A while back there was a massive thunderstorm that lasted about five hours.
It was mostly sunny when I walked home from my evening yoga class, and I went up to the apartment to grab my purse, went down to my car, and – convertible top down – pulled out of the parkade to pouring rain. The good kind, with really big drops. I actually squealed a little bit because I wasn’t expecting it, and had to do a mad dash to put the top back up.
The rain pounded until way past when I was already asleep, but while I was in bed reading I was reminded of when I was in high school and I would light candles and roast marshmallows in my bedroom instead of falling asleep. I would open the window all the way and try to seal the cracks around my bedroom door with towels so my mom wouldn’t know what I was doing. But she always smelled the burnt sugar anyway and I got in trouble.
So last night I filled a small bowl with some marshmallows, lit a candle, opened the window all the way (I opted against cramming towels against the door this time), and roasted layer after layer of gooey sugary goodness.
Candles don’t work quite as well as campfires, of course… On the outer layer they get covered in a thin layer of soot and only roast (well, burn) in little spots, but the inner layers are easy to get a perfect golden brown.
And they taste pretty amazing.
It seems that my mom’s trouble-radar has toned down since I was a teenager – probably with good reason – since I didn’t get caught (as far as I know). But I would like to point out that roasting marshmallows in my bedroom was probably one of my less troublesome teenage nighttime adventures…
Plus she gave me the idea when she let me roast marshmallows in our living room fireplace once when I was eight.