"How do they taste?" you ask. Oh, have I got the answer for you. Imagine marshmallows are a fruit. You've only ever had the marshmallows from the produce section, the ones they picked before they were ripe so they could be piled in a refrigerated truck and driven 500 miles to a packing plant where they were handled, graded, sorted, and boxed. Then driven again to your grocery store, unpacked, and displayed. Now imagine you're in a marshmallow grove. You reach up to choose a marshmallow that is perfectly ripe, untouched, and fresh as the morning. You bite. That's what they taste like.
Want the recipe? Here's the link. I suggest you memorize it. That way, you can, by reproducing these gems of fluffy joy, prove to the aliens that abduct you that humans should be regarded as a superior intelligence and not destroyed for making films like Superbad. (apologies if you liked Superbad--no, really, if you liked Superbad, I'm soooo sorry. But being able to make marshmallows should make up for that.)
And, oh, yeah, I finished the first Prideful and Prejudiced sock. It fits great. I didn't realize the toe was gonna be green!