Chewy, Gooey, Sweet & Sticky S'more Cookie Bars . . .

 

Buzz Lightyear:  " . . . in just a few hours you'll be sitting around a campfire with Andy making nice hot shmoes." 
Woody:  "They're called s'mores, Buzz."     
  -- Toy Story

So, now that it's winding down, let's do a little recap of our summer, shall we? Have a seat and we'll begin.
 
Did you go to the beach? Yes? Okay, good, check that one off.
Did you watch fireworks for the Fourth of July? Great, check that one too.
Did you eat watermelon outside and spit out the seeds? Check.
Did you pick fresh fruit or veggies at a farm, or from a garden? Check.
Did you take a lot of nice walks? Check.
Did you read at least a couple frivolous and/or trashy novels? Check. Check. Check.
Did you take about a zillion photos of your family and/or kids frolicking in the sun? Check.
Did you assemble and  enjoy your fair share of nice hot shmoes this summer?  . . . What?! You didn't??

Well, don't despair--all is not lost. The fact is, you don't need a campfire or a flaming grill to achieve a reasonable facsimile of the s'mores experience, and you don't even need summertime, truth be told. You can get that ooey, gooey, sticky, chewy vibe any time of year with cookie bars like these. All the requisite ingredients are in there to help replicate the total s'mores taste experience--milk chocolate Hershey bars, graham cracker crumbs, and marshmallow creme.

Just close your eyes as you bite into one of these bars and you'll see what I mean. Wiggle your toes in the imaginary sand while you're munching and listen to the gentle waves lapping the pretend shore . . . just ignore those nonexistent kids who keep whining over there by the invisible picnic table. (Ahh, yes . . .  isn't creative visualization fun?) While it's true s'mores are a critical component of a well rounded summer, it's comforting to know that they can be enjoyed--albeit in a slightly altered incarnation--all year long.

About this recipe . . . 

Of course, if s'mores were never really your thing, you might want to fiddle around with this recipe and do some tweaking. I love s'mores, but I fiddled just a little bit anyway. My main tweak involved the addition of a small amount of coarsely chopped honey-roasted peanuts, and a reduction in the amount of marshmallow creme. But, tweaked or untweaked, these are pretty darn good. Were I to make them again, I think I might ponder using dark chocolate instead of milk chocolate to dial down the sweetness factor just a smidgen.

This quick recipe came from the latest issue (September 2010) of Disney Family Fun magazine. Though my kids are not so young anymore, whenever I happen to get my hands on a copy of this, I still flip through it prowling for ideas, and I always look for the recipes. I liked the looks of these bars right away. S'more cookie bars aren't an original concept by any means, but not all formulas are created equal and this was the first one I've seen that I was motivated to make.

I decided to double the recipe and, as I mentioned above, I added in chopped honey-roasted peanuts, sprinkling them over the chocolate layer (just a half cup). I also halved the amount of marshmallow creme indicated, but if you're a maniacal marshmallow lover, go to town and double what I've written in the recipe below; your bars will be insanely gooey, in a good way. I increased the amount of salt slightly (I used kosher salt). I used a 9" x 13" pan, which probably made the bars a little thicker than the original recipe. My batter was too soft to handle in the way that the original recipe indicated (it was a hot day and the butter I used was awfully soft), so I had to adjust accordingly. As usual, I reworded most of the directions.

All in all, these babies were a hit in my house. And, unlike genuine "nice hot shmoes," these can travel quite safely in a lunchbox. (As Buzz Lightyear would say, "To infinity, and beyond!")


S'more Cookie Bars

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup unsalted butter, softened (2 sticks)
1 egg, large
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 and 1/2 cups crushed graham crackers (I used plain honey grahams)
1 and 1/2 cups All-Purpose flour (I used unbleached)
3/4 tsp. salt (I recommend kosher)
2 tsp. baking powder
6 - 1.55 oz. Hershey milk chocolate bars (this is six standard size bars)
1 (7 oz.) jar of marshmallow creme (I used Kraft Jet-Puffed Marshmallow Creme, what I had on hand)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease the bottom and sides of a 9" x 13" baking pan.

