I scream

Four thousand year ago, someone in India got the brilliant idea to strip a sesamum of its seeds and sprinkle them on a bagel. Approximately 3,975 years later, another well-meaning sap used them to decorate a hamburger bun. To this day, legend has it that sesame seeds are the most nutritious part of a Big Mac. It's an urban myth I swear by.

Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, people were grinding sesame seeds into wonderful things, like tahini, pasteli, flavored kim, and gomashio, a mix of ground sesame and salt found on some Japanese tables as a condiment. (Or, alternatively, gomashio is a phrase used to describe salt-and-pepper hair. I love it when the world feels this small.)

Finally, thank goodness, someone thought to grind up black sesame seeds and make ice cream.

About once a year, usually in the summer, I consider getting an ice cream maker. Peaches and strawberries and lychees and melons -- I love sorbet. In Paris, they use nutella. In Kamakura, they use sweet potatoes. It sounds outrageous and fun. But my kitchen is small and the investment is large, especially when you consider this one weighs 33 pounds.

Thank goodness for Tokyo Midtown, the shopping and business behemoth around the corner from my apartment. I rarely get past the basement, the food court and emporium, where you can buy Kyodo tofu, handmade onigiri, and $100 cantaloupes. It all makes an ice cream maker seem like a bargain, I know.
















Still, it's easier to plunk down 550 yen, about $5, and get a single serving of black sesame ice cream. If you like peanut butter ice cream, you'd love this flavor. If you've never had peanut butter ice cream, what are you waiting for? I got this little tub at a patisserie that, funnily enough, sells chocolates and jellies and ice creams, but no baked goods. What it lacks in flaky dough it more than makes up for in creamy goodness. Black ice cream? It's a dream.

And I'm still thinking about that ice cream maker. Maybe this summer will be the one. Especially after seeing a recipe for yuzu sorbet. Maybe that fancy fruit store has a tub that will tide me over.