Sweet tea. How can I describe it other than as “the nectar of the gods.” Growing up in Maryland, there was no sweet tea in restaurants because Maryland is generally the worst (see “why I had to send the MVA a fax to get an absentee license renewal form” A FAX!) I get off on a lot of tangents on this blog. I hope you don’t mind too much. Especially since the tangents are surrounded by many mistakes and misuses of parenthesis,ellipses, and other tools of the English language upon which my grasp is “iffy.”
Let’s just scratch that whole intro and move onto an anecdote.
When Nick and I were leaving California for Mississippi, we stopped in a Cracker Barrel in Meridian. Meridian, Mississippi. The only worse place to be stationed in the Navy than where I lived. Fine! If you understand Geography then you’ll know we passed through Meridian on our way up to Maryland after we stopped in Guff-port. I’m nothing if not thorough. Tangent again. I’m the worst.
At this Cracker Barrel the waitress sidles up to ask us what we would like to drink. “Do you have sweetened ice tea here?” I ask, in my utter naivete. (They don’t have sweet tea in California either, they have pretentious teas like “green” and “chamomile” and “chai”) Once the waitress leaves, after confirming that “DUH! Of course we do you yankee doodle!” Nick looks super embarrassed. He’s “in the know” as it were, because he was stationed in Pascagoula. Slowly as I began to assimilate into Gulf Coast culture (R. Swizzle, are the king cakes out yet?) I realized that people don’t call it “ice tea” they call it “sweet tea.” Which is a way better name.
Most of them don’t even use Lipton, they use Luzianne, and a lot of sugar. After I left, I decided to make my own. My mother makes her own and we drank it a lot growing up. There was always some in the refrigerator. Hers is so good. And so is R. Swizzle’s. And so is Chick Fil A’s. And BBQ restaurants. Tea is like my wine. Or crack. I drink a lot of tea.
In summation. Sweet tea.