Complex Numbers

S'more and more

Confession: I have never had an actual s'more.

A brief history of the s'more, America’s favorite campfire snack  

The reason why should be obvious from the headline: an actual s'more requires a campfire, which would imply that I'm camping. Which in turn would imply that I'm *shudder* outside.

Well, okay, fine. I have gone camping. That's how I know I hate it. And sometimes, someone actually brought marshmallows. But never the particular combination of marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers with which to form s'mores.

But of course I've consumed that combination on other occasions, sometimes even heated.

This summer, millions of marshmallows will be toasted over fires across America. Many will be used as an ingredient in the quintessential summer snack: the s’more.

This article, of course, is from back when summer was fresh and new, full of promise and the possibility of redemption. That is to say, the beginning of summer in 2018, in the Before Time.

Eating gooey marshmallows and warm chocolate sandwiched between two graham crackers may feel like a primeval tradition.

Unless you actually think about it. Or read this article.

But every part of the process – including the coat hanger we unbend to use as a roasting spit – is a product of the Industrial Revolution.

How long before we make coat hangers illegal?

The oldest ingredient in the s'more’s holy trinity is the marshmallow, a sweet that gets its name from a plant called, appropriately enough, the marsh mallow.

Yeah, not really. As the article goes on to point out:

Today the marshmallow on your s’more contains no marsh mallow sap at all. It’s mostly corn syrup, cornstarch and gelatin.

Another vegetarian trap.

Chocolate is another ancient food. Mesoamericans have been eating or drinking it for 3,000 years.

Yes, from an entirely different continent than the marsh mallow. Which supports once again my claim that international food trade is one of the few actual benefits of endgame capitalism.

Also, what the ancients called "chocolate" (or xocolatl or whatever) bears about as much resemblance to a plastic Hershey's bar (from what I understand, that's the preferred ingredient in a s'more) as the marshmallow does to the marsh mallow.

The chocolate that the Mesoamericans ate was dark, grainy and tended to be somewhat bitter.

Much like me after my divorce.

Finally, the graham cracker was invented by the Presbyterian minister Sylvester Graham, who felt that a vegetarian diet would help suppress carnal urges, especially the scourge of “self-pollution” (read: masturbation).

I have it on good authority that it does no such thing, unless you simply clutch a vegetable or a graham cracker in each hand at all times.

The original graham cracker used unsifted whole-wheat flour. Graham felt that separating out the bran was against the wishes of God, who, according to Graham, must have had a reason for including bran.

Thus proving once more that you can be right for the wrong reasons.

As for how the graham cracker became a part of the s'more, the snack’s true origin remains unclear.

Probably some marketing guru was like, "Hey, here are three things that are approximately 97% sugar. Let's combine them!"

The first mention of this treat is in a 1927 edition of the Girl Scout manual “Tramping and Trailing with the Girl Scouts.” In a nod to the treat’s addictive qualities, it was dubbed “Some More.”

I don't think the GSA could get away with issuing a manual that includes the verb "tramping" these days.

The term s'more is first found the 1938 guide “Recreational Programs for Summer Camps,” by William Henry Gibson. Some think the s'more may be a homemade version of the Mallomar or the moon pie, two snacks introduced in the 1910s.

That would support my "marketing guru" theory.

Today, the s'more has become so popular that it’s inspired a range of spin-offs. You can eat a s'mores-flavored Pop Tart for breakfast...

Those are actually not bad, but my days of eating sugar bombs for breakfast every day are long behind me.

...munch on a s'mores candy bar for dessert...

One of these days, someone will explain to my satisfaction why it's socially acceptable to eat donuts for breakfast, but not cake. Or vice-versa.

...and even unwind after a long day at work with a s'mores martini.

Oh, hell to the power of no squared.

Okay, no, it's not that I wouldn't drink it. It's just that I'm an absolute purist when it comes to the word "martini." If it's not gin and vermouth with an olive, it's not a martini. I can accept vodka in place of gin, but then it's a vodka martini. I can even accept different garnishes (though some kind of garnish is essential). But in no sane universe does a sweet drink get to be called a "martini," regardless of the shape of the glass it's served in.

As I often tell my students, the health-conscious Sylvester Graham is probably rolling over in his grave after what became of his beloved cracker.

Only if they eat s'mores while masturbating.