What is it about Marshmallows?
PERSONAL JOURNALGASTRONOMY
8/14/20262 min read
About Marshmallows
After finishing my latest post, I realised something. Of the four blog posts, I've mentioned marshmallows twice already. Ironically, marshmallows aren't even my favorite sweet. Yet somehow I've written about them as if they've played a major role in my life. Maybe they have.
They're pillowy, chewy little clouds of sugar and gelatin. Sweet, yes, but I rarely eat them on their own. They belong somewhere. On top of a hot chocolate, for example. Two medium-sized marshmallows, please. Not the giant XL ones, and definitely not the tiny mini ones. No, no.
As I very specifically wrote in my last post, it has to be one white and one pink. Unless it's a particularly bad day or an exceptionally cold one, then I'll have three: two pink and one white. Thank you very much. I also love having a single pink marshmallow with my flat white, as I mentioned in my very first post.
And then there are s'mores. Marshmallows toasted over a fire until the outside is beautifully charred and the inside melts into oblivion, sandwiched between graham crackers and dark chocolate.
The Rebellion
Ok, perhaps I like marshmallows more than I've been willing to admit. When you describe them on paper—egg whites, sugar, gelatin—they don't sound particularly magical. But place one on a steaming mug, watch it slowly soften into the drink, or toast one over a fire on a cold evening, and suddenly it becomes something else entirely.
I think that's why marshmallows keep appearing in my stories. They add a little bit of playfulness to otherwise very serious drinks. A flat white, after all, is a respectable beverage. It's what a Type A university student orders before her 8 a.m. lecture. A pink marshmallow floating beside it? Now that's a tiny act of rebellion.
I still remember the cheeky smile from the barista every time I asked if I could have a little cadeau—a pink marshmallow with my coffee. At first, he smiled because it was an unusual request. Eventually, he smiled because he already knew. The marshmallow had quietly become part of my order, without either of us ever talking about it.
It's NOT about Marshmallows
Funny how these little rituals sneak into our lives. You might think marshmallows are frivolous. They're only sugar, after all. But I don't think they're about sugar. They're about allowing myself to remain a little playful. They're a reminder that growing up doesn't have to mean growing serious all the time. That adulthood can still leave room for little rituals that make absolutely no sense to anyone else.
A pink marshmallow with a flat white.
Two marshmallows in hot chocolate.
Three if the day has been particularly difficult.
These things don't solve anything.
But somehow, they make the day just a little softer.
People tell me the pink marshmallow doesn't taste any different from the white one. "They're exactly the same," they insist. I always disagree.
No.
The pink one tastes happier.
Period.
