate laundry.

With that said, I'm not so big on pre-made, processed frozen treats. They're okay once in a while, but I much prefer the kiddos getting their treat fix with natural juice pops or whole fruit "ice cream", which they can eat with their clothes on, because apple juice doesn't stain (or make your kids crazy) like red dye 40.

I guess I should teach my kids the word sorbet. Apparently I don't want them to look like junior food snobs when they play with the other four year old kids. (read next sentence in a hoity-toity voice.) "We had a palate cleansing dish of sorbet between our first and second course. What did your mom make?"

So the "whole dole" is like the whole enchilada, or shebang, or...you know what, I don't need to explain. You get it. It's everything. The whole pineapple. (I teach workshops on how to rabbit trail, if you are interested.)

I got this idea this morning. Instead of super sugary sorbet, or super fatty ice cream, why not save my fleeting waistline and feed my kids some extra fiber, by blending an entire pineapple, freezing it in the ice cream maker and calling it the "whole dole" sorbet?

Earth-shaking, I know.

Side note on the whole fiber thing. I LOVE chomping on the core of the pineapple. It's fibrous texture and juicy, watery content satisfies that need-to-gnaw-on-something/puppy dog nature of mine.
 
Well, I believe one could, if one was so inclined, could give oneself diarrhea by chewing and consuming one too many pineapple cores. It's merely heresay. I may know a girl who did that, once.

The Whole Dole Sorbet

1 whole, fresh, ripe pineapple

Take off it's jacket, remove core, chew on the core, lop the flesh it into chunks and whiz away into oblivion in the food processor. Pour into ice cream maker and freeze. It comes out almost fluffy. I think air gets whipped into it in the food processor. Interesting texture.

Word on the sorbet firmness...I'm weird about making homemade sorbet. It must be eaten immediately after it's made. I find that homemade sorbet, when frozen in the freezer after its jaunt in the ice cream maker is, well, solid as a rock. It looses it slushy texture. So while we are all eating our dinner, I have the sorbet churning away. It's a great incentive for slow and picky eaters, to hurry up and eat. The soft and gentle whirring sound of the ice cream maker as it goes round and round is like kid-brainwashing that sends this message: "Eat your food, child. Eat!"

We are going to be eating a lot more sorbet around here.

Love Ya, Friends.