A Summer Campfire

A breezy summer night out in the beautiful National Parks, a perfect place to create some truly memorable moments.

The whole family, huddled around the campfire, layered in coats and sweaters as the night comes to a close. Quite the contrast to the regular Southern California heat.

The mountain breeze flows through the trees and around our guarded bodies. The glow and warmth of the fire attracts our gaze as we watch the flames dance in the midnight wind. We are silent, listening only to the soft crackle of the wood and the quiet song of the leaves above. Its calming, its tranquil.

Nights like these were how we recharged, got away from the bustling cities and the day to day life. A way for us to rethink and refocus our energy and ideas when we return to our regular lives in the forthcoming days. But these moments could not be completed without the addition to a staple treat of (almost) any camping trip: S'mores!

The perfect blend of soft and crunchy. A mix of the sweet taste of chocolate, the soft pillow of sugary marshmallow, and the toasty crunch of the beautifully golden graham cracker.

We would pull out the long metal skewers from the car and bring the ingredients around the fire. It was hard enough to stop our sugar happy selves from eating all of it before we even put them together. Somehow though, we would always manage to refrain from a little pre-s'more marshmallow (besides maybe one).

We had this metal table that you could take apart and store away quite small, perfect for a lil' camping getaway. So when we saw this flimsy table being decorated with sweet company of Hershey's Chocolate, Jet-Puffed Marshmallows and Honey Maid Graham Crackers; we knew it was going to be a good night.

But before we could enjoy the messy indulgence of the legendary s'more, we had to toast the marshmallows. As kids, we always wanted to do it ourselves, getting a little taste of the cooking life, the adult life. Although lets be honest, it was mostly so we could play with the fire.

Holding the stick out over the swaying glow of the flames, watching as the white outer layer darkened to a nice light brown. Then into a extra-toasty dark brown, knowingly full of a melted gooey inside: perfection. Taking it out from the fire swiftly yet carefully, we set the masterfully cooked mallow on the chocolate, housing them within the confines of the expertly snapped cracker. A small squeeze to melt the chocolate followed shortly by the biggest bite we could get. Crumbs flying from our mouths, strings of melted marshmallow forming as we pulled it away, pure bliss... except it never went like that.

We would get to that point of perfection, our parents telling us so. But we would keep it just a little longer, the ultimate toast was just around the corner! Except, that corner was the spot in which we just swiftly passed by. Within seconds from the words of warning, our toasty mallow looked quite similar to flames around it... its on fire... ITS ON FIRE! We quickly pulled it from the orange mass, sitting in shock as we watched our little Jet-Puff burn in a fiery blaze. Stunned by the fact this was happening. I mean, how could it catch fire if all we did was submerge it in the scorching heat for a minute straight... oh.

As we finally return to ourselves, we refocus on the fire... except... its gone. Our parents had blown it out after telling us to do so countless times, and now we're left holding a charred and deformed marshmallow. Mission failed, we'll get em next time. Except, there wasn't a next time, at least not on this trip.

Our dad would eat the burned mallow, extra crispy, just the way he liked it. Then, they would make the marshmallow for us to eat. Brought out at just the right time and topped over the piece of chocolate and closed by the second half of the golden cracker, followed by the biggest bite we could muster... pure bliss...