Yes, yes, I know – Monday’s predictions of this week’s awesomeness were wildly innaccurate. Shut up.
Every time I see the brilliant yellow of supermarket lemons I think, “Mmm. . . lemonade. . .” Today, while doing the classic “just a little shop on my way home” thing, I saw lemons on special and grabbed two as I flew past (knocking down pensioners with my trolley and elbowing young mums out of my way as I raced for the checkout).
As I write, I’m sipping the sweet beverage itself. Mmm. . . lemonade.
In my (incredibly recent) experience, two small lemons + a bunch of water + three-quarters of a cup of sugar = two glasses lemonade.
But there’s more. My rather sarcastic friend Ben (yes, the one of “Frolic in a Fountain” fame) tasted my lemonade (many eons ago now) and said, “It’s too acidic.”
“Never fear!” I cried. “I’ll add more sugar at once!”
He shook his head slowly. “No. . . sugar is acidic too.”
“Don’t be a fool!” I expostulated (probably while gesticulating). “Are you trying to claim that sugar isn’t the solution to both this and every other problem of mankind?”
He ignored me and went to my fridge, muttering, “Alkaline! We need alkaline!”
I eyed the exits and calculated whether or not I could beat him outside if he grabbed a knife and attacked me.
Eventually, he grabbed. . . a pack of bicarb soda. He said, “This should work.”
With grave doubts about him and everything he and his science degree stood for, I added a small amount of bicarb to the mix, and tasted it.
That moment changed my life.
It was the best lemonade I’d ever tasted. Not only did the bicarb soda keep the wonderful taste intact while eliminating the mouth-puckering pain, it gave the drink a tiny hint of fizz that I love to this day. Thus, in today’s batch of lemonade I added half a teaspoon of bicarb.
Play along at home: This is easy, cheap, delicious, and protects you against scurvy. So get to it, you maggoty excuse for a landlubber’s dog!
Tomorrow: Something awesome. (Haven’t decided what yet. Plans are for sissies.)