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An objective review of Mallomars and other seasonal items
For those of you who have been following last week’s Mallomar saga, I would like to report that two days after I posted about my fixation on getting my hands on some Mallomars, a box arrived on our doorstep. The box was from my cousin Masha, who lives in NYC, where they have everything.
Inside, next to a bag of literary tea, sat a package of Mallomars and you better believe I tore into the package like a feral raccoon. At last! The legendary cookie, which consists of a marshmallow perched on a graham cracker and covered in dark chocolate was in my hands. I took a bite. It was…
[drum roll]
Meh. Or mid, as the young people say.
This is what happens when you build something up in your head. I wanted to try Mallomars because Lorelei Gilmore on Gilmore Girls liked Mallomars and I went to five different stores to find them, coming out empty handed every time. The more I couldn’t have them, the more I wanted them. I built them up to such an extent that I would have been disappointed by anything short of nectar and ambrosia, and let me tell you, these were not nectar and ambrosia, not even close.
No offense to those of you who love them, but Mallomars are objectively mid. The dark chocolate coating is too thin and too sweet. The marshmallow is flimsy but also, somehow, waxy. The graham cracker doesn’t taste like anything and has the texture of damp cardboard. There’s no crunch, no contrasting texture—just a cloyingly sweet, fluffy letdown, a mass-produced, shelf-stable cookie. What made it enticing was that I couldn’t have it. And once I could have it?
[sad trombone]
This should have been the anticlimactic end of my quest for Mallomars, except that our friend Jarvis happened to be visiting when the package from Masha arrived. Jarvis grew up in California’s Central Valley and has also never had a Mallomar because Nabisco hates us here in California. His opinion? He’d have to eat about 20 of them to feel satisfied.
But, unlike me, Jarvis is not a hater. Jarvis is all about solutions and alternatives. He said that the Mallomars were a prime example of a good idea poorly executed and that what they really wanted to be was a dark chocolate scotchmallow from See’s Candies. I love this idea: something delicious inside something mediocre wanting to get out. I also love See’s Candies scotchmallows.
See’s Candies, for those of you not in the know, is a Northern California based candy company that uses quality ingredients (ARE YOU LISTENING, NABISCO??) to make quality candy. If you’ve never had a box of their nuts and chews, I suggest remedying that at your earliest convenience. The dark chocolate scotchmallow to which Jarvis was referring is equal parts rich, pliant caramel and a firm but yielding marshmallow drenched in a thick, glossy layer of dark chocolate.
The day after Jarvis’ visit, I had coffee with my friend Raja, who had been following the Mallomar saga, and she asked if I had managed to find some and I told her that my awesome cousin Masha sent me some but that they were an big fat fluffy disappointment. I also added that our friend Jarvis said that they were basically an inferior version of See’s scotchmallows and we briefly discussed going on a field trip to See’s Candies to test out Jarvis’ hypothesis but then we got distracted by other important topics like good kinds of lip balm and why is everything so annoying.
The following night, there was a knock on our front door. It was Raja, who was holding a small gift-wrapped box with a See’s Candies sticker and a card that read “2025 was full of terrible things and we must eat all the good food.” And inside the box…
[trumpet flourish]
A recap: on December 13, I wrote about not being able find Mallomars. Almost immediately, a bunch of people on Substack volunteered to send them to me or to scout their grocery shelves on my behalf. On December 17, I had a package of Mallomars in my hands and David, Jarvis, and I were standing in our kitchen discussing the merits of mass produced cookies vs. more highfalutin sweets and the vagaries of supply and demand. On December 20—the fifth night of Hanukkah—Raja showed up at our door with a dozen scotchmallows. This happened to be four days before Christmas, which neither of us celebrate because I’m Jewish and she’s Muslim.
Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. Sometimes a cookie is just a cookie. Sometimes you start writing about cookies but realize that you’re really writing about kindness.
Thank you all so, so much for being here. 2025 was indeed full of terrible things, but it was also full of wonderful people, and I consider myself truly lucky to be able to share my writing in this community. Wishing you all a holiday season filled with light, love, and your favorite treats. ❤️
We all need a Masha and a Raja in our lives! And I'm glad you got your cookie dream, even if it was disappointing. A result is a result. On to the next dream!
Thanks for sharing the Mallomars, and time for me to go find some See's candy!