Photograph by Matt Duckor
Growing up, I remember my mom sitting at the breakfast table each morning, serrated, bendable knife in hand, going to town on half a grapefruit. But before she ate it, she'd always sprinkle some sugar on top. Now, I'm not going to pretend to know anything about agricultural science, but I'm pretty sure that the grapefruit my mom swore by were a lot more tart--bitter, if you will--than the sweet, juicy ones we get these days. And by "these days," I especially mean this time of year, when grapefruit are at their best.
As a responsible parent, I'd like to say that I now start every day with a grapefruit, but the truth of the matter is that I end most days with one. I grab a ruby red or nice peachy-pink-hued one from the fridge, lop off a big wedge, and squeeze it by hand into a tumbler of ice, which I then top with vodka, extra-crisp club soda, and a squeeze of lemon. If there's a more refreshing, bracing cocktail, I haven't tasted it--or made it.
And that's the thing about my grapefruit fizz--it's too easy not to make. If you can run to your closest supermarket for a carton of concentrated grapefruit juice, you can run to it for a few real grapefruit. The difference between the two is tremendous--like pleather versus leather, like a decent cocktail versus a phenomenal cocktail. --Adam Rapoport
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