If You're In Rhode Island, Don't Miss Out On This Beachtime Sipper

Beach days in the state of Rhode Island are absolutely unmatched. After all, it has the title of "The Ocean State" for a reason. Every year, folks flock to the tiniest state with, dare I say, the best beaches. The seagulls are flying (and trying to steal your sandwich), the salt spray is in your hair, and if you're like me, there is a Del's lemonade in your hand. 

No, this isn't just any store-bought lemonade; it's a Rhode Island legend and one of the delicacies you have to try if you visit the region. I say "region" here, as these lemonades — traditionally served frozen and slushy — are available in small pockets of Massachusetts (though weirdly, not Connecticut; you cross the border into Stonington from Westerly and they practically disappear). On the beach, you'll find Del's frozen lemonades served in their signature green-and-white paper cups and watch as patrons crush them like pudding cups. Any self-respecting Rhode Islander knows that using a straw in one of them is blasphemous, and doing so is the easiest way to tell that someone is not from the state. 

But what makes a Del's frozen lemonade different than others? Well, it only comes in a limited number of flavors, the most popular being the plain lemonade (though watermelon also hits the spot from time to time). It's not icy and hard like a snow cone, and even when you drain all of the lemonade from the cup, the ice is still lemon-essenced. But perhaps the best part, at least in my opinion, is the chunks (not just pulp) of lemon rind in every bite. In short, it just hits different.

The story of Del's is a Rhody one through and through, but it started with an Italian immigrant from Naples. When the first stand opened in Cranston, it only sold frozen lemonade. Since then, the Del's family has franchised brick-and-mortar locations all over the state (many of which are seasonal) and has a fleet of trucks that appear at parks, events, in Walmart parking lots (which I have been known to frequent), and, of course, at the beach. When I see my first Del's truck of the year, I consider it the unofficial start of summer in the state I call home (and I'm sure other New Englanders feel the same about their favorite nostalgic state foods). A fair number of beach stands and snack shops serve Del's, too, and you'll see the cups everywhere if you visit any one of the state or town beaches during the summer. It's not uncommon to see barefoot, beach-going children toting cups of it or adults sipping on the Del's Shandy, the result of a partnership between Del's and Narragansett Lager. In a state so small, Del's is one of the treats that we can tout as being uniquely Rhode Island, which I think contributes to the fanfare. That, and it's wicked refreshing. 

You can also find its bottled lemonade in grocery and convenience stores, but they pale in comparison to the feeling of a cold Del's in your hand, the sand between your toes, and the salt in your hair. My advice? Stop at the sign of the lemon — it'll always be worth it.