Since the weather, after a brief burst of glorious rain, has decided to be ridiculous again, I offer here some additional information on the grapefruit granita recipe I gave you last week. Obviously you are free to use your own method, but I’m giving you the steps I followed because this is truly a foolproof recipe, and I am just the fool to prove it. As with any recipe, please read the whole of the method carefully before you begin. Step One: Decide the world is too hot to support human habitation and you need some sort of low fat,* low cost, frozen drink to help you stay cool and beat the heat.
Granita is indicated. Since you have a grapefruit, make it a grapefruit granita. Step Two: Make syrup.
Put equal parts of sugar and water in a pan and turn on the hob. You are now making the world even hotter, but it will all be worth it in the end. Honest. Notice a bag of limes and another of lemons. Peel strips of rind from one of the limes and drop them in the syrup to infuse. Bask in the feeling of being A Real Chef.
Step Three (Very Important Step): Expunge all memory of the limes from your mind.
Likewise the lemons. Step Four: Juice the grapefruit. Step Five: Realise that this is not nearly enough juice to make a granita.
You have far less juice than syrup, and if you were to reduce the amount of syrup to match the juice you would end up with nothing but a chilly smear at the bottom of the glass. Step Six: Sulk. Step Seven: Turn off stove.
Decant syrup, remove strips of peel and throw them away without considering their significance or the fact that lemon-and-lime granita is actually really good. Sulk some more, dwelling lovingly on the total absence of any suitable ingredient with which to make granita. You pillock. Step Eight: Go out to run inescapable errands.
Take an umbrella to ward off the sun. Resist urge to respond to three separately witty individuals who feel the need to tell you it isn't raining. Decide to walk all the way to Small Supermarket (TM) and buy more grapefruit. Step Nine: Walk to Small Supermarket.
Weather stifling. Fail at staying cool and beating the heat. Supermarket does not have grapefruit. Fail at buying granita ingredients. Supermarket does have a bakery section. Fail at “low fat”. Walk home. Step Ten: Stare into space while your brain melts and dribbles out of your ears.
Mention woes to Beloved Husband. Husband needs to go out for a while. While out, Husband stops by Big Supermarket (also TM). Big Supermarket does not have grapefruit either. Wonder if there is a global grapefruit shortage. Wonder if you should have cherished that one grapefruit you had, instead of squeezing it and throwing the seeds away. Husband returns, minus grapefruit, plus doughnuts. Fail even more at “Low Fat."
Step Eleven: Go to bed and stare at the ceiling until you start hallucinating that you are gazing into a cool, blue ocean.
Or possibly that’s heat haze.
Step Twelve: Wake up, determined to make granita.
Embalm face and body with sunblock.
Put on lightest, most covering clothes.
Obtain wallet and handy sun-resistant umbrella. Head out in the direction of Moderate-Size Supermarket (also also TM). Step Thirteen: Attempt not to die of heat. Fortunately, the umbrella is actually very good at keeping the sun off. Offer thanks to whoever invented it. Make mental note to look this up when you get home.** Passenger in passing car wishes to point out that it isn’t raining. Passenger’s car has air-con going with the windows open but you weren’t going to throw stones. Also, car is stuck in traffic and open window would easily admit point of angrily thrust umbrella. Resist, sadly. You’re probably just in a bad temper because of the heat. Step Fourteen: Get to Moderate-Size Supermarket.
Moderate Size Supermarket has air-con. Rejoice! Moderate Size Supermarket also has a cafe selling frozen drinks that you wouldn’t have to make yourself. Resist some more. Moderate Size Supermarket even has a shiny, specialist doughnut cabinet. Resist even more. Most importantly, Moderate Size Supermarket has both Grapefruits and Grapefruit juice. The famine is ended! Do tiny, celebratory dance in the middle of the citrus section. Stop when you get funny looks. It was probably the bit with the umbrella that did it. Buy large bag of grapefruits and a carton of grapefruit juice just in case. Walk home. Succeed at “Low Fat” but fail some more at beating the heat and, honestly, by this point, fail at “Low Cost” too. Step Fifteen: Get home, noting that not only do you have grapefruits, but nobody pointed out the lack of rain on your journey home.
Things are clearly looking up.
Juice all the grapefruits, put in big tub with the syrup, go to put tub in freezer. Freezer is full. Step Sixteen: Freezer Jenga. Step Seventeen: Admit that no amount of frantic reshuffling is ever going to fit this tub into that drawer.
Close freezer and go looking for ancient, inherited ice cream maker. Ice cream maker is on top of tumble dryer, under a pile of bric-a-brac and inexplicable carrier bags. Step Eighteen: Wash ice cream maker.
Thoroughly. Step Nineteen: Make sure ice cream maker is really, really dry before use.
Plug in ice cream maker, note lack of self-electrocution, pour grapefruit mixture into vat and turn on.
Wait thirty minutes. Step Twenty: Decant more grapefruit granita than any household should possibly be able to drink.
Drink it all and head back to kitchen to wash up glasses and straws.
Observe large bag of lemons and likewise one of limes.
Repent.
*Let’s not mention the calories **Several people, as it turns out, at different times and in different parts of the world.
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