‘Twas the weeks past the Fourth/and all through the farm/there grew a great thirst/as we worked off our arms. As we sweat’ in the heat/and worked up this great thirst/there was but one solution/which to try would be a first./So we gathered our gumption/and concocted our brew/and it tasted quite curious./Now I’m sharing it with you.

If Christmas in December has eggnog, then Christmas in July must have its own drink, and what better to depict the season than a refreshing glass of beef fizz! I’ll admit this drink is new to me and was jokingly suggested as a potential food topic by our very own graphic designer at the River Reporter, Amanda. She found one of those old-timey recipes that gave you neither accurate measurements nor confidence that the recipe would be even remotely palatable. After all, I don’t know too many other summer beverages that start off with a couple cans of beef broth. That’s right, beef broth. 

Now I couldn’t pass up trying this recipe as it was too strange, and in an effort to recreate it in modern measurements, my wife and I took a few guesses and changed the recipe—but ultimately it is true to the original source material. Albeit we did not know if that source material was satirical or simply rooted in the Great Depression. But seeing as we are always good for a joke and are also economically challenged, this drink was deemed to be an appropriate experiment.

Remember folks, like your mama and your buddies always say, don’t knock it till you try it. I will state before I continue that I conscripted my two- and five-year-olds to try this with us and no proverbial guinea pigs were harmed in the sampling of this drink. We mixed up our brew with all three very simple ingredients and set our cups out for the moment of truth.

Sip. Sip. Sip. Sip.

Silence.

Chelsea and I stared at each other and the kids, waiting to see everybody’s reactions—as though that would change the taste for better or worse. My eldest immediately put the cup down and began spitting as he ran for the fridge, using our experiment as a ploy to earn himself some palate-cleansing strawberries. “I don’t like it,” he repeated over and over. We laughed and kept telling him he didn’t have to drink it anymore. 

Our youngest, in the meantime, had initially refused to try it and was sipping a separate glass of milk. The moment we were distracted, however, he reached up for the beef fizz and took a long concentrated draw. “MMM yum!” he exclaimed. 

My wife and I, still reeling from the first child, turned in surprise at this very innocent evaluation. He took another sip, confirming his approval and we turned to each other to relay our thoughts. Well—all I can say is it’s not going to sell like Gatorade, but I’m sure there are folks out there who would drink it. It just won’t be us.

The way out here there are a lot of new things to try, and some of them are going to turn out pretty similar to what you thought they would. But then again, some might surprise you. This one surprised us—but not in a very enticing way. If you’re the kind of person who likes combining citrus and carbonation with a thin cold soup as a refreshing afternoon pick-me-up, then this is the recipe for you. Likewise, if you are entertaining but you really don’t want to be asked to do so again, this may also fit the bill. Just be sure to let my two-year-old know,  because we will no longer be making it for him.