Rainbow Sherbet Funfetti Cake with Red Currants

Rainbow Sherbet Funfetti Cake
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It’s a long weekend here in Canada, so Toronto has emptied out. It seems everyone in our neighborhood has embarked on a kayak adventure or returned to a cottage. And we, lacking both, have done neither. Instead, we’re getting reacquainted with the lawn chairs that live in our backyard. And no, I’m not bitter about it because we’ve turned it into a full-on party complete with cake. This Rainbow Sherbet Funfetti Cake to be exact. And this cake is nothing if it’s not a party. This cake is so cheerful it makes me completely forget about my lack of kayak. Throw in a cooler full of beer, a good book, and something cooking low and slow on the BBQ, and my backyard is basically cottage country. Oh, and my neighbors are all gone, so its blissfully, if not eerily, quiet. Staycationing has never looked so good.

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Rhubarb Crisp Ice Cream

Rhubarb Crisp Ice Cream

Of the ice cream daydreams I’ve had lately, this Rhubarb Crisp Ice Cream was my favorite. And now that it is a reality, I can’t believe it’s not a thing. I’m not about to claim I’m the first to put rhubarb crisp into an ice cream format. I’m sure someone somewhere has beaten me to the punch. But I don’t understand why it’s not a thing thing. Why isn’t it the new raspberry cheesecake? Why don’t I see crisp ice creams all over town?

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Cognac Peach Galette with Snickerdoodle Ice Cream

Peach season is in full swing here in Ontario and I’ve already eaten my way through 3 baskets worth. And not a single one of those peaches ever saw the inside of a Mason jar or a pie. I ate them as fast as I could carry them home straight from my hand. But when I brought the fourth basket home, I knew I had to make something of them. And today’s Cognac Peach Galette with Snickerdoodle Ice Cream is that something.

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Baked Alaska with Roasted Strawberry Ice Cream & Pistachio Cake

Okay, so this was a stressful undertaking. But about 50% of that stress was completely self-imposed and unwarranted because I expected it to be stressful. From the moment I learned what a Baked Alaska was, it seemed people were lining up to tell me not to make it. Not in a “your thighs will never forgive you” sort of way, but in a “you’ll have to scrape your self-esteem off of the kitchen floor” way. It’s been relayed in a hundred different ways and through a multitude of mediums: Baked Alaskas are difficult. So, naturally, I was a hair afraid of this dessert.

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