How I Made Lavender Lemonade and Lived To Tell the Tale...

Half a block away from my apartment is a little organic market.

For someone like me, who makes her own ketchup, this may sound like a good thing.

But, to be honest, I’ll do pretty much anything to avoid going in there.

Don’t get me wrong.  Despite its tiny size, the smart little shop is stocked with fresh and healthy options.  It’s a dream-like hideaway amidst a neighborhood full of fast food joints, slices of pizza, and restaurants that specialize in arroz con pollo.

It’s just….

The woman who owns the shop is THE Most Miserable Woman in the World.

I will never forget the day she snapped at me, “What?  You don’t like my miso?”

And then there was the time I was looking for fresh, organic lentils.  The ones I’d bought at the supermarket wouldn’t sprout.  My friends began joking that I had “old, dried-up lentils”.

Oh!----the facile sexual innuendos I endured….

So when I asked the “nice lady” at the health food store if the lentils were fresh….

“Fresh?  They’re dried beans.  What do you want?”

“But….I know.  I know they’re dried.  But will they sprout?”

“Of course they’ll sprout,” she barked.  “Do you want them or not?”

So I bought them, because she was scary.  And in all fairness, they DID sprout.  But when I was looking for tea tree oil…

“It’s tea tree oil.  That’s all you need to know.  There you go.”

I won’t say the name of her shop.  I’m sure it’s hard to be a small business owner.

But with all the little drawers of herbs, sachets of stimulating teas, and bottles of organic elixirs…

SHE’S MISERABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

She ruins my day.

She’s not a happy person. 

Seething anger is running lava-like from her pores.

She IS Mount Vesuvius.

Upon entering her store, you must be prepared to meet your fate of transforming into a Pompeian plaster cast made from the ash deposits of her rage.

Signed, Pliny the Younger.

So how does a woman surrounded by health and wellness become such a nasty old crone?

I have no idea.

I don’t want to get that close to the volcano.

Recently, I needed some beeswax.

Why?

Well, it’s none of your….

Sorry.  I couldn’t help myself.

But I needed beeswax.  Coming back from the post office, I found myself right in front of her shop.

Oh god help me.

I dreaded going in there.  What means of excoriation would I suffer now?

It was like that moment in a horror film where the crowd at the movie theatre yells out, “Don’t open the door!!!  Bitch, don’t open the damn door!!!!!!!!!!!”

I opened the door.

I seem to recall the eerie ring of a little bell…

A black shop cat scurried deftly past my feet.

I surveyed the room.  Le Miserable was nowhere in sight.  There was a young clerk working that day.  She didn’t race from behind the counter to accost me, so I took my time looking around.  Finally, I got up the nerve to approach the counter. 

“Hi.  I’m looking for some beeswax.”

“No.  Not today,” she waved me off.  “We carry it.  But not today.”

I could tell she was but a few servings of brown rice away from turning into another Nosferatu.

I ran out of there like the time I accidentally found myself in a Santeria shop in Washington Heights.  I thought it was a spice store.

I don’t believe in voodoo.  But it’s not the sort of place you’re “just browsing”.

So today I needed essential lavender oil…

I was this close to hiding a cross in my bag and wearing garlic around my neck.

But I needed it, so I dared to enter the portals…

Happily, I managed to procure essential lavender oil without leaving a broken shell of a woman.  But the newest clerk gave me the fish eye when I walked in the door and had no enthusiasm for my latest jaunt into health and wellness. 

It’s like they’re all dead.  

Health Food Store of the Living Dead.

If you’re trying to eat healthy and you’re miserable, then you’re doing it wrong.

And that’s a whole other chapter. 

So, a few weeks ago, I stumbled across a post about Lavender Lemonade. 

I make lemonade a lot at home.  I just needed the lavender oil and was dreading the Haunted Health Food Store.

You don’t even need a recipe.  Just remember the numbers 666.

And after the Health Food Store story…how can you forget 666?

6 cups of water

6 lemons (juiced)

6 tablespoons of simple syrup.

What is simple syrup? 

Ever try to put sugar into iced tea and notice how some of the sugar doesn’t dissolve and winds up at the bottom of your glass?  It’s because sugar doesn’t dissolve as well in cold water. 

Simple syrup is basically 1 cup of water and 1 cup of sugar.  Put this in a pan over medium heat and dissolve.  When cool, put it in the fridge and you can use it for everything from iced tea to cocktails.

But then there’s RICH simple syrup.  2 cups of sugar to 1 cup of water.  It’s thicker, you use less (bartenders love it because it doesn’t water-down their cocktails), and it keeps longer in the fridge.

This is what I generally make.  And to make it a tiny bit healthier, I use organic pure cane sugar.  While normal simple syrup comes out clear----any kind of raw sugar syrup will be a bit darker.

So---666.  And then you put in one drop of essential lavender oil.

ONE DROP!!!

Yes.  I went thru all of this agony today for one drop.

If you do more than that, your lemonade will taste like the kitchen floor your Spanish-speaking grandma just mopped with Fabuloso floor cleaner.  No bueno.

Garnish with a few extra lemon slices and some mint sprigs---or lavender, if you like.

It’s delicious and refreshing and especially soothing after a bit of yoga!

And to take it one summer-y step further…

Lavender Lemonade Popsickles!

In my ice pop maker, it takes about 2 ½ cups of liquid to fill all 10 molds. 

But I only wanted four popsickles just for me---so I used one cup of the lemonade and added in an extra tablespoon of simple syrup.  Frozen treats need more sugar to allow the flavors to come thru.  Sugar is the salt of popsickles!

When they’re done, I take them out of the molds, wrap them in wax paper, and use a little sticky label to wrap them and note the flavor of popsickle.

Sure, I could have put some lemon slices or mint leaves into the popsickles to make them look all fancy---but who needs that stuff?

One of these days, when the Wicked Witch of the West at the Health Food store is melting, maybe I’ll bring her one of these.

Because there’s nothing like a lemonade popsickle on a hot day to remind you that, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”