This year, as many of my fellow East Coasters may know, the Mallomar celebrated its hundredth anniversary of being the beacon of hope introducing autumn to the Tri-State area. As a native New Jerseyan/New Yorker, the sight of a box of Mallomars tucked safely inside the pantry was a better telltale sign of the change of seasons than a multitude of red and orange leaves splattered all over the lawn. Yet when I went to college and met people ranging from Rochester, New York to Los Angeles, California, I was shocked to learn that many of my new friends had been truly unfortunate in that they had never once before savored the taste of chocolate and marshmallow-y paradise on their lips, let alone even heard of Mallomars. And so I saw it as my duty to shove Mallomars in the faces of my peers, encouraging them to partake in the goodness and richness enjoyed by people of my caliber. If you are reading this from the Midwest or the South or the West Coast, I shall try my best to help you appreciate the Mallomar without ever having tried one.
By the simplest, most basic definition Mallomars are cookies, but if you’ve ever had one, you know that they are much more complex and magical than that. Mallomars start with a thin layer of graham crackers topped by a bed of fluffy, delightful marshmallow. These two layers are coated in a decadent chocolate shell, making the aforementioned “cookies” a perfectly epic explosion of textures and flavors. They are glorified s’mores without the overly burned marshmallow that tastes like charred wood or the ensuing beard of molten chocolate. I’m not trying to knock s’mores, I’d just like to offer an alternative if you’re lacking a campfire or summer night spirits. They are super addicting, but this can hardly be considered a con, because when that velvety combination melts beneath your teeth during the very first bite, it’s impossible to resist devouring the entire sleeve.
So Happy 100th Birthday, Mallomars. Thank you for being there for me during countless afternoons of delicious after school snacks from the days of my youth. Thank you for being a delicacy close to both my home and my college so that I may never have to last a fall season without you. Thank you for not having peanuts or tree-nuts, because I am horribly allergic. I wish you a thousand more years of presence and popularity on Earth, and I hope you never have a Hostess style financial breakdown so that we may continue to enjoy you for generations to come.