Gin Thyme Lemonade

To understand my feelings about alcohol, I need to tell you a story.
One 4th of July when I was in college, I went to an Independence Day party thrown by a bunch of frat guy friends. There were hamburgers, there were hot dogs, there were chicken wings and other barbecue-ish food items. The only things missing were beer and dessert.
In the middle of the party, one of the guys made an announcement.
“They’re bringing the cake!” he said.
“The cake?!” I squealed. “Yes! All right! Awesome! That is great to hear!”
“No,” (he rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe he didn’t, but he probably did inwardly.) “the keg,” he corrected.
A cheer went up in the room. I felt crestfallen.
Chris finds this story oh-so-amusing, and to this day, makes fun of me for it. But you know what? I’m not ashamed to admit it: I’d choose cake over liquor any day. I’m just that kind of woman. (What kind of woman, you ask? The kind that dreams about petting dogs, no joke. Chris thinks I’m repressing something.)

That being said, you will notice that today’s post features a very awesome alcoholic beverage. With the amazing weather we’ve been having—and the fact that Chris and I celebrated our move-to-New-York anniversary recently (thanks for the comments, guys!)—it seemed that kind of day. The kick-off-your-shoes-and-expose-your-very-pale-feet kind of day.
And anyway, I’ve evolved. I actually enjoy alcohol now. Although I have to admit, I’m a girly drink type of person. I’ll have none of that neat-scotch, thanks, but give me something fruity, ideally something that masks much of the taste of the alcohol, and I am down. I mean, let’s face it, I’m presenting you spiked lemonade. It doesn’t get more gentle than that. But it’s good stuff, and the subtle hint of thyme makes it doubly lovely. And even though it’s kind of early in the season for lemonade, I can definitely see it making its debut at your first barbecue of the year. It’ll be a smash hit, I promise, just don’t serve it to the kiddies (or alternatively, don’t add the gin).
Another confession: I made this lemonade with Meyer lemons, so I suppose it’s really a gin thyme Meyer lemonade. I had a bunch lying around that were starting to shrivel, so I decided to juice them. (I’ve also been on a grapefruit juicing spree lately—Greyhounds!) I encourage you to try this drink with Meyer lemon juice sometime. Think extra floral notes!
Anyway, I’m starting to feel really red around my ears (the unfortunate side effect of being Asian I’m afraid), so I’m going to stop now and go finish my drink. Cheers, and have a great weekend everybody.


GIN THYME LEMONADE
Adapted from Martha Stewart
Serves 4 (makes about 8 cups)
Feel free to omit the alcohol.
Ingredients:
1-1/3 to 1-1/2 cups sugar (according to your sweetness preference)
5 cups cold water
1 small bunch of thyme (10 to 15 sprigs or so)
2 cups lemon juice
1 cup gin
Directions:
In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar, 1 cup of water, and thyme to a boil, and stir until the sugar melts completely. Turn off the stove and add the remaining 4 cups of water, lemon juice, and gin. Stir, then refrigerate. Serve cold, preferably with ice.
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Louisiana Barbecue Shrimp, Or the Dual Senses of Splurging

When I was in college and hence a student on a budget, there were two restaurants that I reserved for special occasions. The first was a restaurant provençal, a French-style brunch spot that made the most perfect egg dishes. I’d go with friends and devise ways to eat everything on the menu. Real strategists we were. The second spot was an upscale-ish Louisiana-style restaurant. Angeline’s. What a heartbreaker.
Eating at Angeline’s was always a splurge, and because we were going all in with cash expenditure (remember, poor college student at the time), we also went all in with consumption of the deep-fried, the buttery, and the if-I-ate-this-regularly-I’d-develop-heart-disease. You see, it was a splurge on every front.
To start, an order of hush puppies. Such homely little things, and yet, we’d spear one of those little suckers and liberally roll it around in the honey butter and it would just melt in the mouth. I also loved the fried chicken, mac and cheese, sweet tea, beignets, and banana fosters bread pudding (dessert is absolutely mandatory when splurging).


And so, a small spurge on shrimp the other day (for us at least since we rarely eat seafood) had me thinking Cajun food. I sought out a recipe, something a little different, that would bring back the taste of Angeline’s. And you know what? Louisiana barbecue shrimp is it. You get a skillet-ful of shrimp slathered in a tangy, flavorful sauce, messily eaten with some fresh bread. Golden! Even better, it calls for, what, 5 minutes on the stove? Tops? (New York summer, you win. I concede to your might.) I fist pump at discoveries like these.
What were/are your splurge restaurants when you were/are in college?

LOUISIANA BARBECUE SHRIMP
Recipe from Martha Stewart Living
Serves 4 (or 2 people who are exceptionally hungry. I’m not going to lie, we polished the whole thing off in one sitting)
Ingredients:
1 stick of butter (4 ounces), cut into small pieces
3 garlic cloves, minced (1 Tbsp)
1 Tbsp finely chopped fresh rosemary
1/3 cup fresh lemon juice (from 2 lemons), rinds reserved and sliced
1/4 cup Worcestershire sauce
1-1/2 tsp hot sauce (i.e. Tapatio or Tabasco)
1 pound shrimp, peeled but with heads and tails still attached
salt and pepper to taste
fresh baguette for sopping up the sauce
Directions:
Heat a 12-inch skillet over medium-high heat. Add butter, and cook until melted and foamy. Add garlic, rosemary, and lemon juice and rinds. Stir in Worcestershire and hot sauce, and bring to a simmer.
Season shrimp with salt and pepper and add to skillet. Cook until pink and firm to the touch. Season with pepper. Serve with baguette.
Note: I did not peel my shrimp, and I think I should’ve because a lot of the flavor ended up on the shell, which subsequently got peeled and tossed.
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