In those scant seconds, that stupid old pot boiled over like a witches’ cauldron, spitting sugar-water-ginger-lime syrup over my smooth-top range. All messed up with no place to go, a molten river of syrup inched over the stove top and on to the kitchen floor as sticky clouds of steam drifted toward the ceiling to drip down the walls and counter tops.
|Juicing the limes ...|
|Slicing the ginger ...|
|Stirring the sugar syrup ... soooooo professional, n'est-ce pas?|
|OUTED! Testing Lime and Ginger Drink Concentrate |
straight from the stove top. It later hardened and burned black as tar.
|Eight huge cups remained after half the concentrate splashed |
onto the floor, the cupboards, the counters, the stove ...
With the kitchen in ruins, we had no choice but to go out for pizza and I felt guilty and paid for it but in my black heart fantasized sticking Maddy with the $10 tab because the pizza was stale and not fully heated through and Ron said “What do you expect for 10 bucks?” and in my still-black heart I thought