Simple Syrup

I may be in danger of becoming the crazy herb lady.  Not, perhaps, a very good one, such as with remedies to cure what all ails you.  But I think I might have that bubbling herbal brew down straight.  Because dear friends, I have learned the beauty of the Simple Syrup.  Yes, it deserves those capital letters.

 

My sweet mother-in-law sent me an herb-lovers cookbook. Really thoughtful.  It is compiled by the good ladies of Waco, Texas. (And you thought only David Koresh lived in Waco. Not true. The town just attracts David Koreshes.) In addition to recipes, my herb-lovers cookbook provides tips on how to store your summer herbs long after the sun and heat are gone, and all the happy little herbs have gone to meet their maker.

First up, the good book says, put 'em in vodka. All right! Can do. Got myself a nice .750 liter of Tito's Handmade (from right here in Austin, Texas -- and feeling quite virtuous for buying local, thank you very much), made myself a highball, and sat right down to work.  A slightly woozy hour later, Bingo! A quart of schnockered basil, ready to go into any Italian meal this winter. (Too bad those Branch Davidians didn't get ahold of this cookbook; they mighta eased up a bit on the weapon-hoarding.) I also put up a couple of jars in olive oil.

Next up, Simple Syrup.  Easy as pie to make (easier, actually), it's equal parts sugar and water, brought to a boil, and then a cup or so of fresh herbs dropped in to soak overnight.  The first batch I made was mint, grated lemon peel and ginger.  We sweetened our iced tea with it -- excellent.  Then, after all the tea was gone, we mixed a little of the Simple Syrup with sparkling mineral soda.

Oh my!

Do you remember the first time you had chocolate? Neither do I. But I've always suspected there was that first moment when I thought (more or less), WTF? I didn't know this existed in the world! And foreverafter, the world was a world that had chocolate in it. Such a gift. Really, it changed everything.

On the other hand, I do remember the first time I gave my baby girl mushed green beans. She had been living blissfully on breastmilk, then rice cereal, then rice cereal and strained peaches, then rice cereal and strained peaches and sometimes mashed bananas, pears and cherries. One new sweet fruit a week for my Sweetie.

Then it was time to explore the vegetables.  Have you ever tried baby food vegetables? Maybe they've changed, but back in the Gerber days, it was pretty bitter tasting stuff.  Still, like a good mom, I faked it. 

I dipped the little spoon into the gently warmed green goo, turned into the universal jet propelled plane weighted down with a tiny biteful of goodness and sing-songily cooed, Here come the greenbeans for Mommy's little Sweetums!

And like the sweet-fed trusting baby she was, she opened her two-tooth mouth wide as an open hangar and in went the plane for a landing.

You have never seen such disgust in your life.  The hangar went into a total rejection sputter, spraying green bean goo as far as her little spit could carry. She has never trusted me since.

So there you have it. A new food can change your life. Such is our Simple Syrup story today. Luckily it is of the favorable change variety. Since you make it with equal parts sugar and water, and all.  (Though I admit, it could become a very bad habit.)

Moreover, the Simple Syrup has brought another revelation. Suddenly I understand sodas. You know, like how the forefathers and mothers made ginger ale and root beer. (For some reason, I thought you had to have a cellar and a wooden barrel.) Obviously, I've never given it much thought, but it seemed soda today was only achievable in a big factory like the Coca-cola plant my mistrustful daughter and I visited in Atlanta. (And she thought I had us lost the entire time. See what I mean?)

Just think of how the world has changed in a hundred years.  I am nearly a half-century old, and I am finally understanding that the mysteries of life, like soda can be made at home. Simply. Now isn't it perplexing, why the world should work like this: fooling us into thinking it's so complex and everything's out of reach except through the purchase of what other people make in complicated practices hidden away in factories, packaged up and sold to us out of convenience, which we need because we're too busy earning money to have time to make it the Simple way. Plus we don't know how, so we have to earn money to be able to buy it.

It was a riddle I was determined to solve. So I tried to make lavender soap. Let's just say there are a few items I may still need to purchase.

(At least the clean-up was easy. It's soap! Sorta.)