The Silent Snackstress

While browsing vintage cookbooks on Ebay (trying to look-but-not-buy), I ran across one from the early 1930s titled, The Silent Hostess. Produced by General Electric, I expect that the "silent" to this book is the silence of G.E. appliances, and that it's not a treatise on why the woman throwing the party should keep quiet, but the title made me wonder what I might serve at a "silence" themed dinner party. I mean that the food would need to be silent, not the guests (or the host/ess). Nothing crunchy or crispy or that needs to be sawed into with knives and forks. Still, you'd want enough variation in flavor and texture that dinner guests don't feel like they're eating an institutional dinner for the infirm. And I'd hope everyone would wear muted colors and soft-soled shoes.

As a silent snack, the marshmallow is a revelation, if not particularly healthy. I like a jumbo Jet-Puffed with a smear of peanut butter on top. But if you're more of a jelly lover than a p.b. fan, why not go with these?



There's jelly in them thar marshmallows. Grape jelly.



I like that they're individually wrapped because it increases portability (and because of this they don't stick together in lumps or go stale like other bags of marshmallows can). They have a pleasant, powdery sweetness that soothes the palate and neither too much nor too little of the jelly filling. The marshmallows used in these treats might even taste better (leaving aside the probably artificial grapeness inside) than the plain, bagged variety available everywhere. I'd buy these unfilled, too, if that were an option, and put them in dark chocolate cocoa.

Want to go wild? PBJ marshmallow (one of these with a little peanut butter on top). Or two held together with peanut butter spread in between. Why not?!