Never Burn Yourself Roasting Marshmallows Again
Subtitle: Vacation Pics I Thought You’d Like
No longer will I risk life and limb seeking after the oft-coveted perfect marshmallow. This is a technique used by the ancients, namely, finding a stick longer than the Eiffel Tower, placing your mallow on the end, and roasting your little heart away (not to be taken literally). The days of singeing your hand hairs, eyebrow hairs and whatever else type hairs you may have left exposed, are gone. Been there. Done that. Don’t want any further part of it. Take notes if you need to. You’ll notice the perfect curvature and extension of the stick, along with it’s characteristic beefiness. Not just any long stick will do. It must be able to withstand the torque of the mallow (or mallows, since you will likely have room for multiple) placed upon it. The pull of gravity must also be figured in the equation. You may even want an added layer of protection between you and the flames just in case. Other humans will work fine. A pregnant lady adds an additional layer of protection.
Once every factor is assessed, none withstanding, you’re ready to begin the process of roasting. Some prefer to dangle their tasty morsel over the flame, as if taunting the fiery dancers with it’s gooiness, never allowing the poor flame to lick up the juices. I prefer the alternative method, namely, completely engulfing the delicious blob of sugary goo in flames until it is charred black like the dark caverns of Hades. Ahh, yes. Nothing says summer, like a crispy-black marshmallow covered in delicious sugary ash and then sandwiched between two crunchy graham cracker squares adorned with Hershey’s chocolate. And nothing rekindles the flames of love like a little mallow roasting, right babe? And to think, it all took place from about half a football field away.
(“Hmm … is anybody else smelling that? Like the smell of a deck burning?”)