Obsession with Key Lime Pie: the By-Product of a Batch of Green Cookies

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

My mom made my dad a batch of cookies several years ago, when they were dating. She dyed them green for St. Patrick’s Day. And they have been together ever since.

So, thanks Mom and Dad for the sweet tooth. I briefly described the desserts at Le Bec-Fin when Ms. Kelly was kind enough to treat me and Colleen to lunch several weeks ago. But desserts like these, with the forethought involved and the hours, years, spent perfecting these recipes, desserts like these deserve an ode all their own. (Not unlike my dad’s amazing brownies, who will receive their own ode in the future.)

Ms. Kelly had the Wendy, a daydream of milk chocolate mousse, chocolate sponge, and vanilla crème brulee, something that scientists at Hershey’s, who manufacture that sharp bite that chocolate should never have, need to spend some time savoring. My mom refuses all milk chocolate, a travesty I blame entirely on Hershey’s maleficient omnipresence in the States. She must try the Wendy. It will change everything.

Mrs. M. chose the Costa Rica, composed of praline, Bailey’s, and coffee marscapone, to form one of the most divine conceptions available in the city of Philadelphia. The Costa Rica reminds me of Indymisu, my chocolate-hazelnut tiramisu invention, though much more sophisticated and refined. The coffee marscapone in particular is so light and heavenly and stands out as one of the star ingredients in any of the dishes I have had so far.

Colleen had the frozen Grand Marnier soufflé, which we all expected to be chocolatey, but was actually white chocolatey. The orange was pleasant and crisp in contrast to the weight of the white chocolate. The frozen soufflé was an interesting lovechild of ice cream and mousse.

I chose the Mathilde, which was easily my favorite; lime mousse sandwiches a layer of raspberry gelee and it sits upon a vanilla macaroon sponge. I have such a weakness for lime desserts, and this invigorating interpretation of key lime pie balances the mousse with the uplifting raspberry. It brought back memories of our family vacation in Key West, when we took on the burden of finding the best key lime pie on the island. It was an arduous assignment, long hours, lots of legwork, and I’m not certain there is even an answer for such a large question. But we carried on. I inherited more than just a sweet tooth from my parents; perseverance and an unhealthy fixation with goals are also family traits. Onwards we go, and let there always be dessert after dinner!

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