Better than A&W

The children in our family had supreme motivation to pick up litter along the side of North Holmes Avenue - we were on a quest, a search for beer bottles that had been thrown out by passing motorists.

Vintage beer bottle

No, we were not going to recycle them, or turn them in for a nickle each at the store. They were a valued treasure which tantalized the imagination with anticipation of the ultimate summer treat - perfectly aged and chilled homemade root beer. 

There is an easy method for making your own root beer involving dry ice; don't even go there. That instant recipe is for barbeques in the park, or ward parties and is a distant second to the real deal, a beverage requiring a patient wait as it ages to a tickling fizz.

As you can see, it was very important to be prepared and have bottles on hand for the summer ritual of making our own root beer, so the roadside along North Holmes was kept clear of beer bottles by the McCracken children.

After the bottles were scoured, steamed and sterilized, we were ready for the tradition. I'm sure there was a sufficient supply of begging, pleading, nagging Mom and promises for good behavior that served as prerequisites to the annual event.

When the bottles were finally all filled, they needed to be securely capped and stored. This was part of the fun. All of us wanted a turn to line up the bottles perfectly in the bottle capping machine and clamp the lids in place, a challenging task for little hands.

And then, the waiting began. I've read that the aging is three to four days at room temperature, not cold, not hot. Memory makes it seem like much, much, much longer. The wait was absolutely agonizingly interminable, which of course served to enhance the flavor.

After "curing" at room temperature the bottles were chilled in the chest freezer. It is surprising that they ever reached the slushy stage with the number of times the freezer door was opened to check on them.

At long last, the anticipation was over. Oh, the joy! Pure delight! We wanted the world to know that we were the luckiest kids on earth, so, much to Mom and Dad's chagrin, we perched on the freshly painted rail fence which lined the front yard along busy North Holmes Avenue and sipped from our beer bottles for all passers-by to see. 
 
Those were the days!