I spent many childhood years as a Girl Scout. And on every camping trip, hike, or picnic, here’s what would happen:
The posse of laughing, shrieking girls clusters around the campfire, grilling up our dinners. Suddenly, someone’s burger or hot dog tumbles into the flames.
Amid instantaneous tears and shrieks of “My food is on fire!,” the quick-thinking Scout leader grabs for the tongs and tries to rescue the flaming fragments, their sad blackened remains plopped unceremoniously onto a paper plate, to be slathered with ketchup and eaten anyway, since out here in the woods, “Girls, this is dinner. We can’t just go to Pizza Hut.”
Why did we keep coming back, we Girl Scouts, despite the burned-up burgers, the rain that soaked into our sleeping bags, and the mosquitoes that perpetually homed in on that one bit of exposed skin?
Why? Because no matter how many charred hamburgers we endured, there were always s’mores for dessert.
In case you grew up in a part of the planet that’s bereft of s’mores, they’re a confection that consists of marshmallows toasted on a stick over an open fire, then sandwiched between two graham crackers with a square of milk chocolate. The chocolate melts into the hot marshmallow, and the whole gooey mess squeezes out of the grahams all over your face and your fingers. Kid heaven.
But now you don’t have to be a Girl Scout, or endure the waterlogged sleeping bags, blackened burgers, or ankle-to-thigh mosquito bites to get the s’more experience.
All you have to do is get yourself to the Arizona Biltmore hotel in Phoenix, where Frank & Albert’s Restaurant is serving do-it-yourself s’mores.
Your server brings you a cute little tabletop grill, a pile of marshmallows, and a stack of bamboo skewers. You spear your marshmallow and ever so gently toast it over the flames until it’s a uniform golden brown.
Then you take your graham crackers and the requisite square of Hershey’s chocolate and sandwich the whole thing together. No tears, no shrieks, no dripping marshmallows dive-bombing into the campfire.
Just the perfect taste memory of gooey, toasted marshmallows, beginning-to-melt chocolate, and crunchy grahams.
And if $14 seems a wee bit rich for the privilege of grilling your own marshmallow over a tabletop flame, well, fine. Go drop your burger in the fire.
There will be more s’mores for me. 
If you’d like to share a photo or post about your own favorite food experiences, please do! Here’s all you need to do to join the WanderFood Wednesday blog carnival:
- Post a food photo on your site.
- Add a brief description about the photo—or a longer food-focused post—and include a link to WanderFood Wednesday.
- Add your blog name and post title to the “Mr. Linky” form below, with a link directly to your post (not to your main blog). That’s it!
If you go:
Frank & Albert’s Restaurant is at the Arizona Biltmore Hotel, 2400 E. Missouri Avenue, Phoenix, 602-381-7632.
Tasty Travels!
Carolyn
Photo credits:
Child with S’more photo by kreyten (flickr)
Frank & Albert’s and Tableside S’More photos © Carolyn B. Heller
