My dad opens the fridge and notices a few bottles of stuff in there. "Hey, Pete, can I have one of your iced teas?"
I didn't remember having any iced teas in the fridge, then I remembered. Oh, that's not iced tea. That's root beer. Have some.
"...I thought you couldn't drink soda pop."
It's not carbonated.
"Where did you find noncarbonated root beer?"
I made it.
"You made your own root beer?!?"
You're always calling me Chef Boyardee, and you're surprised I made my own root beer?
"...well, I mean...how do you make it?"
I go over to the spice cabinet and pull out a box marked "Always G Rated Root Beer". In it is sassafrass, vanilla, cinnamon sticks (the real stuff from Madagascar, not the store bought stuff. Trust me, you have it once, there's no going back), and other stuff that goes in the mix. Yeah, it's a bit of work, but like I always say, cooking is like sex -- you only get out of it what you put into it.
So pappa-sam decided to give it a try.
He just left with five bottles. He says he may even want the recipe to try himself one day.
Conclusive proof that, damn, I'm good!