Day of the Dead (Dia De La Cruz) in Mezcala, Mexico taken in 2003 -- the impetus for my contiuning multi-generational on indigenous cultures. As you can see by my advanced size it was a period in time that I got carried away by eating too many marshmallows.

The Case for Mexican Marshallows

A day before my big yearly event, Marshmallows and Music, promoted as an old fashioned marshmallow roast and gallery opening I ran into a glitch. My friend said to me, “Janice, you must have American marshmallows, those Mexican ones won’t get soft roasted on the bonfire. They just won’t do. ”

“Good, grief,” I cried.” I can’t go all the way to Guadalajara at this late date!” Well, I didn’t have to. To my relief they had them at good old Super Lake, in the pudding department, right next to the pink and white Mexican “Maravillosos.” I bought 6 bags of Kraft America’s Favorite jet puffed marshmallows at 55 pesos a bag and also threw in 3 bags of Maravillosos {Mexican Marshmallows} into my cart at 100 pesos a bag, just in case I ran out.

“Are we going to have S’Mores? “ I have such wonderful memories of eating S’Mores before a bonfire.” Jill pleaded. “Me too” her friend replied”. I would give anything to make a S’More just one more time.” At the last minute I went back to Super Lake and found giant Hershey bars in the candy department. I bought a gross, the graham crackers were generic and sprinkled with cinnamon, but I knew they would do. 480 pesos later I returned back to our Live/Work gallery, broke.

I hired Lola from next door to be in charge of the bonfire in the street so I could greet guests in the Gallery. I asked her in and gave her a S’More making demonstration before the gas burner at the kitchen stove. She smacked their lips in approval on tasting the samples, so I offered her some more. In my very best Spanish I explained that the Maravillosos were for back up only. She listened intently and told me I could trust her to be completely in charge.

Later, as I was hosting the party inside the gallery I heard Max Bird Shriek. As I ran outside I saw Jill flyer throw her S’More in the garbage. Walking over to the bonfire to investigate I became aware that Lola had been making these from the back up Mexican marshmallows that had no squash. I saw an obliging guest attempting to take a bite whose mouth simply could not navigate the thick sandwich concoction. Rushing over to the bonfire, much to Lola’s dismay, I removed the remaining bags of Maravillosos. I replaced them with those from the United States that were jet puffed. I wondered why they did not make jet puffed ones in Mexico.

In defense of Mexican marshmallows, I can say that they lack a lot of downsides. Later in the evening, with the guests all back home, the neighborhood children gathered at the fire. They delighted in the way the American “mallows” went up in flame and waved them in the air like sparklers. Lola’s granddaughter scorched her fingertips as she pulled a burning mallow off her stick removing only the burnt outer layer. Another child grabber it from her and stuck what was left on the stick back into the fire and burnt his tongue licking it off. There was also a little girl that had a glob stuck in her pony tail.

The following morning, unpacking the leftovers, I found a bag of jet puffed marshmallows in the bottom of the box. They were squashed and melted together. The Maravillosos packed next to it looked exactly as they had when I bought them. After removing charred marshmallows from the soles of my shoes and cleaning up the mess they made tracked unnoticed across the gallery floors, I went over to pay Lola. She was apologetic about the S’Mores mix up. “If you had to choose between a jet puffed and a Mexican marshmallow, what would you choose?” I asked her. “We do not like American mallows here in Mexico,” she replied.