Better Than the Classic: Nutella Raspberry S’mores

I am no stranger to late night pantry attack of guilty pleasures.  In fact, I am a proud card carrying member of this underground club where members world wide shamefully rummage through the pantry in the late evening hours foraging for all the foods most health magazines tell you to avoid without a second thought to whether or not doing so will undo all the Fitbit goals one may have accomplished just earlier in the day.  A woman on a mission to find chocolate cannot be stopped, reasoned with, and most importantly, denied.

The conversation I have with myself when I’m enjoying a few spoonfuls of peanut butter studded with chocolate chips goes something like this.

I’ll just have one spoonful.

Ooooohhh, that was good.  Just one more spoonful.

Hmmmm… peanut butter is good for you.  There is no flour, so it’s okay.

OMG, chocolate and peanut butter are so amazing together! Where’s the ice cream!?

And the vicious cycle begins and the next thing you know you wake up with an empty pint of ice cream beside your bed with candy foil wrappers on your night stand indicating a burglar must have been in the same room and left a trail of candy wrappers as his way to tell me he was, in fact, in my room watching me sleep while eating junk food.

This doesn’t happen often. Maybe just once a month.  Coincidentally, around the time I start bloating, getting angry at the most trivial of things, and when the only foods I want to eat have insane amounts of salt, sugar, fat, and carbs.

Honestly though, my newest guilty pleasure isn’t new to me at all. In fact, I eat these all year round.  I’m talking s’mores, people.   Not just any s’mores. Nutella s’mores studded with some type of fresh berry.  They are ridiculously good.  As in, it takes 2-3 of of them to really feel satisfied.  I posted the recipe on PBS Parents today but for all the desperate housewives out there, cooking the marshmallow in the microwave only takes 10 seconds – at least this is what the note from the burglar said.

And to my husband, Rob, who picks up those wrappers while shaking his head and walks away without saying a word, thank you. Thank you for just saying nothing.  This is why I married you.

Enjoy.