Learn ice cream with Elakiya.
Teaching about ice cream can be a fun and engaging way to explore science, history, and culinary arts. Ice cream provides a tangible connection to the world of food science, the history of frozen desserts, and the various flavor combinations that exist.
About Me
I am elakiya, a professional ice cream maker with over 10 years of experience
A recipe for making ice cream with and without an ice cream machine, explain the role of different ingredients, and delve into the history of ice cream.
Learn ice cream with elakiyaviswanathan practice more than 100 + flavours of ice cream recipe.
Popular courses
our popular flavours are infused fruits flavours, different types of chocolates flavours and our signature recipe.
Easy steps to follow
we’ll provide all need ingredients to make ice cream and help to do step by step process of ice cream.
Delicious recipes guarantee
Definitely you’ll feel connecting the flavour.
Clear audio & video
After the session we’ll provided the audio and video clips of day to day classes.
What my students say about the courses
Olivia Holmes
Julia Moore
Roberto Lopez
Maria Anna
The latest from the blog
Normally when I go radio silent in the ice cream blogosphere, I typically have pretty lame excuses…things like IBS (Irritable Blogger Syndrome), inability to achieve a healthy work-life balance, general blogger laziness, a hectic social calendar, or more often than not, an obsessive Type A personality that makes it impossible to actually enjoy my artistic hobbies due to paralyzing self-doubt and agonizing attention to detail.
Well blog friends, for once my absence has been well-warranted as I am here to share not one but TWO major life updates with you all:
1) We bought a house!
Finally.
For those of you who have been following the blog for some time, you know we’ve been looking for a house for FOREVER because I had a very specific “vision” in mind (read: unrealistic expectations) and I’m excited to announce that we’ve finally found the ONE.
After five years of searching.
And she’s a beaut!
But she’s also a ton of work (you tried to warn us, but we didn’t listen).
I absolutely positively LOVE Log Cabin. Potentially more than my own life.
I love it in a dirty, shameful, horrifying way – like the way I love eating Arby’s Beef n’ Cheddars while watching Monday Night RAW wrapped up in an old pilled blanket. It fills my soul with the supreme bliss and sense of serenity that can only be achieved through artificial maple flavor and loads of high fructose corn syrup. It’s the taste of my hopes and dreams, a sensory memory of the best moments of my childhood.
As you all know, I love to create self-imposed drama for the sake of entertainment, but when it comes to the sense of guilt I feel about my breakfast syrup preferences, I truly do experience a genuine sense of shame and disgust that I can’t rally behind natural maple syrup. I can’t tell you how much it pains me that rather than support small family farms across America, I choose to give my dollars to the Corporate Machine. That I knowingly pollute my body with artificial colors, flavors, and preservatives. That my palate isn’t delicate enough to recognize and appreciate the delicate flavor of real maple syrup. But you guys..I can’t stop.
I made a pretty big commitment to myself that when it comes to food, I would try to make most things from scratch, be as healthy as possible (aside from my ice cream habit, of course), and consume mostly all-natural things. And in most areas of my life, I’ve been successful.
Except for maple syrup.
I’ve tried to love it, I really have. I’ve purchased bottles upon bottles of Vermont and even Ohio syrup…but there is a tiny part of my soul that dies every time I abandon my beloved Log Cabin. Natural maple syrup just doesn’t taste maple-y enough (or at least, the definition of “maple” that slowly developed in my brain and taste buds after a childhood comprised exclusively of Log Cabin consumption).
I need that sweet and savory artificial maple flavor, that suspiciously-thick pour, and above all, that iconic cabin-shaped bottle that tells me all my Sunday breakfast dreams are about to come true.
Although I love Log Cabin on basically everything (Elf-style), my absolute favorite vehicle is homemade buttermilk waffles. Just thinking about how those little nooks on the waffles hold onto the Log Cabin like puddles of syrupy goodness fills my heart with the purest form of joy.
Even though it’s technically “Spring” and the sun is partially out and the birds are chirping in the morning, the weather gods of Ohio have decided to grace us with one more massive snowfall, and the extended chill has me craving big, cake-based breakfasts, hard. So I figured, why not resurrect the blog from the dead and make an ice cream that has all my favorite breakfast components in one scoop?
And before you ask – yes of course I used Log Cabin (though if you’re not a total heathen like me, feel free to use actual maple syrup).
This ice cream is a savory, textural experience: swirls of sweet and sour berry compote break through the creamy base with a hint of maple flavor. To top it all off, REAL waffles that have been toasted and chopped up for a bit of crunch and that cake-like texture. I know this seems like a ton of effort, but you can just use frozen waffles, or even leftover waffles from breakfast the day prior. (As the kids say, you do you).
Since my goal for this ice cream was a clean maple flavor, I used an alternate technique that utilizes cream cheese rather than egg yolks. The flavor was exactly what I had hoped for, but be warned that this ice cream freezes harder than typical egg-based ice creams so you’ll need to give it time to soften outside of the freezer. Set this out while you’re eating dinner, and by the time you get to dessert you should be golden!
This ice cream is not for the faint of heart – it’s for die-hard breakfast fans. I hope you love it as much as I do!
Happy scooping little blog fam! It’s good to be back 🙂
If you’ve spent any amount of time following this blog over the years, it probably hasn’t been too terribly difficult to ascertain the three general truths of my existence:
- I love ice cream
- I’m mildly to moderately dramatic
- I have an absolute and unwavering adoration for Akron, Ohio (a.k.a. the best city ever in existence)
My love for Akron runs deep. It’s where I went to school, got my first real job, and met my husband. It has the best people, best parks, best burgers, and best basketball player(s)…but obviously I’m partial.
