Liquorice Ice Cream

When I was younger my family had something called "Ice Cream Sundays" during the warmer months - a sort of seaside version of Sunday lunch that involved huddling around a picnic table at the beach with an enormous pile of fish and chips which we would eat by the handful while fending off attacks from marauding seagulls. The afternoon was always capped off the same way, with an ice cream cone from the nearby kiosk. My weekly choice was always a scoop of dark, not too sweet, intensely flavoured liquorice ice cream, the kind that turned your tongue black as you ate it. This recipe, an adaptation of Nigella's no churn coffee ice cream, is the simplest, easiest way I've found to recreate that taste and take me back to my childhood summers, anytime, anywhere.

When I was younger my family had something called "Ice Cream Sundays" during the warmer months - a sort of seaside version of Sunday lunch that involved huddling around a picnic table at the beach with an enormous pile of fish and chips which we would eat by the handful while fending off attacks from marauding seagulls. The afternoon was always capped off the same way, with an ice cream cone from the nearby kiosk. My weekly choice was always a scoop of dark, not too sweet, intensely flavoured liquorice ice cream, the kind that turned your tongue black as you ate it. This recipe, an adaptation of Nigella's no churn coffee ice cream, is the simplest, easiest way I've found to recreate that taste and take me back to my childhood summers, anytime, anywhere.