Grape ice saved summer

Another bead of sweat trailed down my spine. The white noise of the useless, rotating fan whirred in the background, pushing hot air from one side of the room to the other like an endless game of tennis. Spoiler–nobody won.

No air conditioning equaled no relief on this humid, sweltering July afternoon.

I was torn between continuing to keep utterly still in the hopes of fending off a heat stroke or ambling out to my little kitchen in search of something cold to eat or drink. Maybe I'd just stand in front of my open freezer door and cry a little about the unfairness of it all.

Why was I born and raised in an area with so much heat and humidity? And why did I stay? I had curly hair that frizzed out and a healthy hatred for being hot. I was also an eternal bug buffet. Summer was not my season.

As I sat there like a hot sack of lazy, the promise of a cold refreshment finally lured me out of my heat-induced funk. I dragged myself oh so slowly to the fridge.

A lonely jug held the last dregs of some green tea my roommate had made earlier in the week. Some wilted veggies stared at me from the bottom shelf. Working at a restaurant certainly had its perks, but stocking my fridge wasn't one of them.

I blinked at the bareness of my freezer as well. I really needed to go shopping.

There was blessedly a small tray of ice cubes left that I cracked and plunked into my even smaller glass of iced tea. That would have to do. Although, I wished I had some popsicles or ice cream...or grape ice!

Nothing said 'summer' to me like my grandma's grape ice.

I groaned just thinking about having that icy goodness to cool me down. Which reminded me that I needed to call my grandma and check on her with this crazy heat.

My grandparents never had air conditioning. The houses they grew up in didn't have it, and the home they built and lived in didn't have it either. The only cooling options they had were open windows and box fans or sitting in the basement.

I spent many hot, summer days in their house growing up. Trying to stay cool was a daily, full-time battle. Drapes were drawn and fans ran incessantly. They rarely used their oven to keep the heat down inside. Meals were cold or from the crock pot.

And nights almost always included watching a show on TV with a bowl of ice cream, or even better, grape ice.

Before retirement, my grandma and grandpa owned a small news agency store that sold a little bit of this and that. The only thing that had really interested me was the ice cream counter, because I got it for free. Mint chocolate chip and orange sherbet were my favorites.

After they sold the store, my grandma still made sure to have ice cream on hand at home. Don't get me wrong, I loved that cold, creamy goodness, but what I craved was her grape ice. She didn't make it during the winter, so I shamelessly begged all during the warm months for her to make me some.

She also made orange ice and every once in awhile, a chocolate version, but grape was always the best.

I don't remember her exact method for creating this summer masterpiece, but the main ingredient was juice that somehow ended up mixed or boiled or something and put into trays to freeze. She used these old, metal ice cub trays with the separators removed and knife marks on the bottom.

Once the mixture was frozen, she cut it up in blocks and placed the big hunks in a bowl with a small spoon.

The best part of it all? The bowl got really cold from the iciness and so did the spoon. Just holding those in my hands helped take the edge off the hot, stickiness that lingered into the evening hours.

The big chunks my grandma served kept the flavored yumminess from melting right away, extending the joy of the sweet, cold treat. I used to take my spoon and shave the smallest pieces off, savoring each and every bite.

Some of the thawed juice always pooled at the bottom of the bowl, delivering a second dose of happy once the ice was gone.

My lips and mouth were always numb by the end.

It was pure bliss.

And although grape ice wasn't able to solve all my problems–my hair still got frizzy and I had a complete lack of motivation thanks to breathing water straight from the air–it offered a much needed reprieve from the heat and ensured time well spent with my family.

Update as of 6.29.22:

After the publication of this story, my family helped me find the recipe!

Here's a picture of one of my son's helping me make the first batch. It makes my heart so happy that another generation will get to enjoy one of my favorite summer treats. Love and miss you grandma