And now, Akron’s got another thing to add to its resume:
World’s best honey.
Honey? But don’t you get that on a farm? Surrounded by cows and flower and nature? Surely not in an urban center full of houses and shops and businesses?
Never fear, dear reader! I too, had these questions. And we’ll get to them, in a moment. Just not before I get to give you my typical longwinded and overly complicated assessment of the situation.
My husband works in Akron, and because he’s quite literally the Best Person Ever, he goes for walks on his lunch break and procures items from local businesses and surprises me with said items when he comes home (trust me, I know I’m spoiled rotten).
One day Hubs came home with a beautiful, deep amber bottle of honey from Akron Honey Company, and I was immediately skeptical. Sure, I love intriguing bottles of culinary items and anything that makes reference to Akron, but honey and I don’t exactly have a stellar history…
(And I’m sure you’re surprised I have a petty bone to pick with an entire food group).
It’s a long story, one that starts at McDonald’s as a six year old and ends in my kitchen during adulthood (as many of my stories do, strangely enough). I’ll spare you the nitty gritty details and give you the key highlights…
Like most good Midwestern children, there were few things in life that I looked forward to more than a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal. Because my mom was generally concerned about my health and wellbeing, I was only afforded this pleasure about once a week or so. But during those occasions, my life was pure bliss. I simply cannot express the joy I felt dunking those little boot-shaped pieces of processed delicacy into the accompanying dipping sauces – I savored each moment!
Although many children my age experimented with several different sauces, I was a ride-or-die BBQ sauce kind of gal. As far as I was comcerned, this was the only real choice, and I never switched. NEVER. I was brand loyal.
One day, I just happened to be chilling with a friend when much to my delight, I discovered the prospect of fast food was more readily accepted in her household than mine, and before I knew it, I was on my way to Nugget Heaven. As we pulled around to the drive-through window and I got ready to request my tried and true BBQ sauce, I was interrupted by a horrifying sound – the sound of my friend ordering honey dipping sauce. Naturally, I was thoroughly and utterly appalled, but because at age six I already understood the importance of conforming to social norms to build healthy relationships with others in my peer group, I too orderd the honey dipping sauce.
I dunked my nugget, took one bite, and my life has never been the same ever since.
I’m not sure if it was the chicken nuggets themselves, or the undoubtedly low-grade honey, or the combo of the two. But I’d never experienced anything so horrifying. Regrettable. Awful. Deplorable.
Thoroughly disgusted, I never really had too much to do with honey from that day forward, because I assumed I just didn’t like (but in reality, it’s because NOBODY should be dipping nuggets in honey. Not even a six-year-old. Bleh).
After that first experience, I dabbled with honey every now and again, but always indirectly. For me, honey was never the star of the show…it was always the trusty sidekick in stable marriages like honey mustard, honey Sriracha, or honey peanut butter.
I’ve always wanted to love it, I really have. I mean, Winnie the Pooh eats honey exclusively and he’s so excited about it he can’t even wear pants, so it MUST be good. But alas, the joys of a honey-rich existence escaped me indefinitely.
And here I suddenly was so many years later, standing in the middle of my kitchen at the cusp of this major honey crossroads.
Hesitant, I licked a little honey off of my finger, and I was completely and utterly floored. It was unlike any honey I had ever had before – it had this rich, amazingly floral, almost savory flavor. Before I knew it, I had entered into a magical world of honeyed perfection as I devoured spoonful after spoonful.
As I started researching the Akron Honey Company and learning more about its background, I fell even more in love. The company’s apiary is smack dab in the middle of an (extra)ordinary Akron neighborhood, on a plot of land that was previously abandoned (hence the term “urban” honey. See? I told you I’d answer your questions eventually).
Rather than harvesting a bunch of honey at one time, the owner employs a microbatching method, meaning he harvests the honey in small batches (hipsters, take note of my use of the term microbatching). Aside from producing an amazing product, this company’s mere existence is contributing to the greater good of Akron – they’re out there making a difference, demonstrating that all it takes is hard work and a novel idea to make a huge impact on a city and its people.
I was hooked on this honey, and knew I needed to pay tribute to this awesome product with a similarly awesome ice cream concoction. I nearly crumbled from the pressure: do I go with something heartbreakingly hipster but slightly overdone, like a honey lavender or honey vanilla? Or do I go with my gut and make something ridiculously gluttonous?
You can probably judge from the title of this post that instinct won out. I’m a huge fan of honey butter (another stellar honey marriage), but honey butter alone didn’t feel special enough. As you guys know, I tend to prefer ALL THE THINGS in my ice cream, so I went a wee bit overboard and made homemade sticky buns then smashed them into a delectable swirl. This part totally isn’t necessary – just the honey butter ice cream is fantastic on its own, but the sticky buns add a layer of texture and interest to the finished product.
The result? A honey-licious (which may or may not be the title of my future autobiography) ice cream that’s equal parts chewy, sticky, salty, and creamy. With an extra hit of honey drizzle at the end, its the ultimate in comfort food.
I’m pretty annoyed that it took me this long to realize the joys of truly good honey, but I’m very much looking forward to making up for lost time this summer.
Urban honey? That’s where it’s at.
(Just not with chicken nuggets. Never that).
Happy scooping!