What? I’m going to write about Kool-Aid?
Recently, I saw an old friend that I’ve been out of touch with. She mentioned that she sometimes takes walks in my neighborhood, so I suggested that she should come by.
“Just knock on your door?” she asked. Sure, I said, and a memory came to me.
“Like people used to do,” I said. I thought about summer during my childhood. We would be sitting in the living room which was cooler than outdoors. It was hot in St. Louis where we lived: very hot. My mother would look out the window, and see a car parking in front of our house.
“The so-and-sos just got here,” she would say. “Go make a pitcher of Kool-Aid.”
In the kitchen, I would get out our big pitcher, and put in one can of frozen lemonade, a package of Kool-Aid (usually red), and the recommended amount of sugar on the Kool-Aid instructions, along with water and ice cubes, also as recommended on the package instructions. Sometimes a squeeze of actual lemon juice went in as well. My mother always made sure there were cookies on hand, to serve with it.
I'm sharing this odd drink memory with Elizabeth's weekly blog party. This post © 2021 by mae sander for mae food dot blog spot dot com.
NOTE: My Kool-Aid memories have nothing to do with the now-cliched expression "Drinking the Kool-Aid" -- my childhood experiences were many years earlier than the disaster that inspired that expression.
