As anyone who knows me knows, I love puttering around in the kitchen.
I also have a somewhat unholy love of cereal marshmallows.
I know, it's weird. I have a strong streak of food snobbery running through my being, like a delightful ribbon of beef fat marbling a good steak. I rail mercilessly against the abomination that is margarine, against scary meat slime, against the whole Sandra Lee school of ranch-dressing-and-Cool-Whip cookery.
But I cannot get enough of those crunchy little morsels of magical deliciousness. They're sweet and cheery and uncomplicated; they make no pretense of being anything other than what they are. In a world full of acquired tastes and excessively character-building experiences, cereal marshmallows say "You know what? Just settle down and have some pink sugar. See? All better now?" And it is.
So, it was with great moral confusion that I regarded this post about making your own cereal marshmallows.
My first reaction was "I am about to become one of those people who gets too big to leave their own home."
My second reaction was relief, as I read the recipe and realized that even I wasn't going to mess around with this kind of fiddliness. Yeesh. Cutting out each individual morsel with aspic cutters? Maybe. Homemade corn syrup? Leaving the marshmallows to dry uncovered, for days on end, in a house containing one (1) recreationally destructive Viking cat? Wait, back up, homemade corn syrup?
It's kind of cool that someone hacked the recipe... I mean, you know, Maker pride and all that. But the Zen of the cereal marshmallow lies in mindless enjoyment. I shall wave a white flag with dignity and, um, order a bag of cereal marshmallows online.