The grasshopper is a delicious dessert cocktail, but I rarely make them because of their repulsive name. I just can’t stand the idea of drinking insects. Is that so difficult to understand?
Why the inventor, some now-unknown master mixer but terrible namer in the French Quarter of New Orleans, probably in the early 1950s, felt compelled to dub his rich, creamy, minty milkshake of a drink after an overly excitable leapy-crawler – featured as one of the plagues visited on Egypt in the Lord’s surprisingly belabored attempts to free the Jews from slavery – is quite beyond me.
Given its already nauseating name, I kept the cocktail du weekend a secret from the housemates this time around.
I started the meal with a yellow tomato gazpacho, which turned out to be surprisingly unlike the typical throw-everything-in-the-blender messes that we’re all used to. For one thing, there was no bread to thicken it; second, the color was quite a spectacularly bright yellow, what with the yellow tomatoes and the inspired addition of a little bit of no-pulp orange juice. Robbie flew off into a disgusting tangent about what the color reminded him of, but the adults at the table ignored him, with the exception of Craig, Chipper, Sal, Sean, Kyle, and Dan. (Yes, readers – I was the only adult at the table.)
We moved on to a heavier main course: linguini carbonara, made in part from the bacon grease I’d saved from last Sunday’s breakfast. OK, not so good for you. But delicious! Those two extra egg yolks I added to the recipe’s recommended three also enhanced the fat and cholesterol reverie.
I suppose I should have listened to Dan and let him make a fruit salad, a lighter ending to the meal than the Grasshoppers I had a craving for. Dan makes an excellent fruit salad – any fresh, ripe fruit cut up mixed with whole blueberries and raspberries and tossed with a little Triple Sec – but it was after the Fourth of July at Fire Island Pines and I was getting a little irritated at the endless parade of flawless chiseled abs and decided to make sure than no one in our house could possible have them. We practically had to hold Robbie down in the chair, pinch his nose closed and pour the drink into him, but even he drank his full share and admitted that his perfectly tight stomach could stand a little cuddly layer of fat as long as the cause was a delicious – I can barely type it – Grasshopper.
1 part green crème de menthe
1 part white crème de cocoa
1 part heavy cream
Mix ingredients together with ice in a shaker, shake and serve in a cocktail glass. In addition to white crème to cocoa, there is also dark crème de cocoa. Beware: It will really screw up the color of your grasshopper