They were, as I expected, utterly delicious and exactly the same as the ones made from the cereal we grew up scarfing down by the bowl full.
Also, as expected, they were gone by the time I sat down with my tea to watch The Biggest Loser.
Can’t keep treats in my house, no way, no how.
Scott ate a handful, then Nick came up for the rest. He’s come a long way; he used to balk at no name cereal.
He called it welfare cereal, sometimes ghetto treats.
Now that Schnick (Nick and Shyla) are getting ready to welcome Wheels into the world, his priorities have changed. I don’t see him filling his cart with name brand items. I don’t even see him shopping at the regular shopping mall.
No sir, Nick and Shyla have embraced their inner tiger, their Giant Tiger.
They come home clutching bags of groceries they got for $50, most in cardboard boxes, a lot with weird names.
Nick tried to cook a pizza the other night, only the pizza wasn’t called pizza. It was called Cheese Crisp and it had no visible crust. Needless to say, it melted all over my beautiful Kitchen Aid oven.
Damn you, GT Boutique!
Oh well, at least he’s buying his own groceries.
That’s got to count for something.
You know the thing I noticed about the welfare cereal? It has the recipe for Rice Krispies squares on the side of the box. If you are regular makers of these crispy marshmallow delights, you will know that Kellogg’s puts its recipe on the inside of the box, which means that the cook has to take the cereal out of the package and rip open the box.
Like the recipe is some kind of big secret.
But the no name people are up front and civilized. They declare the box open for business but you don’t have to rip it open.
I hate stuff like this.
I also hate that there are no alternative recipes for big and small marshmallows. I always get the wrong kind and have to go searching for the equivalency on the Internet.
Not only that, but the manufacturers take great delight in putting out huge bags of marshmallows that match no recipe whatsoever.
Based on my research, 50 big marshmallows are the equivalent of five cups of small ones.
I’m sure you already know this, but I can never remember.
Now that I’ve posted this reference, I know where to look next time I’ve got the ninety pound bag of the wrong marshmallows.
Next time I make welfare krispie treats.