Marshmallows revisited..

Gimauves à l'ancienne, Old-fashioned marshmallows

If there is one thing that I associate with the many campfires of my childhood, it is roasting marshmallows. My brother and I would search the surrounding woods for just the right stick, long enough to keep ourselves comfortably back from the flames, and straight enough to appeal to our need to have a more perfect stick than the other. If he happened to find a good one while I was still searching, it was not unusual for me to sulk.

I was a fussy child when it came to my marshmallows, I wanted the big ones and I wanted them to be white. When it came to roasting, I aimed for an even browning. This required a slow and steady rotation, with a certain level of concentration that I often lacked. If I became tired or distracted, it would, to my horror, erupt in flames. There was no hiding my disappointment, as I passed the rejected marshmallow to my brother, who would gobble it up eagerly. I would then have to thread a new one onto my stick and begin the process all over again. Inevitably, he would end up with twice as many in his belly by the end of the night as I did. More sulking would ensue.

It was a strange day indeed when I discovered "old-fashioned" marshmallows at La Grande Epicerie de Paris, a fantastic grocery store to which I have, by now, made many trips. Each time I go there are new discoveries to be made. Some of them thrill, while others bore. And some just refuse to stop nagging at my curiosity.

For weeks, I could not stop thinking about these marshmallows. At 7 euros for a bag of 20, I had, upon first seeing them, decided that I would never buy them. As much as their pretty pastel colours attracted my attention, I was not foolish enough to spend that kind of money on something so.. well, childish.. But each time I went to the store, those darn colours drew me in again. There I could be found, standing in front of the display, trying to convince myself that my disdain over the price was stronger than my desire to see what all the fuss was about. Each time, I would reach for the package, give it a slight squeeze, turn it over, until I would finally replace it to its spot on the shelf. I even emailed Tara to see what she thought of this strange new thing. How absurd! I wrote her. Who would you feed them to? Surely not your children at 7 euros a bag?

Still, I couldn't get them out of my head. I hadn't had a marshmallow in years, nor had I any cravings for marshmallows. So what was it?
I don't know.
But whatever it was, it was too powerful to resist.

One day I could fight it no longer. So, on my last trip, there I was at the checkout counter, with my fancy marshmallows in hand, wondering if the checkout man was going to laugh at me.
Ridiculous purchase? Maybe.
But I bet you're curious now too, aren't you?



Opening the bag was an exciting moment. Yes, I am easily amused. The fruity smell that drifted up to my nose told me we were off to a great start. I reached in and pulled them all out one by one, and admired their many colours. Each colour has its own flavour: lemon, mandarin, apricot, lime, orange flower, strawberry, raspberry, myrtle, coconut, vanilla and violet. Myrtle? I know, that's what I said too. (update: I have since discovered that myrtille, as it was listed on the label, means blueberry, not myrtle as I erroneously assumed. French is my second language after all.. )

The marshmallows are spongy, but with more fluff than the dense ones that I remember from my childhood. (Not to give the impression that I am a marshmallow connaisseur, if there is even such a thing). The outside texture is wrinkly, with a light dusting of cornflour on the outside, which gives a nice dry contrast to the moist sponge inside. The flavour is evident as soon as the marshmallow hits your tongue and intensifies once you bite into it, though the flavours are still subtle, and not overwhelming. I could feel the sugar dissolve on my tongue immediately, and it felt like some strange marshmallow/cotton candy hybrid. The coconut flavoured one is surprisingly at the top of my list so far. There are still about 15 more to go, but I will have to take it slow. I'm still getting over my chocolate overload from last week.

For such a seemingly frivolous purchase, I can finally conclude that I feel completely justified in this indulgence. Discovering a childhood food elevated to a new level, well, it's just cool. If only I had some licorice sticks, some cream soda, and a few of my favourite girl friends, I could have the best tea party ever.



L'Atelier des Douceurs
Le Pont-Quartier Tartary
07200 Aubenas

Available at La Grande Epicerie de Paris