Monday, July 6, 2009

Proof of Intelligence

Tiny made marshmallows. "Made 'em?" you ask. "You mean roasted 'em, right?" Wrong. Absolutely, wonderfully, scrumptiously wrong. She made 'em. From scratch.
"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!