Stupid Me, Stupid S’mores

When you live in Los Angeles, you pretty much don’t ever go camping.

You could surely go to the local supermarket and pick up one of those Hershey’s S’mores candy bars, which includes chocolate and marshmallow and graham cracker. You could then go home and set up a big tent in your backyard and power up the flashlights and sit in the dark while listening to the freeway buzz away and eat your little candy bar and all would probably be fine.

I don’t wanna be fine. I want a real S’more.

So I went down to the local supermarket and instead of buying the already completed S’more, I purchased a bag of marshmallows, a box of graham crackers and a bunch of Hershey’s chocolate bars. I paid for my items in the neato-keeno easy-check out line (where you are convinced you’re having WAY MORE FUN doing the checkout process all by yourself instead of inundating the people who get paid to do stuff like that with your groceries) and raced home to start the “camping-out” campire process.

Well, when you’re living in an urban jungle, the closest open flame just happens to only come in fours. Four burners, that is. I powered up the front right burner (the front left just seems to far to the left and the two back ones are, well, too far back) and opened up the marshmallow package.

I pulled out a plate, cracked a huge graham cracker in two, and placed four halves on the plate. I then took two Hershey’s chocolate bars and broke those up so that each of the two S’mores would have a layer of chocolate. Then I pulled out (in lieu of a branch from a tree in the wilderness) a fork, pierced a huge marshmallow and proceeded to turn it above the open flame.

Wallah! Instant indoor campfire! My Los Angeles S’more experiment was coming along nicely.

I, personally, don’t like the black marshmallows. I knew a bunch of kids in camptimes who used to say that eating the black stuff was great for you, but for me I loved the golden-brown marshmallow for my S’mores. And I was doing damn well, turning and rotating my fork above the flame as the white-devil began to turn a golden hue and expand and enlarge.

I eyed the plate. The chocolate and graham crackers. Waiting and ready. I licked my lips, hungry for the sweet nectar I was about to taste.

The marshmallow shivered around the fork — loose as the flame heated up the insides of the sugary treat. I poked and prodded, making sure the marshmallow was in good shape, loose and ready — and pulled the fork away from the flame. Placing it atop one half of a S’more, I closed the other side on top of it, pulling the fork away from my now completed S’more.

I looked at the fork, which still had some gooey goodness on it. Mmmmm.

…and proceeded to stick the flaming hot fork with marshmallow residue into my mouth, at which point I closed my mouth on the fork to scrape the candy from the hot metal spears.

I heard the sizzling of my lips before I felt the pain. The pain, that lasted a little over a full week.

Some may call it survival of the fittest. Others, like me, would call it hunger induced stupidity. And a few others might just laugh their ass off.

All good.

19 comments on “Stupid Me, Stupid S’mores

  1. jo - June 1, 2004 at 8:04 am -

    Heh heh. Remember that Sat Night Live thing where an announcer said, in a low voice to the audience, “These Japanese businessmen are having their first taste of American apple pie. What they don’t know is that the forks are heated WHITE HOT… let’s watch…”

  2. Kristi - June 1, 2004 at 8:04 am -

    Oops- it would be nice to actually enter a comment, eh?

    Anyhow, I’m with you on the golden marshmallow vs. the burnt, black marshmallow. I just don’t get what’s so enjoyable about eating marshmallow soot!

  3. Hilary - June 1, 2004 at 11:52 am -

    That’s why I always use a plastic chopstick when I roast the marshmallows over the stove.

  4. C(h)ristine - June 1, 2004 at 3:39 pm -

    Oooh! You are so right! I grew up in L.A., and the closest I got to camping was…roasting an oscar meyer hot dog…over the FLAME of GAS STOVE in the kitchen!

    Then I moved to SF/Berkeley…and I’ve become an outdoor camping nut! I have campfire s’mores all the time!

  5. C(h)ristine - June 1, 2004 at 3:42 pm -

    and wrt plastic forks — i’ve melted quite a few in my Los Angeles-residing youth. And plastic gets as hot as metal.

    Wood.
    Chopsticks.
    *take the pebble from my hand, little grasshopper…*

  6. Pauly D - June 1, 2004 at 4:36 pm -

    Doesn’t wood burn?

  7. Will - June 1, 2004 at 5:48 pm -

    I have roasted marshmallows over a controlled fire in my uncle’s back yard. I find that, rather than wait for the marshmallow to turn brown (since I am such an impatient person), I like to let the savory white morsel set fire. I then blow it out and enjoy both the “marshmallow soot” and gooey center all at once.

  8. C(h)ristine - June 1, 2004 at 7:45 pm -

    Wood burns – but at least..you know when it’s too hot to put in your mouth!

    Until the point it bursts into flames…it’s cool enough to eat off of. It’s the ideal marshmallow-tool.

    The problem is (and I learned this through many failed chemistry labs in college): hot metal looks just like cold metal. hot glass looks just like cold glass. plastic doesn’t betray much either.

    But wood? It lets you KNOW.

  9. Robbie - June 1, 2004 at 7:52 pm -

    Then there’s me who winced and had sympathy pains. Not for the burning metal, for the stupidity. 😉

  10. Lena - June 2, 2004 at 8:23 pm -

    Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, S’mores.

  11. Heather - June 2, 2004 at 10:03 pm -

    Controlled burn. Now there’s an oxymoron. More like Will is really an arsonist. I’m sure the firemarshall would love to see that controlled burn in Will’s uncle’s back yard. Will would probably like to dance around, playing a fiddle like Nero and watching an entire tractor trailer of marshmallows go up in white hot flames.

  12. Emily Drew - June 3, 2004 at 4:37 am -

    Ouch. If it makes you feel any better. I turned a kebob on my grill with my bare hand, while I had the oven mitt on the other. I sympathize.

  13. Emily Drew - June 3, 2004 at 4:37 am -

    Ouch. If it makes you feel any better, I turned a kebob on my grill with my bare hand, while I had the oven mitt on the other. I sympathize.

  14. Emily Drew - June 3, 2004 at 4:38 am -

    Now if I could figure out how to post only one comment…

  15. Jane - June 7, 2004 at 5:40 am -

    That reminds me of the time I was making caramel turtles and, heedless of the fact that I had just deliberately heated the caramel to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, I caught a stray dollop with my finger. I believe that took at least a week to heal, too. I fully sympathize with your impulsive fork-licking.

  16. Kathleen - June 9, 2004 at 12:31 pm -

    As I sat there roasting my marshmallow over the open flame of the fire last weekend, I watched the flames wrap around it and the metal. I thought, Pauly D must have REALLY been excited about his s’more.
    But I can’t blame you; they are taste-y!

  17. Gina - December 7, 2005 at 7:24 pm -

    Hey, Paul. My name is Gina, and I live in GA. I had the exact same experience as you just the other night. As I tried to research how to treat such painful and unexpected an injury, I found your blog. It made me feel much less…s’tupid…to have made such a s’mistake.
    I posted about it on my website, so feel free to check it out. I also placed a link to your blog in my post, just to prove to all of my friends that I’m not the only s’tupid one out there. I just wanted to let you know. Hope that’s okay with you. And thanks for sharing. It made me feel better!
    I wonder how many of us are out there…

  18. Lisa - January 20, 2018 at 3:15 pm -

    I just now did the same thing, I’ve got 4 white blisters on my bottom lip and just one on the corner top. I seared my lips.

  19. Tasha - October 24, 2018 at 7:51 pm -

    Ugh just did the same thing… tonight

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