Raspberry Syrup

*Free shipping on orders over $35* Raspberry Our raspberry syrup is the kind of sweet that knows exactly what it’s doing. Bright, bold, and a little dangerous, it hits you with that tart first impression and then melts into warm whispers of ginger, cacao, mint, and just a hint of vanilla—like someone who pretends they’re “just friends” but keeps leaning in a little too close. Stir it into a margarita, pour it over ice with soda, shake it into gin, or lace it into dessert. However you use it, this syrup brings the kind of energy that makes your pulse skip and your cheeks flush. It’s playful. It’s seductive. It’s the flavor of that one summer romance you still think about when you hear certain songs—bright raspberries tangled up with just enough heat and spice to remind you why you got into trouble in the first place. Go on. Let this one ruin your favorite drink for anyone else.   Looking for cocktail inspiration? Try these refreshing drink recipes using Bitter Ex Raspberry Syrup! Potential allergens or sensitivities: raspberries, lemon, lime, vanilla, ginger, cacao, mint, thyme, citric acid, malic acid  Raspberries by Joseph O. Legaspi It is the season of berries, which could mean summer— in Chile, Mexico, or Jane Street where the creamy smell of biscuits is Virginia to me. Dear one, in your cotton turtleneck, white as the hair-cloud on your chirping head, you’re the best brunch hostess. You soften the butter, lambent warmth, sunshiny in the overcast. Around the handle of your gentle kettle you tie the strings of the tea bags, afloat inside in their darkening infusion, buoyed by threads that tug I am here, not too far away. I am to pull you back to shore. And you let us set the table in the patio, in the back garden because it is seasonal, a light sweater would do, as we pour honey, conjuring the invisible bees. You ladle the eggs, open-faced, their yolks aglow miniature planets, on my plate next to a biscuit like a bivalve, the salad crisps as autumnal air. Our talk rises, blue steam, radiator heat, buds burgeoning from spindly branches while you listen, dispense, and sing Aah, there’s more sweetness! And we head in to the sink. You tell me to run the water gently over the cup of raspberries. They are so delicate, you say, mere force of the faucet can wither them into pulp. Therefore, as you’ve shown, my fingers and hand transform into a sieve, showering into cleanliness the acorn-shaped lantern-redness with expert tenderness.