Well. I’ve been sitting here pondering what to call this recipe. Picture this: my husband and I are both on the couch. I’ve got the laptop, well, in my lap as it should be, and he is reading Lord knows what on his phone. He looks at me: what are you stuck on? Me: I’m trying to figure out what I should call those drinks. Nick: a summer slurpee?
So, theres a couple of reasons I didn’t go for his suggestion. First off, we certainly don’t run a 7-11 out of my kitchen, as much as I love the thought of that. Second, its not 1987. I didn’t just get back from riding my bike to the gas station up the road to spend all of my hard earned allowance on a cherry icey and Big League Chew. This recipe must never be called a Slurpee of any sort. Lets go ahead and give him an A for effort, but clearly I’m on my own with this one.