We just got back from Spain, where my folks and their friends were introduced to Sangria. My mom had weaseled the recipe out of a particularly handsome 'señor', and when plans were made for everyone to get together to watch the holiday slides, Mom announced that she was going to make sangria.
First she expected six people, then ten, then eighteen. She quickly realized that a regular sangria carafe wouldn’t be enough, she needed something bigger, much bigger … like a bucket.
In a clean bucket Mom deposited wedges of orange, lemon and peach, sprinkled them liberally with sugar, and added generous amounts of Cointreau, Grand Marnier, whiskey, a few other liquors I can’t remember and a couple of bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon. She let the mixture rest for a couple of hours and right before serving she added mineral water.
We kids also wanted to taste the sangria, which received quite a few compliments, but the adults were firm that this kind of drink was not for kids.
“Can we at least have the fruit?” my brother asked.
Sure, Mom saw nothing wrong with the children (aged between 10 - 17) fishing out the orange, lemon and peach wedges and eating them.
It didn’t take long or one after another slid off his or her chair under the table.
When Mom noticed that most of the kids had disappeared and heard snoring noises come from under the table, she had a look and found all of as drunk as lords.
Mom didn’t understand. She was sure we hadn’t touched the sangria and were only served Coke or lemonade.
“What happened to the fruit?” Paula asked, peering in the bucket.
“I let the kids eat it,” Mom said.
Paula burst out laughing. “Oh Rosa,” she said. “No wonder they’re drunk.”
When Mom still didn’t get it, Paula explained that the fruit had absorbed the alcohol.
“Now what are we going to do,” Lilian asked. “They can’t walk and their too heave too carry.”
“Just leave them there,” Paula suggested. “They seem comfortable.”
And that’s just what they did. They left us kids under to table to sleep it off.