I'd guess that whoever first said "you can't go home again" probably wasn't a cook. Sure, mom's short ribs are mom's short ribs, but mom also has email and can write down recipes and now I don't need to hear family gab about how [PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE REDACTED] is destroying America just to get a taste.
Another case in point: Ovaltine, which gets precious little love on our fair site, but was one of the foundational flavors of my childhood. Because we were a healthy household and didn't do chocolate milk, Ovaltine was a solid after school ritual.* And I'm betting I'm not alone: that there are lots of Ovaltine fans out there who'd mix up a tall glass with triple the recommended amount of powder when no one was looking. Or just eat the powder straight when the milk ran out. Every time I drink, or cook with, Ovaltine, it's something of a time warp.
* I know, I know—Ovaltine isn't actually healthy. But it was the 90s, the milk mustache was still cool, and Ovaltine cleverly positioned itself as the healthy alternative to all the other drinkable sugars on the market.
I've explored using Ovaltine in ice cream before, but there it played second fiddle to milk chocolate. In this recipe there's nothing to get in the way between you and the Ovaltine in all its creamy, malty glory.
Except...for some chopped up toffee. Because if we're going to play at nostalgia, we might as well go all the way, and folding chopped up candy into ice cream is a surefire way to get a kid to do whatever you want, forever, as long as he or she gets a taste. Plus, malted milk powder is pretty sweet stuff; some salty crunch is just the thing to balance it out.
This recipe is pretty easy as far as ice cream goes, and flexible, too. Want to add nuts? Almonds and hazelnuts would be right at home. Cookie dough more your speed? Go right ahead. Pretzels would be great too, but best as a topping; they'll get too soft suspended in the ice cream.