What a S'morgasbord!

The other day I was sitting at home minding my own business when my stomach said, "I could really use a s'more." I looked over to my fiance and repeated what my stomach had said and he didn't reply. So I said it again. He nodded. Perplexed, I said, "Have you ever had a s'more?" He shook his head.

I panicked. "Do you know what a s'more is?"

He shook his head.

Well now I was just flustered. "You know a s'more!! A marshmallow and chocolate and graham cracker over a fire?"

And that's when he replied, "What's a graham cracker?"

Preheat oven to 350F. Place 2 1/2c wheat flour, 1 tsp baking soda, 1 tsp salt, 3 tsps cinnamon and 4 tablespoons cold butter into a mixer and combine until like wet sand.

I was stunned. I didn't know what to do. Eventually, I decided to describe a graham cracker to him. Okay, for those of you who know what a graham cracker is, really think that through. My description resembled something like a sighted person describing purple to the blind, only more cracked out.

"You see it's a cracker that's like a biscuit. Well, not like an Australian biscuit. It's not a cookie. It's like the kind of biscuit you get in America, that's not a cookie. I mean. Wait. It's more like a cracker. Well, not really. It's a sweet cracker. With like, honey in it. And it's not really crisp like a cracker. But it's not soft or crumbly like a cookie. It's.."

In another bowl combine 2 egg whites, 3/4c brow sugar, 4 tablespoons honey and 2 tsps vanilla bean paste . Combine into mixer slowly until sticky dough forms.

"I get what you're saying!" he says to me, smiling. "I want to try a s'more!"

I beamed, "Well then I'll make one! Why don't you get the graham crackers and stuff on the way home tomorrow and I'll make them tomorrow for the fight?"

He agreed.

What he came home with was. Well. It was exactly as I described. Only not. As it turns out, a graham cracker is a very specific thing, but when described can be about two hundred different types of things.

Flour everything. Flour your hands, your bench, the top of the dough and the rolling pin. I'm not kidding, man. This dough is insanely sticky and if you add flour to the dough directly it falls apart. Nice, eh?

My fiance came home with a giant half kilo (pound) bar of compound baking chocolate, raspberry and vanilla flavoured marshmallows and a bag of tea cookies. You know those little cookies that ladies who lunch eat directly after finger sandwiches to dip into their tea? Yeah. Those.

I tried. I really did. I put melted the chocolate and added some cream and sugar and used that. I only used the vanilla marshmallows. I... well, there was nothing I could do about the biscuits cookies crackers.

He loved it.

Roll out dough, slice, place on baking sheet and prick with fork. Brush tops with egg whites and sprinkle with sugar. Bake 15 minutes.

I'm not kidding you people. He ate like 7 of them. He said they were great! I was sick. I was grossed out. I ate perhaps 3 out of some desperate hope they got better over time (hey man, he was really convincing they tasted fantastic) before handing them all over to him. The next day I ate all the tea biscuits and he was upset because I couldn't make him more. Ha. I did it on purpose.

If graham crackers had a Myspace, this would be the angle they photograph themselves.

He was quite upset by this and asked me to make them again repeatedly. It got to the point I could not take him to the supermarket or he'd hold up the packet of tea biscuits and beg me for them like a five year old child. I absolutely refused to make them again. I would absolutely not use my powers of cooking to disgrace the power of the S'more, man.

After weeks of this ordeal, I finally got sick of it. In order to placate him I convinced him I would make my own damn graham crackers so he could have a REAL s'more.



So I did.