I know about marshmallows. I'm not particularly fond of them in their room temperature state. S'mores don't do much for me either. I just think you can't improve on either Hershey's chocolate, or a perfectly roasted marshmallow. Don't bother detracting from perfection with a lowly graham cracker.
They have to be roasted very slowly. Then the outside is quite brown, not burned. You can pull off the entire brown crust, crispy outside, sticky inside, dee-wish-us, except when you can't. And you can't. I think it's been about two years since I've had a good roasted marshmallow. What happened? What is that alien marshmallow form in familiar Kraft bag? And why do I keep trying?
Not only are they alien, they are dangerous. I wasn't even close to flame when the stupid thing spontaneously combusted. As is my usual wont, I brought it to my lips to blow out, then pass onto Handy Man, who eats such things. Except, it isn't really a marshmallow, so I didn't get it that far before one jumped off the stick onto my ankle and the other my wrist, which now sport blisters for all my trouble. Fuss and bother.
So, I guess marshmallows have gone the way of Wink, perfect french fries, and other foods I've long had a fondness for. Boo, Hoo!