My generation is probably the last that will remember the showers given to her and the showers I gave my friends. I remember especially a bridal shower I gave my friend Julie in which the menu was taken from Southern Living. I know I still have copy of this article tucked somewhere in an attic memory box. As I recall, the menu featured something fruity, something cheesy, something savory, something chocolate, and a cake. We held the shower at my mom's house and invited Julie's friends, especially women from her church. It was a Sunday afternoon in July and we all wore our Sunday best, which I'm sure included pantyhose and heels.
I mentioned the food, but didn't think of the beverage, the most important aspect for a Sunday afternoon in July. In fact, I can't even remember what punch I used, because I've since found a real keeper, a tea punch recipe from a Junior League cookbook, so you know it's good.
This is from Main Street, published by the Junior Auxiliary of Franklin, Tennessee, which, if you have never been there, is the heart of God's country and pretty high in the list Top 3 Places I Could Contentedly Spend the Rest of My life.
3 cups brewed tea
3 cups orange juice
3 cups pineapple juice
1 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice
2 cups sugar
6 cups ginger ale
Mix the tea and juices in a large pitcher. Stir in the sugar until dissolved. Add the ginger ale just before serving. Pour over crushed ice in tall glasses.
Yield: one gallon
This is the recipe as written. Since I happen to own not one, but two punch bowls, I would rinse out a punch bowl, surround it with lovely cut flowers at the base and pour the punch into it. Serve with your grandmother's monogrammed sterling punch ladle (which is never to be confused with the soup ladle, for goodness' sake, people will think you are ill-bred and a heathen), which you have polished for this occasion. Put out a silver tray with all those cute punch cups, freshly washed. And know that you are part of a rite, a memory and a passage from one life to the next, marking the end of a single life and entering a partnered life. And I won't breathe a word if you decide to go sans pantyhose.