i'd like s'more, please


In the midst of pumpkin bars, cinnamon spice, and apple crisp, a sandwich lurks. But not just any kind of sandwich -- one with graham crackers for bread; marshmallows and a slab of chocolate for filling. A s'more, they call it. And it's a delightful coda to an autumn day, the flavors, nutty and rich and mixed with a tinge of smoke, are thoughtfully calibrated. (though I must confess I reach my limit at two...too.much.sugar.)
S'mores speak of bonfires and glove-coated fingers. They whisper of steaming mugs of hot chocolate and apple cider, of laughter and hayrides. And with each crumbly, melted, gooey bite, it's like a memory in edible form.

S'mores -- love them or hate them? Marshmallows golden brown or blackened? Do tell!


ps my sweet friend abby drew me...is she not amazing?