Frozen Stiff Again: Hooked On Classics Edition
The Mix Revisits Frozen Cocktails and Shares a Recipe: The South Jersey Fitzgerald
This past weekend I got into a discussion with someone at a picnic about my behavior as a teenager. Frankly, it frightened her. (I didn’t realize she had a young child. Oops.) Randomly discussing our teen years, I described my summer weekdays. They began with my sisters and I waving goodbye to my parents on a Sunday night as they drove off to go to work for the week, leaving us alone at the family house in the seaside town of Harvey Cedars, New Jersey, until the following Friday night.
My parents would leave us $50 for provisions (actually a lot of money at that time). After watching them drive off, we headed to Neptune’s Market to buy a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. The rest of the money would be spent on cases of beer, a handle of vodka and containers of Minute Maid frozen lemonade concentrate.
We had many parties while my parents were gone. As my husband would say, “You were bad.” Though I like to think we were actually just sort of 1970s bad. But that is neither here nor there.