Festive Recipe: Minty Green Grasshoppers!

This classic holiday recipe starts with vanilla ice cream!

I spent Christmas Eve with my mom, brothers, sister-in-law, nieces, nephew, and grandmother. That's really saying something considering the latter permanently relocated to heaven back in 2009.

No, no, I didn't take up magic or witchcraft or paranormal psychic tarot-card reading. No. I made grasshoppers.

The drink.

See, when I was a kid, everyone in my family - everyone - spent Christmas at my grandma's house. All the cousins, aunts, uncles, family friends, dogs - you name it. And every year, my cousins spent ninety percent of the day celebrating our Savior's birth by whipping up what's basically a boozy shamrock shake.

Hallelujah.

I am the youngest among all my siblings and cousins, so I had to wait until I was of age - or at least almost of age - to get my hands on a glass of this cool, creamy, minty, green goodness.

When I finally was allowed a taste, it was like being indoctrinated in The Club.

I was officially a part of the family now! I could sip my green grasshopper and clink my classy crystal glass with all my mature, grown-up cousins.

I was finally one of them.

Sadly, only a few years later, my grandma said her final goodbyes to us all.

Christmas has never been the same since.

Soon, all the cousins were having families of their own. Despite my grandmother's gut-wrenching absence, the family was expanding. And when Grandma's old farmhouse was sold off and eventually torn down and rebuilt and a new family moved in, clueless to the priceless memories that were born on that plot of land, we couldn't all gather under that one roof even if it was still standing.

The home where my entire family celebrated Christmas year after year was gone.

Don't worry, this post won't be a total downer. It has a happy-ish ending. Hang on.

A couple weeks ago, my best friend invited me to his grandma's house to take part in their holiday tradition: making pierogies. (I'm starting to think that the word "tradition" needs to be redefined as "an annual excuse to consume deliciously unhealthy things as a way of bonding with one another.")

Now, I'm half Polish, so naturally, I accepted his invitation. But even if my heritage did not align with his, I've been a lifelong afficionado of dough stuffed with cheese - stuffed with anything, really - and would have still said yes in a heartbeat.

When I arrived at his grandma's home, the kitchen was covered in flour, little circles of dough were ready to be filled with a special cheese blend his grandma was mixing up in a bowl so big she could go swimming in it. My friend taught me how to wet the edges to seal the dough after it's been filled; how to use their electric roller; how to boil 'em, dry 'em, and then fry 'em up in the one ingredient that simultaneously improves flavor and spikes cholesterol levels: butter.

It was a blast.

But it was more than just a fun day. I was a part of their family's annual Christmas tradition. Before I could even take a bite of those perfectly imperfect handmade pockets of deliciousness, a pang of sadness hit me. What the heck?

Memories of my family's Christmas tradition flashed in my mind. The one thing we always did every year was make grasshoppers. Cheesy as it may sound, this was one little piece of the puzzle that made our family Christmas ours.

And it had been lying dormant in my heart for sixteen years.

I would not arrive at my mom's house on Christmas Eve with mere presents. I would also be equipped with ice cream and a big green bottle o' booze.

This is the year we reclaimed our family Christmas tradition.

I blended us all a grasshopper not really knowing what I was doing - after all, I only ever achieved clearance to taste them, not make them. But how hard could it be?

Turns out, super freakin' easy. Even someone blinded by her own nostalgic tears can do it.

We all clinked our glasses - my mom happened to have these vintage, classy little green goblets that looked equal parts Christmas and dust (Don't worry; we cleaned 'em first) - and toasted to Grandma.

It was ridiculous that I was too nervous to take the first sip, but I didn't get the white creme de cacao nor did I measure anything. And my excited nerves made me forget to sprinkle on the nutmeg afterward. I was going solely off color. I was fixated on it. You want it to be a nice pastel minty green. Too light, and it'll just taste like ice cream. Too dark, and it'll be like all the dentists in the world got together to combine all the minty toothpaste into one repulsive mint and then blended that into our family recipe. Would this taste okay?

My brother bravely - eagerly? - took the first sip.

His eyes twinkled. His mouth turned up at the corners. "Takes ya right back." He nodded his approval while admiring the grasshopper in his hand before gulping down the rest.

We did it. We revived our old family tradition. And in a way, we revived Grandma.

The rest of our conversation while enjoying our cocktails was filled with memories. We reminisced like it was an Olympic sport and we were going for the gold.

Here is our version of the festive green grasshopper, perfect for holiday parties!

Ingredients:

Vanilla bean ice cream

Creme de menthe (Get the green kind, not the clear kind!)

White creme de cacao

Nutmeg (optional)

Maraschino cherries (optional)

Instructions:

If you want to make it like we do in our family, you don't measure anything. You just go with the flow. All you recipe perfectionists out there are going to have to loosen up with this one.

Scoop the ice cream into a blender. Add a few glugs of creme de menthe (you don't need a lot - this stuff is strong). Add the same amount of glugs of white creme de cacao.

Blend, baby, blend!

If the color is an appealing light pastel green, you're probably good to go! Too dark? Add another scoop of ice cream.

If you want it to be thinner, you can blend in a little water or cream.

Pour in vintage festive glasses and top each with a sprinkle of nutmeg (or cinnamon) and top it with a cherry!

Happy holidays!

Laura Botten is a voice actor and author of the novel A Recipe from Rome, available now. Read the first chapter and get exclusive bonus content including recipes when you sign up for her newsletter here. She is currently working on her second novel.