Saturday, September 26, 2009

The South and Sweet Tea Mojitos

It's raining again, perfect just-loud-and-hard-enough, nap-inducing rain. I can't stop sleepin' today.

The Indigo Girls were fabulous last night at the Bijou, as always. After all these years, I still love their meaningful lyrics and guitar-playin' but somehow I've never noticed, or at least paid much attention to, what beautiful voices they have, each so different from the other but so well suited together. Our seats were on the second row, center--the closest I've ever been to the stage in a concert. It's funny to see what stage lights do to the spray of--I'll just say it, spit--when a singer sings. Kind of funny.

One head away.

There was a very mature, very reserved couple seated front-row center in front of us. My friend Sara and I had to wonder if possibly they owned or were interested in buying the theatre and there on a site visit--because they were definitely unique in the crowd--which is fine, I love seeing the diversity an Indigo Girls concert draws--but they also didn't seem to be enjoying themselves at all. I love people watching and speculating about their stories.

They didn't sing my favorite IG song (top five at least), Southland in the Springtime. Even though it's fall in the south now, this song warms me like spring sunshine. Some lyrics:

...I'm in the back seat sleepy from the travel,
Played our hearts out all night long in New Orleans.
I'm dirty from the diesel fumes, drinking coffee black,
When the first breath of Texas comes in clean...

And there's something 'bout the Southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone, it won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the Southland in the springtime

In Georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody's mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land.
There'll be cider up near Helen off the roadside,
And boiled peanuts in a bag to warm your fingers,
And the smoke from the chimneys meets its maker in the sky
With a song that winter wrote whose melody lingers...

Lovely. Every time I meet a Yankee that I like, I think of "When God made me born a Yankee, he was teasin'."

Before the show, we had a great dinner downstairs at the Bistro at the Bijou. I can't believe I've lived here almost entirely since sixth grade and have never been there. It was delicious--I dreamt about the sauteed green beans--but the best part was our discovery of the Sweet Tea Mojito, which I'm affectionately renaming Southern Perfection.

Oh, sweet tea mojito, where have you been all my life? I didn't ask for the recipe, but I think I gleaned it well enough from the menu. It's simple and divine. I can't wait to have friends over just to serve these.

Sweet Tea Mojito, aka Southern Perfection

sweet tea (preferably Mama's)
Bacardi Limon
fresh mint
lemon wedges
crushed ice

Muddle the mint in the glass. 
Squeeze and drop in a wedge of lemon. 
Add crushed ice and Bacardi Limon rum to suit your fancy. 
Top with sweet tea. 
Die and go to heaven. 

Seems to me it belongs in a julep cup, but a Mason jar could be charming as well, in the right environment. Ours were served in standard pint glasses and that worked just fine, too.

A quick Google will give you a variety of other similar recipes, plus lots of info about sweet tea vodka. That's also new to me and will have to be investigated. Stay tuned.

No comments:

Post a Comment