When Life Gives You Limes, Make Nimbu Pani

Nimbu pani is Hindi and literally translates to “lime water.”

Before La Croix was in vogue and certainly before Whiteclaw started trending, I had nimbu pani. My dad used to make this for me in the summer. I used to request it through the dirt and sweat of playing outside when outside was more inviting and less scary. Once I went off to college, I only had nimbu pani on the rare occasions that I was home. And then once I graduated and moved to North Carolina, the summers got even hotter, but I forgot all about our familial remedy. Recently, as I have been missing my family more – an emotional illusion of COVID-19 – it occurred to me that a piece of my family can always be found in…a lime.

In that way, nimbu pani has become a liquid connection to younger and more carefree summer days. And that is exactly how this drink is meant to be enjoyed – with the sweetness (or in this case, saltiness!) that is so unique to childhood. Or, at least, the time before adulthood – a time when I could ask my dad for nimbu pani, and he would happily oblige.

Ingredients:

- 1 tall glass

- 1 lime

- Iced water

- Salt

- Crushed black pepper

- 1 metal straw

Steps:

1. Select your favorite tall glass.

I have collected dishware over the course of my twenty-six years – a mug for Christmas, an opaque-and-capped cup from college spring weekend, a pint glass from Dublin. Each plays its own role in my daily grind of quarantine. When I study, I drink coffee from the mug that my sister got me; it reads, “FUTURE Dr. Juneja.” Every sip is a cheers to someday. But when I make nimbu pani, I often opt for the plain tall glass that is one of four in a set. They were the first glasses I bought for my first apartment. They are decidedly mine for a drink that decidedly belongs to me.

2. Cut lime to best squeeze out lime juice. Squeeze hard.

In every family, there is one person with strong lime-squeezing hands. In mine, it is my Daadi (my father’s mother). She is not a big woman – in fact, she’s quite petite like most of us, including me. But her hands are strong like her will. My sister has the same hands. She can squeeze the juice out of anything or the truth out of anyone. I guess that’s why she became a lawyer.

3. Add ice water to lime juice.

I always opt for more water than ice because I drink slowly. It’s the same reason I drink my whiskey neat. I don’t want to pay the price of dilution for my tendency to savor. But I guess it also depends on the day. When the heat is oppressive, a little extra ice can be liberating.

4. Season to taste with salt and crushed black pepper.

This is the part that tends to freak people out. I know: lemonade in America is sweet or, at the least, sour. But, I enjoy drinking without pucker. Do make sure to add salt and pepper with caution! Small sips to taste after each sprinkle is probably best – although, if you add too much salt or too much black pepper, just go ahead and add more iced water to make more drinks!

5. Stir with metal straw.

In our current climate crisis, I think metal straws are a must-have. On the one hand, the ability to reuse is one small contribution to saving the turtles as well as the world at large. In nimbu pani, the straw also adds an extra bit of coldness. The metal stays cool in the cold drink, so I can stay cool too in the hot weather. I must also say that the clink of metal to glass is so pleasing to hear. To me, clinks trigger moments of celebration or feelings of accomplishment. And on the hottest afternoon, I enjoy listening to the clink as I celebrate this weird and wonderful summer of 2020.

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So, on your next hot day, consider squeezing yourself some nimbu pani. It may not bridge you to the strong hands in your family or the memories of your childhood and maybe you’ll find the saltiness just too strange to bear, but the drink will sure as hell be refreshing!