Sichuan Plum

Chinese five-spice—star anise, cloves, cinnamon, Sichuan peppercorns, fennel—paired with roasted plums creates this deep, complex, almost wine-like flavor that’s honestly kind of wild. The candied ginger adds heat and that characteristic crystalline-chewy texture. Your kitchen will smell incredible while the plums roast. Like, offensively good.

You can make your own candied ginger or buy it pre-made. Both work fine. No judgment either way—okay, maybe a little judgment if you buy it. But only a little.

Ingredients

Roasted Plums:

• 4-5 medium black or Italian prune plums (about 1.5 lbs)
• 3 tbsp honey or brown sugar
• 1.5 tsp Chinese five-spice powder
• 1 tbsp rice wine or dry sherry (optional)
• Pinch of salt

Custard Base:

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1 cup whole milk
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 4 egg yolks
• 1 tsp Chinese five-spice powder (additional)
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• Pinch of salt

Candied Ginger:

• 4 oz fresh ginger root
• 1.5 cups water (divided)
• 1 cup sugar
• Additional sugar for tossing

Instructions

Candied Ginger (make 1-2 days ahead, or buy pre-made):

Peel the ginger and slice into 1/8-inch thick coins or matchsticks. Place in a saucepan with 1 cup water, bring to a boil. Boil for 5 minutes, drain. Repeat blanching with fresh 1/2 cup water—this removes some of the bite so it’s not aggressively spicy. You want warmth, not assault.

Combine 1 cup sugar and the remaining 1/2 cup water in a saucepan, bring to a simmer. Add the blanched ginger, reduce to low. Simmer gently for 45-60 minutes until the ginger is translucent and the syrup has thickened. Don’t rush this. Low and slow. The ginger will tell you when it’s ready by looking like little stained glass pieces.

Transfer to a rack set over parchment with a slotted spoon. Dry for 4+ hours or overnight until tacky but not wet. Toss in sugar. Store airtight. Should be chewy-crystalline—that’s the texture we’re after.

Note: High-quality store-bought crystallized ginger works great here if you’re short on time, friend. Just chop it into small pieces and call it a day. We won’t tell anyone.

Roast Plums:

Preheat your oven to 375°F. Halve and pit the plums—don’t peel them. Cut each half into quarters.

In a roasting pan, toss the plum pieces with honey or brown sugar, five-spice, rice wine if using, and salt. Roast for 30-40 minutes, stirring halfway through, until they’re soft, jammy, and caramelized at the edges. The juices should be thick and syrupy. If they’re too thin, simmer on the stovetop for a few minutes to reduce. You want jam, not soup.

Reserve those roasting juices—that shit is liquid gold. Cool slightly. Puree 2/3 of the roasted plums until smooth. Chop the remaining 1/3 into 1/2-inch chunks. Refrigerate both. Do NOT throw away those pan juices. I will find you.

Make Custard:

Heat cream, milk, and half the sugar until steaming. Make your custard with egg yolks and the remaining sugar to 170-175°F. You know the drill by now. Don’t let it boil or you’ll have sweet scrambled eggs, and nobody’s here for that.

Pull it off the heat. Stir in the additional five-spice, vanilla, and salt. Strain it.

Fold in the plum puree and those reserved roasting juices while everything’s still warm. Should turn this gorgeous purple-pink and smell absolutely amazing—like spiced plums at a holiday market that’s way fancier than you.

Cool over an ice bath. Taste it cold—plum should hit first, then five-spice warmth with that distinctive star anise note that’s kind of licorice-y but in a good way. If you hate licorice, first of all, what the hell are you doing here? But also—it’s subtle enough that most licorice-haters don’t even notice it.

Refrigerate at least 4 hours or overnight.

Churn:

Churn until soft-serve consistency—the fruit content makes this denser than standard custard, so be patient. In the last minute, add the chopped roasted plum pieces and candied ginger pieces.

Freeze 4+ hours.

Notes

Chinese five-spice:

Star anise is the dominant flavor, with cloves, cinnamon, Sichuan peppercorns, and fennel backing it up. This blend has been used in Chinese cooking for literally thousands of years—it appears in ancient texts from the Han Dynasty. The combination is designed to hit all five flavor elements in Chinese philosophy: sweet, sour, bitter, pungent, and salty. That’s not just good cooking, homie—that’s an entire philosophical framework in a spice jar.

