I was at a fancy wine bar with a co-worker and his wife the other night. After we demolish the chef’s charcuterie and cheese selection I ask the bartender,
“What’s for dessert?”
“You can make s’mores at the fire outside or-“
-Say no more, s’mores it is.
I head outside. There are already two drunk women struggling to make dessert. They should not be this close to fire. One woman drops her burning marshmallow into the ash. If you’ve ever roasted marshmallows before, you know that this is the end of the line for that ‘mallow. Let it die. Get a new one. Start over.
The woman does not do this. She plucks up the still burning marshmallow. It is now covered in ash and she puts it on her chocolate and graham cracker. The flame finally goes out. She takes a bite. Her astonished friend who’s response time has slowed, manages a,
“What are you doing?”
Too little too late.
When it comes to cooking I may not know much, but I’m a pro at s’mores. I take my perfect s’more inside. My co-worker looks at me and says,
“We have to make them ourselves?”
“Yeah, what did you think I was doing out there?”
“Doesn’t seem like a good idea to let drunk people get close to the fire.”