How to make the best lemonade ever

Last Updated on August 5, 2024 by Michelle

Want in on my secret? Wanna know how I make the best fresh-squeezed lemonade ever?

Sure, delicious, cool, tart-but-sweet, fresh-squeezed lemonade won’t solve all the world’s problems. But oh my gosh it definitely turns a hard morning into a wonderful afternoon.

Imagine a 20-degree, 2-feet-of-snow-on-the-ground, New England morning. A morning in March that the calendar reports as the first day of spring. But your barn chores– including frozen duck water that you need to break and refill. . . in the freezing wind–tell you otherwise.

This Maple Lemonade Warms up Any Day

Things improved exponentially when I made the best lemonade I’ve ever tasted. But the upturn started when my daughter opened the box, labeled with a California return address.

Thankfully, even though is doesn’t feel like spring around here, my family room is pretty toasty today. Even in our 200-plus-year-old farmhouse with horrible drafts, our hard-working wood stove helps us bear even a 20-degree first day of spring. But the smell of those lemons. Oh my goodness. I kid you not, when my daughter opened that box of lemons, the smell of warm California sunshine filled our little room.

Now we’re talking spring. Now we’re smelling spring. Now we have true sustainable hope that indeed… one day… spring will return to our little neck of the New England woods.

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If you’d like to “meet” my quirky, problematic farmhouse, glance at any one of these many posts I’ve written about this old red cape that sits in the bend of the river on a rocky New England hill.

If you’d like a little insight into another secret… the secret of how I can be content in any season (even the cold, difficult ones)… you’ll like this post about finding joy when life is hard.

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This is Truly the Best Lemonade Ever

Spring actually, literally, entered our home when we took big gulps of happiness, sunshine, and all-natural goodness with glasses of truly the best lemonade ever. And you don’t have to have California imported to your own living room to make this amazing goodness. I mean, you can…

But you can also grow your own. I love my dwarf Meyer Lemon tree from Nature Hills, the world’s largest online nursery. It’s just too immature to give me enough lemons. Yet…

Or, you don’t even have to use fresh lemons… Dare I say it? You can even use reconstituted lemon juice from your fridge if you’re desperate. I promise you, it will still be delicious. If you know my secret that is… My secret for the best lemonade I’ve ever made…

DISCLOSURE: This post contains affiliate links.

Want in on My Secret?

I substituted maple syrup for sugar. The result is a beautiful blend of true, all-natural, deeply-sweet maple and fresh, tart, pulp-filled lemon. Please scroll to the end and comment if you try this deliciousness. Let me know if you agree that this is the best lemonade EVER.

Wanna Know How to Substitute Maple Syrup for Sugar?

Would you like to know more about substituting maple syrup for sugar in your kitchen? Be sure to download the free printable right here. And you’ll love Sweet Maple; read more about my new book right here.

Now I realize most people don’t have their own sugarbush and make their own syrup and finding a good reliable place to purchase all-natural syrup can be difficult–if not impossible–in some parts of the world. But I can help you there, or I should say I know a wonderful, local family who can help you.

If I didn’t have my own sugarbush, this is where I would be buying my syrup. This local, family-run sugar shack makes some amazing all-natural, wood-fired syrup, right here in New Hampshire. As if the sheer deliciousness wasn’t enough, the owners are some of the nicest guys I know. Just click that beautiful syrup picture right here for more info.–>

Meanwhile, I’ll keep loving my own little lemon tree and hoping that some day I can pick a few more fresh lemons here in my own little neck of the woods.

My tree perches below my Dad’s peace plant, in his apple picking basket, beside the chair that, long ago, graced his childhood kitchen. My beloved rocker sat in a corner of dad’s granddad’s old farmhouse, which itself sat in the little smidgen of Maryland that is surrounded by the West Virginia panhandle. That rocking chair, fashioned by hand from bendable willow branches, by traveling gypsies who passed through that smidgen of Maryland, is the very same one that he was sent to when he had to sit quietly because of misbehaving. Which from what I hear, little Tommy had to do rather frequently, back in the 1930s.

My peace plaque, under my Daddy’s peace plant, reminds me that there is only one source for my peace, and it rests totally outside of circumstances.

But more about that in upcoming posts… Meanwhile, go here or to this post if you’d like to meet my tall, dark, southern-boy daddy who got me started in my life-long passion for growing my own food.

And leave a comment after you try this lemonade! Let me know what you think!

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