Dark Chocolate, Date and Sesame Pops

By MarielC

Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups full-fat Greek yogurt
• 1 cup whole milk
• 8 large pitted dates
• 2 tablespoons tahini paste
• 3 tablespoons honey
• 3 ounces dark chocolate, chopped

Details

Servings 1
Adapted from recipes.latimes.com

Preparation

Step 1

minutes, plus freezing time | Makes about

Place the yogurt, milk, dates, tahini and honey in a blender. Blend until smooth. Sprinkle in the chocolate, cover and pulse briefly to crush the chocolate and incorporate the chunks into the mixture.

Divide the mixture evenly among the pop molds, pouring so that you leave about one-half inch of headroom at the top. Once they are filled, tap the molds gently against the counter, allowing the liquid to settle evenly into the molds and dislodging any air bubbles that may have formed. Cover the molds and fit with a popsicle stick, if necessary. Freeze the molds until completely firm, at least 5 hours. For easy unmolding, run the frozen pops under warm water for 10 to 15 seconds before removing them.

These days, however, my taste in icy treats -- and frankly, my tolerance for electric food coloring, corn syrup and gum stabilizers -- has changed. I prefer pops made from ingredients I can pronounce and in a kaleidoscope of fresh flavors. And judging by the success of artisanal-pop makers like Popcycle and Popshop in Los Angeles, and the others like them that have recently appeared in places such as New Orleans and Brooklyn, N.Y., I'm not alone.

And why should I be? Has anyone ever been handed a pop and suppressed a smile? Whether bright and studded with fruit or smooth and shiny like stained glass, ice pops are playful, big in taste, low in guilt and easy to love. Even better: They're nearly as easy to make.

Just remember, if you can pour it, you can make a pop out of it. Milkshakes, smoothies, puddings and purees -- they'll all work. For that slick, pudding-pop texture, try dissolving a bit of powdered gelatin in your base. But beware: The act of freezing dulls flavors, so be generous with your spices and sweeteners, or what tasted great in your glass may seem dull once it's on a stick.

After all, I thought, to beat the heat, Turks sip tart ayran, Indians turn to lassis, and Iranians, fizzy doogh. I craved creamy. And I was armed with a refrigerator full of thick Greek-style yogurt, some fresh herbs and a bowl of ripe summer fruit. Why shouldn't I do the same?

I began with a play on one of my morning staples -- a lush scoop of yogurt studded with chunks of ripe banana and a shower of shredded coconut. Into the blender they went, along with a winding, amber river of honey and a drizzle of milk. Whirr, whizz and voila: The next day I ate breakfast on ice.

Soon I had a flexible recipe written around four parts: yogurt, liquid (usually just a splash of milk), fruit and an herb or spice. I found that cantaloupe sang when paired with spicy shards of candied ginger, and a pint of blueberries got a boost from a teaspoon of dried lavender blossoms. Dates and dark chocolate took on new dimensions alongside a few salty spoonfuls of sesame tahini. I tasted between pulses of the blender, and if a batch seemed to need a bit of extra sugar, I simply stirred in a bit of honey or sweetened condensed milk. But even the most austere attempts -- like an ivory version that combined only buttermilk, fresh-squeezed citrus and mint -- managed to satisfy both my sweet tooth and my creative impulses.