Posted on August 23rd, 2013
ey, where’d they all go?” Scott asked, mildly indignant.
The pan was clean unless you counted a stray crumb here and there which Scott obviously did not. He was only feigning surprise at the state of pan, though. There hadn’t been much left to speak of night before when the two of us had done our best to finish off the last of it.
There is an evil recipe for no-bake peanut butter rice krispie cookies in Lucinda Scala Quinn’s Mad Hungry, a go-to cookbook of ours that I’ve written about before. We’re not rice krispie people, though, and so any sort of treat-making endeavor involving the cereal has to be a deliberate one. I always secure a box of them knowing full well we’re probably never, ever going to look at them again once I’ve finished pouring four cups of them into bowl of sugar and (don’t judge!) corn syrup. But for $1.99 at Trader Joe’s, who cares?
“I hate rice krispie treats,” Peaches reminded me before I began making them.
I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but the rest of us should hardly have to suffer for her irrational hatred of an afterschool snack that doubles as an American institution so we didn’t.
Looking at the empty pan, I thought there was something true about Scott’s disbelief that our seemingly bottomless supply of dessert had been so utterly exhausted. There was so much on Monday. ‘That’s a lot of rice krispie treats!’ I thought. ‘We are going to be eating those forever!’ Like everything sweet for which you cannot quite imagine an end (you have your list no doubt; I certainly have mine) you find yourself at that very jumping-off point sooner rather than later.∗