My wife recently purchased a taste of my past that used to be a staple in Mom’s pantry. The humble Graham cracker. She was using them as a crust for a dessert she was making, but that wasn’t why Mom bought them.
When I was little–say between 3 and 7–Mom called them “cookies,” no doubt trying to fool me into thinking that a Graham cracker, although slightly sweet, was on the same level as a chocolate chip cookie. They aren’t, and, given all the baking she did at Christmas, it didn’t take me long to figure out her game. Flag on the play: two-cookie penalty on Betty Maine.
Graham crackers are in the limbo land of snacks. Technically, they are a cracker, but in my thinking, crackers are savory. Think Saltines like they used to serve us at Cracker and Juice time at the First Presbyterian preschool. Not snack time. Cracker and Juice time. We (the boys) would break our Saltines on the perforation and make a tent. Food is much more fun when it doubles as a toy. Then there is the hallmark of crackerdom: Ritz. Many a Sunday evening Dad and I would make quick work of a sleeve of Ritz slathering on mayo and a slice of whatever leftover meat from Sunday lunch. Then pressing another cracker on top so that the mayo would come out of the little holes that, along with the ridges on the edge, seem to make Ritz crackers taste so good.
And Graham crackers aren’t all that sweet, so they don’t fall completely into the cookie category. The lone exception to that would be the cinnamon-sugar Grahams. We had those only on special occasions.
Even after the myth of Grahams being cookies was busted, they still showed up in Betty Maine’s pantry and Billy’s lunchbox. Graham crackers with peanut butter were a favorite snack in the box and brown-bag days. Sometimes, it was peanut butter and honey—a tasty, but sticky, mess on a hot day.
Graham crackers were first produced by Sylvester Graham in the 1800s. Graham believed in keeping pleasurable experiences to a minimum. That’s why he created his crackers out of coarsely ground unsifted and unrefined flour and no sugar. That’s also why he was not invited to parties or had a shot at becoming homecoming king. If he saw what the crispy nibble that still bears his name has become, his head would spin. Especially if he went camping.
S’mores were a game-changer for me. We were a camping family and spent many an hour around the fire ring. Dad would find a couple of long sticks and whittle the ends to a point. Then on went the marshmallows.
"Flaming or non-flaming?"
"Non-flaming for one please."
Mom would prep the chocolate and the Grahams. She knew if we kids handled the chocolate, it would never make it to the Graham or to anyone else around the fire. It was always Hershey’s chocolate and Jet Puffed marshmallows. We were purists. If you need a tutorial on how to make a S’more, I gladly refer you to the movie “The Sandlot.”
“You’re killing me, Smalls.”
For those who don’t have the option of a campfire or pointy sticks whittled by your dad, there are plenty of S’mores dessert recipes. These usually involve Graham cracker crumbs, melted chocolate, melted butter, and marshmallows in a baking dish. Tasty, gooey and sweet enough to require an EpiPen of insulin. I’ll admit they are good. However, it isn’t the same without the flame. That little bit of char on the marshmallow and the smell of smoke make S’mores more than a dessert—they’re the glue that binds memories to your brain.
Graham crackers were first mass produced in 1898. If you watch a lot of cooking shows, you’ll think they’re only used for cheesecake crusts and other desserts. But I’m sure moms still buy them for their little ones. They’re easy to crunch even with few or no teeth making them great for teething and producing drool-and-crumb-covered chins and messy fingers.
I was able to snag a few crackers out of the box before the remainder became dust for crust. I broke the Graham along the perforations and took my time with the four pieces. While I do love my homemade cookies, there is just something special about that simple treat.
I suppose it’s the taste of a great childhood.
