Alright, I’m a day late here. A day and a half, really, since I usually post at lunchtime. The G man and I are just back (aout two hours ago) from the Wickerman Festival, and I was in an absolute guddle before we left, with one thing and another, and never did get round to scheduling this post.
It’s a true snapshots post, with very few words – another lesson from the G man, much like our Caesar Masterclass a couple of weeks ago. This time we’ll look at how we made s’mores over an open fire and realised how difficult it is to get a melted marshmallow off a bamboo skewer without getting it in your own (and everyone else’s) hair. Does anyone have any tips on that?
Also, the marshmallow in these photos is pretty pale – we were a bit worried about melting it right off the skewer and into the fire, but we did make them progressively toastier and more delicious as we went along.
The marshmallow/hair situation didn’t improve, though.
Here’s something nobody tells you: raccoons love s’mores. As soon as we started making them, this big bruiser of a raccoon came sauntering up. And at first I was like ‘look at his wee faaaaaaaaaace!’ and then, quite quickly, that became ‘I am quite frightened of this raccoon he looks like he could take me in a fight’.
I only have these blurry photos, which I am sad about – it was low light and I might have been half way up a tree to get away from the wild (possibly rabid) animal.
If nothing else, if I’d had to go to the hospital because I’d been bitten by a raccoon I’d have been so embarrassed. They’d have thought I was such a *tourist* and they would not have believed that he was drawn by the s’mores and that we weren’t feeding him on purpose (which we weren’t, we only do that here in Scotland with the squirrels, which I know is quite bad enough but at least they won’t give you rabies maybes [HA! I just made myself laugh. Rabies maybes.]).
I think he’s doing some kind of dance move in that second one. Perhaps he thought we’d throw him a treat if he performed.
No way, dude. Those marshmallows were all ours.