In a large mixer bowl, using the paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar together until fluffy. Add in the egg and vanilla extract, and beat to combine.

In a separate bowl, mix together the graham cracker crumbs, flour, baking powder, and salt. Pour all of this into the butter mixture and beat until well mixed.

Spread two-thirds of the batter into the bottom of the pan. If the batter is quite soft, wet your hands with cold water, shake off the excess water, and pat the batter into place. Over this layer, break up the chocolate bars into small pieces and scatter them evenly. Sprinkle the nuts evenly over the chocolate. Spread all of the marshmallow creme on top of this, again using wet hands to urge the creme into place as best you can. (Overall, this will be a messy procedure, but don't worry about it. It doesn't have to look neat.) Spoon dabs of the remaining batter over the top, and spread them out as best you can to cover as much of the marshmallow as possible. Don't worry about gaps.

Bake for about 30 minutes, until golden brown and the sides of the bars start to pull away from the pan. Let the bars cool in the pan, on a rack, for at least 20 minutes before you attempt to cut into them.

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Summer Food and Fun in Northern Michigan . . .

Last week, when my family was in Northern Michigan on vacation, I found copious opportunities to take pictures. Folks, Michigan is chock full of interesting things to photograph. Many of them edible.

Before we get to the food, please let me get on my tiny soapbox for just a moment, okay? I will come clean right here, right now, and confess to you that I love it here. Besides being the most adorably shaped state in the U.S. (let's face it--no other state comes close in this regard; I mean, we're shaped like a big, cozy, rounded mitten for heaven's sake), it's abundant in lakes and forest. We experience four dramatically different seasons in the most classic way imaginable. Personally, I think the bio-rhythms of longtime Michiganders are based, somehow, on the distinct character of each of our seasons--no kidding. And did you know that there are still areas of Michigan that are like something out of a storybook? It's quite true. Never been here? Well, you might want to consider a jaunt "up north" sometime to check us out. The state's gotten such a horrible rap in the media this past year or two, I feel compelled to say that the American tragedy-loving news machine doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of all the good stuff that comprises Michigan.

Okay. I'm done. Stepping off the soapbox now.

Among the many pleasures of even a short, relatively local vacation are some of the foods enjoyed, don't you think? I wanted to share a few photos I took on that trip, along with a non-baking related "semi-recipe" that comes care of my husband (he grills, oh yeah). Some of the pics are of delicious things to eat. Others are just simple, fun, or placid images (hey, placid is good) that drew me in, camera in hand.

You know how some of the most legendary local places, that have existed seemingly for centuries, manage to survive even well off the beaten track? Well, pictured below is Iva's Chicken Dinners, in a town called Sterling. Iva's, open since the 1930s, is just like that. Since I've been married (it'll be 18 years on July 20th), I've heard my in-laws and husband repeatedly mention this "old restaurant in a house, that serves these great chicken dinners." Finally, on July 3rd, I got to see for myself. About time.

We stopped there on the way to Torch Lake, our destination, to eat dinner. I'm glad we did. A kitschy time capsule, in the most genuine and honest way, Iva's looks as if it was placed in a deep freezer in, say, 1957, and they defrosted it just last week. The interior is vintage from top to bottom (sadly, my few photos of the interior were badly out of focus, thus not included here). The furniture alone would sell like hotcakes on ebay, and probably show up in an article in Martha Stewart Living the next month! They serve you coffee in those little old glass containers with the black collar and cap; brings back memories of my high school job as a waitress--we used those for serving tea water. The food at Iva's can be aptly described as homey, bland, comforting, and satisfying in a safe sort of way. (One thing they didn't put in the deep freeze was the pricing--that's strictly up to date, unfortunately.) Utterly comfortable in its own skin, Iva's Chicken Dinners is worth a visit for the retro decor alone--even if fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, green peas, and fresh biscuits isn't necessarily your idea of a dining experience.


