grasshopper pie

In the early eighties, my mom used to make it a lot. I’m not sure if it was a popular dessert then, or if my mom just liked it. She did love mint… But either way, a grasshopper pie often sat on the dessert tables of my childhood.

When I was a kid, I never liked it. Too strong, with it’s teensy kick of creme de menthe, it had an aftertaste I didn’t like much. And mint was much less tempting a flavor than the chocolate or even sweet fruits of other desserts.

I never really thought about it much as an adult. My mom still made it, rarely, for holidays. I’d have a piece once in a while, but I always got the feeling my mom made it for herself. No one else was a fan of it.

I’ve been feeling a bit low recently, and I don’t know why but out of the blue I remembered grasshopper pie. So I made one during the last snowstorm, and turns out in my family no one but me likes it.

I’m slowly working my way through this nostalgic pie, one slice a night, and I can’t decide if it is a comfort or tragically depressing.


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