Buy it from an Asian market if possible—it’ll be way fresher than that jar that’s been sitting in the international aisle for literal years. Pre-ground five-spice loses its aromatic oils quickly, so look for the freshest you can find or, if you’re feeling ambitious, buy the whole spices and grind them yourself. The difference is no bullshit—it’s significant.

Sichuan peppercorns (the secret weapon):

These aren’t actually peppercorns—they’re the dried husks of berries from the prickly ash tree. They create this unique tingling, numbing sensation on your tongue called mala (numbing-spicy), which is completely different from the burn of chili peppers. Combined with the warming spices in five-spice blend, you get this complex layered heat that’s fucking fascinating.

In ice cream, the Sichuan pepper’s numbing quality is subtle but adds this mysterious tingle that makes people go “wait, what is that?” in the best way. You’ll see their faces change and it’s hilarious as hell.

Plum types:

Use black or Italian prune plums—they’re sweet-tart and not too watery. Often labeled simply as “prune plums” or “Italian plums” in stores. These are the smaller, oval, dark purple ones—not the big round red plums. Don’t grab the wrong ones—it actually matters here.

Season: summer only, like June through September. Can use frozen off-season, though the texture won’t be quite as good. The variety is crucial—regular round plums have too much water and not enough concentrated flavor. Prune plums roast down into this jammy, almost wine-like intensity that you absolutely need for this recipe.

Why roast:

Roasting concentrates the plums’ sugars and allows the five-spice to penetrate deeply into the fruit. The Maillard reaction creates these complex caramelized notes that complement the spices. Don’t skip this—raw plums wouldn’t have anywhere near the same intensity. It’s the difference between “meh” and “holy shit.”

The roasting juices are essential—that’s where all the spice-infused, caramelized plum flavor lives. Don’t leave it in the pan like some kind of monster. Every drop. Every drop.

Ginger-plum pairing:

Classic Chinese combination that goes back centuries. In traditional Chinese medicine, ginger is considered “warming” and plums are “cooling,” so they balance each other. In cooking, the ginger’s sharp heat and the plum’s fruity acidity create this perfect tension that keeps your mouth interested.

Candied ginger (tang jiang) is traditional in Chinese sweets and preserved fruits—it’s been made for over a thousand years as both a confection and a digestive aid. The crystalline coating gives you textural contrast against the creamy ice cream while the ginger heat cuts through the richness. It’s one of those things that just works, and you don’t question it.

Cultural context:

Sichuan cuisine is famous for “mala”—the numbing-hot flavor profile that comes from combining Sichuan peppercorns (the numbing) with chili peppers (the hot). It’s the defining characteristic of an entire regional cuisine, and it’s been that way for centuries. This ice cream borrows the numbing half of that equation and pairs it with roasted plums and five-spice, which draws on a different but equally deep Chinese tradition: preserved fruits. Li hing mui, huamei, and other spiced dried plums have been popular snacks across China (and throughout the Chinese diaspora) for generations. The idea of pairing stone fruit with warming spices and a tingling sensation isn’t experimental—it’s deeply rooted in Chinese flavor logic. We’re just freezing it.

Make-Ahead:

• Candied ginger: Make up to 2 weeks ahead, store airtight (also makes a great snack, but pace yourself)
• Roasted plums: Make a day ahead, refrigerate (puree and chunks separately)
• Custard base: Make the night before churning—the five-spice mellows and melds overnight in a really good way

Spread this out and it’s barely any work on churn day. Don’t be a hero. Use the time.

What it tastes like:

Deep wine-like plum up front—not candy-sweet, real plum, dark and jammy with tart edges. Five-spice builds underneath, warm and complex—especially that licorice-y star anise note humming through everything. Crystalline-chewy ginger hits in pockets of concentrated heat and texture. Then a subtle tingling across your tongue from the Sichuan peppercorns—not spicy exactly, just this electric alive feeling that makes everything taste brighter and more interesting. Complex and sophisticated without being pretentious about it. Like wearing a really nice jacket to a barbecue, chief.