Michigan is . . . uh . . . one of the chubbiest states in the country--one of our less glorious claims to fame. So, it comes as no surprise that the entire lower peninsula is virtually peppered with ice cream stands and frozen custard shops. The one you see below is buried in the back of Higgins Store, a small market in a tiny town called Alden, near my husband's family's Torch Lake cottage.

It's curiously sequestered behind everything else that Higgins sells, in a separate and, well, rather dark room. I guess ice cream addicts appreciate the privacy. Though Michiganders will willingly come out in the light of day to do an ice cream deal--we're that hardcore--we appreciate the discretion showed by Higgins. My younger son who, as you may know, enjoys concealing his identity, is one such customer. "Mint chocolate chip, please. Single dip, in a large sugar cone. No sprinkles."

Also in Alden is the Muffin Tin, a tiny joint specializing in--you guessed it. Below is a nice cherry pecan muffin I tried. Not bad at all. Little groups of ladies meet there to knit or to conduct civic business while they indulge, as do happily solitary males who sit nearby, peering intently at their laptop screens as they contentedly munch on the crusty, oat-topped muffins. (Not all of Northern Michigan is wired yet. Folks with more modern inclinations have to make do wherever they can, you know. The Muffin Tin is a charming place to "make do.")

The little number you see below, dished up on Dixie's finest, was produced compliments of my husband, who we'll call Andy (because that's his name). He's the griller for our little brood, and he's damn good at it too. The stuffed pork tenderloin was a rip roaring success. Here's the "semi-recipe" I mentioned above. I have no exact proportions listed, so just wing it if you give this one a whirl. It was delicious. I loved it.


Stuffed Grilled Pork Tenderloin a la Andy

One pork tenderloin, decent sized
A few sweet baby peppers, yellow and red
Kalamata olives, plenty of them, pitted and chopped
sun dried tomatoes, can be cut into pieces (not too many; the taste is pretty strong)
garlic, lots of it, minced
fresh dill, lots of it, coarsely chopped
fresh mozarella, an amount about the size of a tennis ball is more than enough, sliced
kosher salt
fresh ground pepper
olive oil

Butterfly the pork tenderloin. Pound the meat thinner than it is. (How thin? Just not too thin.)
Spread the meat out, and cover it with a few slices of the prosciutto, in a single layer. Layer on top of that pieces of the sliced sweet peppers, then the slices of the mozarella, then the sun-dried tomatoes, then the chopped olives. Sprinkle on most of the garlic and dill. Using butcher's string (or any kind of cotton string you can safely put on food that is going to be put on a grill), and probably with someone helping you to hold the whole kit 'n' kaboodle together (or, if you like spewing a lot of profanity you can try doing it by yourself), tie the meat up into a secure tight bundle. You may need to place at least five knotted pieces of string on it to keep it all secure. Rub olive oil on the outside of the bundle. Stuff the remaining garlic and dill into the openings, and rub it on the outside of the bundle. Sprinkle liberally with kosher salt and pepper.

Put that baby on a heated grill and turn it carefully now and then. Grill it until the internal temperature is about 160. Remove the string before serving it.

Brace yourself for rave reviews.

* * * *
Okay, so now it's dusk and somebody (Uncle Ben or Uncle Keith?) made a nice fire outside on the beach. Is it time yet to make the S'mores? Oh good. Because you have to have them when you're up north. Wouldn't be a vacation without them. Try to get fresh graham crackers and marshmallows. They're going to be high quality S'mores if you're not using stale goods. And don't forget those thin milk chocolate Hershey bars. Make sure your marshmallows get pretty toasty on the outside and melty on the inside before you embark on the assembly. Critical to have completely heated marshmallows, agree? Apply your chocolate pieces to your crackers, slip the 'mallows on there, and squish it all together gently. Mmmmmmm . . . it's really summer now.


Plenty of nice flora around. Nice fauna too, but the fauna tends to move too fast for my current photographic skills.

Last word: Michigan is worth loving. And as for Detroit, well, Detroit is hard to love but it really just needs love. My mom used to say, "It's when a child is acting the least lovable that she/he needs the most love." I figure Detroit's like that.