So far, 2013 has been the year of the head cold, the year of the stomach bug that took us down one by one (whoa), the year of the 2002 Honda Accord in sudden need of a new transmission, and the year of the grapefruit. You’ll understand if we focus on the grapefruit today.
I never get excited for winter citrus the way I do for summer berries or fall plums, which is odd, because once the oranges, and grapefruits, and lemons are here, I can’t get enough. When I was a little girl, my great-grandmother Edith would send us HoneyBells from Florida each year. Did you know they’re part grapefruit? And the other part tangerine. They’d come in a box with faux warnings on the outside about the extreme juiciness within, and tie-on plastic bibs, like lobster bibs, for emphasis. There were many more HoneyBells among the grassy plastic padding than there were bibs. I assumed you were supposed to wipe down your bib between uses and wear it again, so I did. We ate them with ceremony on a newsprint-covered hardwood floor, bibs tied beneath our chins, one a day after school until they were gone.
Grapefruits were for cold weekend mornings, for halving and sectioning and topping with honey or heaped teaspoons of sugar, and eating on fold-up tables in front of the TV. I’d scrape and squeeze the skins clean, move to the floor by the heat vent, pull my knees up under my nightgown and, lips still burning from the pith, watch the rest of the show from there. I ate grapefruit just like that – minus the TV and nightgown, eventually – until late 2006, when my mother-in-law Sarah taught me how to supreme. I spent countless hours that winter sliding a sharp knife between membranes and plump, pink vesicles, transferring thrillingly intact slices to plates of arugula and avocado. Eli would joke sometimes that I didn't even like that salad, but made it just for the chance to supreme.
Well. That was a lot to go on about citrus when all I’m offering today is juice of. But when I started thinking about grapefruit, this is what came out. Bear with me, if you would; there’s vodka on the way.
The grapefruit juice currently in my fridge is from a guy called Uncle Matt. And by “a guy,” I mean a company, I guess. The point is that this Uncle Matt, whoever (whatever) he is, makes a very nice juice. We’re only 25 days into the new year, and I’m already on my third jug which – considering that I am the only grapefruit juice drinker in my household and that for a few fevered days I consumed nothing but Gatorade and the entire first season of Downton Abbey – is healthy evidence that this juice and I are ON. The first jug arrived in the final hours of 2012 with my friend, Julia. She’d been mixing up Greyhounds – vodka, grapefruit juice, and lime – and came equipped on New Year’s Eve to spread the good word. I didn't have one that night, or for many nights, sticking instead to a tamer grapefruit juice and soda while my head cleared and stomach quieted. That's what I'm drinking right now, in fact, a – what shall we call it? A "Virgin Greyhound?" A “Grapefruit Fizz?” A “Fizzy Pup?” I knew I was in trouble when the words “Dog Soda” flashed through my brain. In any case, I’m sold.
On the alcoholic version now, too. The Greyhound is clean, simple, sleek, not too sweet, all things that make me suck it down more quickly than I should. I've mentioned before what a lightweight I am, but honestly, I barely even deserve that title, when a single swallow of champagne hits me right between the eyes and two sips of wine are enough. And yet. The Greyhound goes down easy. He’s a quiet, gentle pup. I drank nearly a whole one earlier this week after Mia went to sleep and still made it from sofa to bed on my own. Then last night I emptied my glass! January's looking up. And not a moment too soon.
Eli's Greyhound
Don't let me stop you from squeezing and straining your own grapefruit juice for this drink. Just know that best-quality store-bought 100% juice is also very good here. Replace the vodka with soda for a virgin option.
1 ounce vodka (We're into Cîroc right now.)
2½ ounces grapefruit juice
Wedge of lime
Fill a glass almost to the top with ice cubes. I think a Collins glass is the traditional one for this drink, but we don't have any, so we use a rock glass. Add the vodka (or soda), then the grapefruit juice, squeeze in the lime, and stir well.
Makes one drink.