Ahhhh! It’s that time of year again… time to put away the ol’ snow shovel and long johns and start digging out the garden hose and solar lights!
Pardon me if you’re superstitious and believe my writing of this will somehow jinx it, but I’m going to go ahead and be hopeful. We have, after all had a long span of 40-degree days and some sunshine. Is there anything better than watching the world thaw?
Living in an already thawed world maybe? Well, it’s on the way, and many of us are ecstatic. After all this flood stuff is over we can get a start on our gardens and making our grass look nicer than our neighbor’s so that it can all be covered under eight feet of snow again in what seems like two weeks.
Something I’m really excited for this year is the fire pit I purchased at an auction this winter. It has been collecting dust in the shelter of my garage alongside a stack of wood my dad split for me, and I cannot wait to get a fire going and sit around it on one of the future 65-degree nights. It won’t be the same as being at my folks’ place by the lake, but I’ll be doing it up Fargo style – playing some country music in the background and waving at cars as they go by. This got me thinking of a fan favorite I wrote about two years ago. Why not repost it? Here goes, and here’s to temps in the pos!
You can tell a lot about a person by their marshmallow-roasting strategies. I believe there are two main kinds of marshmallow roasters. Group 1 claims their marshmallows taste better. Group 2 claims they can make well over ten marshmallows for every one that is cooked by a member of group 1. Each group believes their way is superior to the other.
You know the drill… If you’re really roughin’ it, the first step is finding the perfect branch to roast your snack on:
Members of group 1, the patient (wise) people, spend their time digging through the woods in effort to retrieve the perfect three-pronged branch. This could take anywhere from two to 18 minutes, depending on how devoted the person is. Once the branch is found, they carefully carve each tip to a sharp point for easy application of a marshmallow.
Members of group 2, the more practical, less patient people, snatch the first branch (dead or alive) that is easy to rip off a limb. No pocket knife needed… people from this group simply shove a few marshmallows over the bark of their branch.
Group 1 is careful to hold their marshmallows a good distance (12-16 feet) away from the fire to get golden brown, beautiful-looking marshmallows in an average of about 43 minutes.
Carefully avoiding ashes, group 2 pokes their marshmallows as close to the coals as they can until the marshmallow starts on fire. They proceed to rotate their marshmallows to ensure they are burned evenly, and then blow them out. Wait three seconds, and their fried-crispy snack is ready to enjoy… unless of course, you don’t like your marshmallows burned, in which case a membership with group 1 should be sought.
Group 1 has the privilege of being the main feature at every campfire. Kids flock to members of this group, requesting help with their s’mores. People admire how appetizing and picture-worthy their roasted delight appears. Group 2 members tend to be envious resulting in smart remarks about their timeliness (or lack thereof). Members of group 1 appear to be tidy, flawless, and picky.
Being a member of group 2 isn’t so bad. Who wants to help everyone else roast their marshmallows, anyway? You learn to truly enjoy the taste of the overcooked treat, and you pride yourself in being more efficient than group 1. Until you can convince group 1 members that you actually enjoy the taste of your campfire cooking, you may be viewed as a sloppy, careless cook, but keep in mind there are plenty of things to make fun of group 1 for. Members of group 2 appear to be swift, laidback, and hungry.
I should mention there is a third group in which members attempt to be associated with group 1. Their roasting goes well until they stop paying attention for a second too long or until their marshmallow falls into the fire. These in-betweeners have good intentions, high expectations, and bad luck.
Shootin’ the Wit is a column about everyday life that should never, ever be taken too seriously.