As a kid, I remember s’mores being a rare delicacy around the fire pit when I went camping with my family. Marshmallows, sure. Those were staples, packed along with hot dogs and baked beans. But actually pulling out all the stops, and bringing graham crackers and chocolate, too? That somehow seemed to be more difficult.
And now, as an adult, I get it. S’mores are a major treat. They’re a special occasion. One can’t have s’mores each and every time the campfire roars, lest the prestige of the dessert would be called into question. That’s what makes this memory so wonderful.
The house I bought with my ex-wife had a gorgeous patio, with a fire pit in its center. I remember sitting in the beautiful, teal adirondack chairs my mom got us for a housewarming gift, and roasting marshmallows to make s’mores once. That’s a nice memory, but it’s tinged with sadness. I often grieve the loss of that house, of that backyard.
I wanted to make a new memory when it came to s’mores. But, living on the 2nd floor of a condo building, I wasn’t set up to (safely) start any fires. I needed help.
Luckily, a wonderful friend answered my call. She has a backyard. She has a fire pit. And she has kids, who would also happily take part in helping me make this memory.
Since we’re in Florida, we’re about to head into the hot, summer months. Enjoying a blazing fire, in the midst of heavy and stifling humidity, isn’t anywhere close to enticing. So, when we had a rare, late-March cold front pass through, we grabbed at the chance to roast our fancy desserts in the calm, 70F evening air.
I even got to try out some new oat milk chocolate, which melted deliciously. Add in some perfectly roasted Dandies marshmallows, and some honey-free graham crackers, and my s’mores were drool-worthy. I may have literally drooled, but no one saw.
This is such a sweet memory to have!