Lemon honey dependence
If I channeled Eeyore, I’d bemoan how miserable life is when one has a sore throat and relentless cough. I imagine that would not be an enjoyable read, and even less enjoyable to write.
Better to channel Pollyanna, and talk about the much more interesting silver lining I’ve discovered, to be enjoyed while treating the condition: the beautiful combination of quality honey, fresh lemon juice, and hot water.
Not a new concept, I grant you. But the key is in the quality of the ingredients. The lemons, obviously, have to be real life lemons — not bottled lemon juice from your supermarket shelf. And using budget brand honey doesn’t make for a fabulous beverage, I believe. One that does the job, perhaps, if all you’re after is treatment for a sore throat. But if I’m going to be inflicted with the pain of this inconvenience, I’m going to take pleasures wherever I may find them. So use quality honey — as close to raw as you can get, without actually putting a spoon of waxy honeycomb in your cup.
Actually, honeycomb could possibly taste good in there, though I haven’t tried it — but I imagine it would put wax floaties your your cup. And although honeycomb wax is perfectly edible, and enjoyable on toast or even by itself, I find floaties in drinks off-putting. I don’t even like chunks in my soup.
My renewed enthusiasm for the flavours of lemon and honey — separately or combined — saw me scouring the internet for local sources of honeycomb. It’s been so long since I’ve had raw honey, and I remember absolutely loving it. It turns out, there is none local. Not that Google knows about, anyway. (And if Google doesn’t know about it, how would I?) So disappointing! There’s a local honey factory that sells everything from different flavoured honeys, to bee product skin treatments and health tablets…but not raw honey.
The lack of accessible honeycomb saddens me, but I’m glad for the pleasure I may have from my drinks. I’m inspired to make another one…with honey on toast, as a side.
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