Grammy Tietz’s Pistachio Pie in the Sky

just try it, yes you will like it, just one little bite

just try it, yes you will like it, just one little bite

Whenever Marc is gone I get the overwhelming taste for the forbidden foods of my youth. He has all these namby pamby allergies that keep him from eating the stuff I grew up on, my mom’s best casseroles, polish sausage, and DAIRY. Because the Easons love dairy. Now I’m a Fosse and as such I duly (and truly) love sushi and salsa, but still…mmmm…Pistachio Pie!

40 Ritz crackers (crushed in a gallon zip lock with a rolling pin)

1/2 cup sugar

1 stick of butter melted

Mix 1st three ingredients and press into a 9″x13″ pan (reserve 1/4 cup to sprinkle on top if you like) (I like)

With an electric mixer on low, combine:

2 packages pistachio pudding

2 cups of milk

1 quart of vanilla ice cream, softened

Pour mixture over the cracker crust, chill in fridge, serve

Whatever you think when you read this, I promise it’s good. Maddie, Katie, and I polished off an entire confection in the last two days. We arm wrestle for the corner pieces where the crust is thicker.

You know what else happens when Marc’s gone? I have no place to sleep.

It’s so sad and lonely in my big empty bed, so I went to sleep with Ellie, but she is squishy and kickish, and her mattress is really only comfortable if you weigh under 70 lbs.

So I got in bed with Jonathan, but gag, he smelled like unwashed little boy who had been jumping on the tramp all day so I had to get out! Memo to self: make son wash.

Katie is out because her bed is a twin plus it’s covered in all the hypo-allergenic mattress covers and whatnot that make me feel like I am slipping out.

That leaves Maddie which is actually pretty good for me, but she is a snot and doesn’t like parental company in bed. Oh sure, Ellie can snuggle in at 3 a.m. saying she’s scared but I just get the stink eye.

Honey, come home. I’ve had enough dairy.


1 Response so far »

  1. 1

    Aunt Colleen said,

    I wish your Grammy were computer liiterate (but we can’t even get her to use an ATM card!), because she’d be so happy to know you’re bragging about one of her recipes. This one must have come after my childhood, because I don’t remember it. Tonya probably would.

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