No such thing as a right way, you say? Then what the hell have Tom and I been fighting for?
So we picked up a gallon of cider yesterday—six bucks, which is totally worth it (think about how many apples it takes to squish out a gallon of juice) but is still a lot of money for something that isn’t all that good for you. Anyway, after putting away the groceries, Tom immediately poured himself a glass and thrust it in front of my face. Way to waste it, sport.
Cold apple cider may as well be apple juice, say I. It’s sugary and you swig it back like water. Where’s the love?
But warmed up, with a smidge of “butter” and some extra fall-riffic spices, now that’s how you drink apple cider. You hold the mug with two hands and breathe in the spicy steam before each velvety sip. You close your eyes and see swirling leaf patterns in orange, rust, yellow, and yellow-splotchy green. You curl up a little closer to whomever is sharing the blanket with you and you remember why you love fall.
What say you?