The world only needed one thing more, and now we’re good.
Okay, maybe that’s a tad hyperbolic. But honestly, s’mores need peanut butter like Kanye needs Twitter. Magic bars are already over the top gooey and chewy, so why not have a little mouth party up in here? The week is going to be so much more pleasant with some sugar.
These are a riff on the standard magic bar, which comes together quickly and (of course) magically with fairly few ingredients and a can of sweetened condensed milk. SCM (as we bakers like to call it) is stuff of the gods and should not be put in a corner. Nobody puts Baby in a corner.
We’re heading into birthday season in my family, and it’s always a long run. Everyone’s birthday falls between March and August, and since we all live in the same area, it’s a lot of parties and cake. Can you guess who bakes a lot of the cake? Yep. I’m cool with it.
This year, my son has requested his usual vanilla cake with…ready? RAINBOW frosting. As in, all different colors. If I didn’t love the kid so much, I would have told him in no uncertain terms that I’m not in the mood to spend the next three weeks studying YouTube tutorials on how to get a rainbow cake accomplished with the least amount of pain. At the moment, the main decision lies between fondant and buttercream, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
The biggest problems always center around party venue. I don’t like having the parties at home because, to put it mildly, lots of children trash my house faster than a pack of wildebeests would. So we can pay oodles of money to a bouncy place, or a nature center, or a trampoline zone. But that’s all very been there done that at this point, so I’m out of ideas. #firstworldproblems
And don’t get me started on goody bags. Just do not.
I guess all of these issues are as widespread as the age-old question of what to eat for dinner. Check out my post on the Today Food Club website and click to the left of the Facebook icon to vote for me!
If all of life’s problems could be solved as magically as a, well, magic bar, I’d be a happy kid. These are so simple to make, and they hit all my happy places!
Hey, if only party planning could be as easy as a magic bar. But we can only have so much in life! In a world with peanut butter s’more magic bars, it’s not right to complain anyway!
I fulfill many roles in life: wife, mother, teacher, everlasting learner.
This site is dedicated to one role that expresses my creativity in ways that I find consistently challenging and rewarding: baker.
Inventing new ways to enhance food, especially if that food involves chocolate or peanut butter (or both!), is a passion of mine. I look forward to sharing my ideas with you.
Anyone been neglecting the Kit Kats lately? Except me, that is?
Well, let’s get that fixed right away. Anything that involves a wafer and chocolate should never be ignored. That goes double for these bars, which exceed the already super addictive quotient of my usual baking fare.
Seriously, I couldn’t stop eating these. I tried, too. But no matter how many I gave away or shared, I still had enough to make a dent in the batch. And that is an accomplishment worth savoring, my friends.
I know, I know. Key lime is a summer thing, right? But I’m a summer girl stuck in the tail end of the winter from hell. I need to do something to ease the pain.
And since it’s my week to bake green stuff (yay, St. Paddy’s Day!), I figured it sorta kinda works. Lime zest is very green.
These bars are special. I adapted this recipe from Becky Bakes and it’s one of my favorites. Instead of working like a traditional lemon bar, these have a consistency like a brownie, but with citrus. Super brilliant. All I did was substitute key limes for the lemon, so I can take credit for very little here. And I am forever indebted to Becky’s genius.
Anyway, onward. These bars come out very sticky and delicious, dripping with a tangy and sweet glaze. They’re impossible to resist.
Most of my childhood memories revolve around food. And being upset when little girls made fun of my clothes. So yeah, I’d rather think about the food.
There was a cookie shop (a Mrs. Fields-type place) in the student union of the university where my parents worked. Sometimes, we’d go visit my dad at work, and on a really good day, we’d get a big gingerbread man as a treat. Or at least, it seemed big. If I looked at the cookie as an adult, it would probably be tiny.