The Dinner Bell is a love letter to food, family, and memory. It’s where I share heritage recipes, revive forgotten dishes, and pair them with stories and sips from my California kitchen. I recreate the original, zhuzh up the flavor when needed, and offer adaptations for how we eat today, so don’t miss a bite. Subscribe and join me at the table every week.
Summer meant everything to us growing up: bike rides with salty ocean air in our lungs, road trips to the Midwest in our beloved blue bus or the family RV, and most deliciously, farm visits followed by homemade ice cream. There’s something magical about watching a wooden ice cream maker churn away, the salt and ice grinding together as anticipation builds for that perfect cone-worthy scoop.
My grandmother Clara’s recipe box (or perhaps it was my great-aunt Mary Lou’s – family lore gets fuzzy) holds countless treasures, including this wonderful strawberry-honey ice cream recipe that has been passed down through four generations of our family. It sits alongside the insanely good lemon ice cream in our family hall of fame – each with its own devoted fans.
I can still picture those childhood excursions with my mom in Huntington Beach, just a mile from the Pacific. As our devoted Girl Scout leader, she was always planning adventures – from mushroom farms to petting zoos and, of course, berry picking. Each of us would clutch our baskets at the coastal farms, following our unofficial family rule of “pick two, eat one,” though my basket always seemed suspiciously light by day’s end. By lunchtime, our fingers were stained pink, cheeks flushed from the ocean breeze, and our baskets (mostly) filled with ruby-red treasures destined for this creamy delight.
The honey is what makes this recipe truly special – a tradition born of necessity during World War II sugar rationing that evolved into a signature family flavor. That floral sweetness brings something to the party that plain sugar never could. While my mom doesn’t specifically remember this exact recipe, she does recall countless summer days churning ice cream at Mary Lou’s home, creating sweet memories alongside sweet treats.
Fast forward to today, and desert living has changed my relationship with strawberries. With our 100+ degree temperatures, the local strawberry season ended a couple of weeks ago. Those delicate berries simply can’t withstand our intense summer heat. Now we depend on the farmers who ship these jewel-toned delights to the local grocer, allowing us to enjoy this family tradition year-round.
I did have a slight mishap with this batch – apparently, I need new glasses! I accidentally read the tablespoon line for the sea salt and used that same measurement for the honey instead of the full cup. Only discovered my error after completely churning the ice cream. The result? A delightfully tart concoction – like a grown-up sweet-tart in ice cream form. Not exactly what Clara intended, but honestly, who doesn’t love SweeTarts?
Of course, I made a second batch the proper way (though we could just say I followed the berry-picking rule – kept 3/4 cup of honey for myself and added only 1/4 to the ice cream). That second batch? So extraordinary, it almost didn’t survive long enough to firm up in the freezer for our after-dinner treat.
What I love about this recipe is its simplicity – like good baking, it’s not complicated, just thoughtful. The beauty lies in those restful pauses between steps, giving you time to clean up, prepare other dishes, or simply sit with a cool drink while anticipating the final result. The gentle warming of the custard, the patient chilling, the rhythmic churning of the ice cream maker. When you finally take that first spoonful, creamy and bright with the essence of sun-ripened berries and floral honey, you’ll understand why we’ve been making it this way for generations.
