Well, first of all, the butterbeer was delicious. We used this recipe and were mostly pleased. With a few important caveats: namely if you follow the recipe you will not be able to finish even a moderately sized mug of the brew before the sweetness overpowers.
I think the recipe calls for a quarter cup of syrup to each mug, but I’d start with something more along the lines of 2 tablespoons and adjust from there. I don’t remember the butterbeer at Universal tasting nearly this tooth-aching sweet, and I’m pretty sure Hogwarts would be a diabetes factory if it was.
My opinion anyway.
My dear friend Em came over for dinner and the butterbeer experience. Here she is looking all cute in Slytherin green.
I hadn’t been thinking ahead or I would have gone all themey with dinner and done a roast chicken feast or something along those lines. We tried really hard to come up with some connection between Harry Potter and soft tacos, but the best we could do was Sirius Black Bean Burritos, and I’m not sure that counts since they weren’t burritos and the black beans were actually in the rice. But it’s something, yes?
We decided yes.
It made us happy.
After dinner we watched some Harry Potter specials on TV, and then it was time for Em to dash home and us to get to the theater for our midnight showing. Which was really good, a great finish to the story.
Other than that, our long weekend has been extremely low key. I’ve been feeling dizzy and flu-ish, mostly propped up on the couch reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone because it never ceased to amaze (and unsettle) my friends that I could LOVE to read, deeply enjoy the Harry Potter movies, and NEVER have read a single one of the books.
So I’m reading them now. And it’s really fun.
I don’t tend to read a lot of kid lit, but I have to say it’s definitely a nice change of pace after the heavy novels I seem to keep picking up. It’s also encouraging to see that while Rowling is a sturdy, fun, consistent writer, the magic really is in her world. It would be too incredibly discouraging to think that a writer has to have every good quality in the book in order to sell well—though obviously only one writer in a billion is going to hit the jackpot like she did. Rowling is an ideas writer, and probably one of the best in the business, but her prose doesn’t bowl me over.
I find that oddly relieving.
Also oddly relieving: lying back down. Shall go finish The Sorcerer’s Stone now…