a nice sprummer beverage.

Because one day it’s 80 and the next day it’s 60. Sprummer. Tell your friends.

Our CSA adventures continue apace. There are 18 Cubanelle peppers sitting on my kitchen table right now. There are two ziploc bags full of lettuce in the fridge. (The way you keep lettuce fresh for days and days is you wash it, lay the individual leaves out in one layer between two sheets of paper towels, and store the whole mess in a ziploc bag.) There are more potatoes than I knew were in the world in my crisper drawer. But let’s not talk about the slow-moving produce catastrophe that is my fridge. Let’s talk about strawberry lemonade.

I am extremely picky about lemonade. 99% of it is either too sweet or too tart, and I tend to be hard-pressed to figure out how to fix it without pushing it too far in the other direction. But there was this restaurant by my college – one of those places that isn’t so much “really good” as “super convenient and therefore has a license to print money” – and they did an absolutely killer lemonade. It had so much crushed ice in it that it was functionally a lemonade slushy, and it was neither too sweet nor too tart. A lemonade and a spinach & goat cheese pizza from the Med was dinner at least once a week in college.

Well. College was some time ago and I had honestly forgotten about the Med’s lemonade until last summer, when my partner handed me a glass of homemade lemonade and I almost had a fucking heart attack. That was it. It lacked crushed ice, but otherwise it was perfect. This week, our fridge overflowing with summer strawberries, I remembered that the Med also did a strawberry version of their fucking perfect lemonade, and I decided to take our least fresh strawberries and make up a pitcher of Medici-style strawberry lemonade. Here’s how you do it. You’ll need:

1 quart strawberries
1 dozen lemons
1 liter plain seltzer
Maple syrup

First, juice a dozen lemons. My partner, as part of his dowry (his dowry! ha. I kill me.), brought to the relationship a neat glass citrus reamer that I can finally after a year look at without thinking it belongs in specialty pornography, and I used that. Strain the lemon juice through a wire mesh strainer into a pitcher. Use a rubber spatula or wooden spoon to press the pulp against the strainer to get every bit of juice you can.

Now, rough chop a quart of strawberries. If you have less than a quart, that’s fine. More would probably be fine too, but I wouldn’t do, like, two quarts without commensurately increasing the rest of your ingredients. Anyway. Rough chop your quart and dump it into the pitcher. This chop can, in fact, be pretty rough. The strawberries will macerate in the lemon juice, and getting a nice chunk of strawberry in your glass of lemonade is one of the nice things about this drink.

Next, take a potato masher and “muddle” the strawberries a little. Or maybe you’re a cocktail maven and you have a muddler. (I just googled, and a tool for muddling is literally called a muddler. Incredible.) Anyway, however you do it, muddle the strawberries.

Add your liter of seltzer.

Finally, sweeten to taste with maple syrup.

This’ll keep in the fridge for however long it takes you to drink it. We let the strawberries sit in the lemon juice overnight and added the seltzer today and have already drunk half of it so that is how that is going.

About Sara

I like to talk about media, food, and gender.
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