The Backstory is a column celebrating fun and forgotten history!
My favorite way to celebrate the holiday season and relieve post-semester stress is by smashing a pig with a hammer.
But the pig is made of peppermint candy, so it’s OK.
Let me explain.
My parents grew up in Saratoga, New York. It’s a small town with a big legacy: Saratoga is home to an ugly patch of grass where George Washington did some stuff that my history teachers tell me was important, and, more importantly, it’s where hot fudge and the potato chip were born. But most importantly, it’s home to the peppermint pig.
(Ilena M.)
In ye olden days, pigs symbolized health, happiness, and financial prosperity. Glucksschwein (Lucky Pig) imagery has waddled through German art since the Middle Ages. In Europe, it’s common to enjoy pigs molded out of marzipan as a holiday treat—even today.
But everything changed when they added peppermint to the mix. In the mid-19th century, European chefs immigrated to Saratoga to support the town’s bustling tourist economy, which, with its legendary horse racing and smelly mineral water (and soon, peppermint pigs), was a go-to getaway for the rich and famous.
Feeling homesick during the holidays, workers requested the local candymaker to whip up some marzipan pigs. But, as legend has it, marzipan was too hard to get a hold of, so the clever confectioner improvised. He poured peppermint candy into the pig mold and… voilà! The perfect porkless delicacy was born.
(Ilena M.)
There was only one slight hiccup: the pigs were too big for a bite-sized treat and customers had to break them apart to eat. But never fear! The pigs were packaged in red velvet bags alongside teeny-tiny silver mallets, and, when the locals went hog wild for them, a tradition was born—families would pass their peppermint pig around the Christmas table, each member breaking off a piece and sharing words of gratitude.
The business blossomed for over half a century. It came to a screeching halt during WWII when sugar rationing obliterated pig production, but a local family brought them back forty years later. Today, customers can choose from a whole crew of peppermint pigs—baby Tucker (who’s dipped in chocolate), little Holly, medium Noel, and large Clarence.
I think my parents might be single-handedly keeping the peppermint pig business alive, but, by sharing our favorite holiday treat with friends and family, we carry on its tradition of joy and togetherness, one whack at a time.
