Ever one to embrace to the theme party, last Friday I decided to kill two very fun birds with one stone, combining my house-warming party with a Miracle Berry ‘flavor tripping’ party. (Go ahead an roll your eyes over that ‘flavor tripping’ bit. I certainly did.)Miracle Berries are gorgeous little numbers that produce a protein that makes sour food taste sweet for an hour or so. Crazy, right? I opted to buy Miracle Berry tablets rather than the actual berries – the tablets are heaps cheaper and keep longer than the berries. So then you can keep the extras in your purse and pop one before you head to that awful work potluck. Because hot dish will taste better if it’s sweet, right?
I invited over a few of my favorite ladies to dabble in sour food and show off my tiny new pad. Everybody brought some mouth-puckering food to share and generally expressed nerves/excitement over altering our tasting abilities. So we all took a deep breath, took the tablet and quickly had our minds blown.
Really, you guys? It was insane. Raw rhubarb was sweetly tangy, dark bitter coffee didn’t need creamer and I was convinced that dill pickle chips dipped in goat cheese equaled awesome. In fact, we found non-dry wine and champagne almost too sweet to drink. And what’s this?
Why, that’s me drinking a Guinness. If you look carefully, there’s also a pig flying in the background, because that’s about how often you’ll find me drinking beer.Now, I can’t say the Miracle Berries were directly responsible for the awesomeness of the remainder of the party, but maybe if you try them you, too, will find yourself:
- taking photos in which you recreate classic graduation poses
- taking a series of group shots that recreate the ANTM final photos where someone is eliminated each week
- taking photos wherein you pretend you’re all dinosaurs
- going to ridiculous college bars where everyone thinks you’re a bachelorette party because apparently it’s rare to see so many women who like each other in a group
- dancing joyfully to awful, awful Top 40s Pop and loving it
- befriending strange boys you see laying on a lawn, looking at stars
- introducing the boy who looks like Chris Isaak to your cutie single friend
- chatting about Bret Easton Ellis and low-income housing policies at 1:30 am in a crowded bar
- being asked for your number by a poindexter-y blond lawyer who tells you he will take you to a play, that you can both secretly research it ahead of time and then try to impress each other with your knowledge of the theater.
In summary: Miracle Berries? Recommended. House warming party full of all your favorite people? Very, very highly recommended.
Would you ever try Miracle Berries?