Basil & Champagne Peach Granita

A little French. A little Italian. Cold and refreshing, saving me from this sweltering European summer. Peach and basil granita by the spoonful.

Last week, a friend I used to compete in show jumping with sent me a photo of a peach milkshake. "The first peach milkshake of the season. Thinking of you!"

I've known her since I was twelve. We met at the horse barn and instantly became friends over our shared love of competition and flying over a course of jumps. Now that we're an ocean apart, I still receive the yearly message about peach season. Apparently I've consumed enough peach milkshakes over the years that they've become my summer identity card. What a great legacy to leave behind.

I received her message while attending the Americans in Bordeaux Fourth of July celebration, complete with a French marinière-clad band enthusiastically belting out Americana classics. I've now heard some version of Hotel California in five different countries. It keeps finding me.

It was here that my accent came into question yet again. Though, for once, not by the French. By a fellow American expat.