Is there anything worse than getting sick right when you can’t afford to? Husband J came down with a cold earlier this week and has been rather miserable so I made him chicken noodle soup and a hot toddy. Well, I guess that’s it’s proper name – to me it’s just hot lemonade with whiskey.
When I was a kid cough syrup made me gag (you want to torture me? show me a bottle of Robitussin) so when I was sick, which wasn’t often, I got hot lemonade with a splash of whiskey. As a college-age kid I went to a Christian college with a strict no-alcohol policy. Well, one weekend I was really sick, and was due to visit my grandparents who lived just outside of town. I called to let them know I needed to cancel on our weekend and they understood. An hour later there’s a knock on my dorm-room door and there stands my grandmother holding a thermos with a wink. She was freakin’ adorable in her cardigan and her blue keds holding said-illicit hot lemonade. When I opened it you could smell the whiskey down the hall. My resident advisor just smiled and said, “Medicinal” in a sing-song voice. Probably for the best because seriously, you wouldn’t have wanted to cross my grandma.
Everyone has their own version: whiskey, rum, brandy, tea, lemon, ginger ale, sugar, spice (clove or cinnamon).
Mine happens to be what I have on hand. We’re out of honey (I hate it so don’t use it much and tend to sub blackstrap molasses for it in recipes). We’re also, try not to faint from shock, out of bourbon. So I made it with lemon juice, hot water, Bulleit Rye Whiskey and sugar. I really should have added some clove for its analgesic properties, but I can do that next time.
I might have gone a little heavy on the rye whiskey, judging from how much happier J seemed post-drink.