This S’Mores Recipe Is So Good, It’ll Melt Your Heart, Just Like This Charming Story That Precedes It
For my darling nephew’s six-and-a-half birthday party, I had planned a quaint but fun-filled theme of outdoor camping, just like they do in movies. We would use artificial grass, earthy perfumes, and young saplings to transform the yacht into a lightly wooded glen. My nephew and his classmates would frolic amid child-sized log cabins and weave cashmere friendship bracelets before a stunning fireworks finale.
Unfortunately, at the last minute, my household staff reported that all suppliers were inexplicably out of marshmallows.
I was at a loss, dear readers. The party was to be that very afternoon. The Belgian chocolate had been ordered, my bakery staff had hand-baked sixty pounds of graham crackers, but what were we to do about the marshmallows? What were we to do without s’mores?
In distress and greatly pressed for time, I attended my weekly pilates lesson and then accompanied my dog Fifi for a walk. Walking Fifi among the regular people always helps me to think.
To my dismay, it soon began to rain, threatening my lovely hat and vintage umbrella (I shouldn’t have brought the umbrella on such an overcast day but it went so well with my hat). Fifi and I took refuge under a tree, shooing away a woman and her three squalling children.
As I watched the rain pouring down, it seemed as if everything in my life was going wrong. However, as if to highlight that there are always those less fortunate than yourself, at that moment a bedraggled mother duck stepped out of the bushes nearby.
Behind the mother duck came two puppies, a baby bunny, a baby goat, a baby yak, and twelve kittens. All had clearly been adopted by this compassionate fowl and all were equally soaked and pitiful. They tumbled through the grass, a tiny parade of adorableness. I quickly called to the poor things and they came right over to take shelter under the tree with me and Fifi.
When the rain stopped, the mother duck took a few steps, then looked back at me expectantly. Seeing that she was attempting to repay me, I followed her (and her darling familial entourage) across the street and into a nearby hospital. There, the duck led me to a room occupied by an elderly woman.
“Why, those puppies,” the bedridden old lady gasped as we entered. “They are the spitting images of my darling Daisy, the faithful dog my late husband and I raised together. Daisy drowned while saving my husband’s life, but she must have had descendants we didn’t know about!”
“I’m pretty sure the duck is these puppies’ mother,” I said, but the elderly woman ignored me.
With tears in her eyes, she told me that she was dying of a mysterious ailment (she told me the name of the ailment, but I was not paying attention to that part).
“I shall not last much longer,” she said. “All I wished for in my final hours was to be reminded of my late husband and his faithful dog. You have fulfilled that wish and completed my life. Thank you for bringing these puppies here and bringing me peace.”
“It’s really nothing,” I said, internally fretting that the rain might have ruined the carved teak-wood logs that my nephew and his classmates would sit around during the ghost story-telling portion of the party.
“Let me repay you,” rasped the old lady, whose skin was in terrible condition—she should have moisturized. “All I have left in the world after my immense medical costs is this.” Then, to my surprise, she reached beside her bed and, with unexpected strength, lifted up a large bag of marshmallows!
“My god, it’s a miracle,” I said. I snatched up the bag of marshmallows (and Fifi—her legs are too short for running) and booked it to the yacht. I left the charming animal family clustered around the old lady’s bedside; presumably, she adopted all of them and their cuteness prompted her to make a full recovery.
And yes, the party went smashingly, thank you for asking! Nothing was damaged in the rain, and the s’mores, toasted over a roaring bonfire (we pulled a smaller boat up next to the yacht and set it on fire), were of course delicious.
- Large square of Belgian chocolate
- Hand-baked graham cracker
Toast the marshmallow over a fire (if no small flammable boat available or if not camping at sea, an ordinary bonfire will do). For best results use a peeled sandalwood stick as a skewer.
Sandwich the chocolate and the toasted marshmallow between two graham cracker halves. Enjoy in the company of good friends and competent staff.
So good they will melt your heart, though surely not as much as my story did!