The idea is genius: All the yummy goodness of a s’more wrapped in an ice cream cone. The reality was like taking a bite into a piece of charred cardboard that smelled like I burned the brownies. (And I know what burned brownies smell like.)
I love marshmallows roasted over the fire. It’s a little taste of warmth and sugary love. But not this. This was bad.
Hand me a stick. I need to do this the old fashioned way — sticky fingers and all.