It’s Mallomar Season

It’s officially autumn … Or as my mother says, Mallomar Season.

If you’re from the Northeast, especially New York or New Jersey, you know what she’s talking about: those chocolate-marshmallow-graham cracker cookies in the bright yellow box that are only available from September through March. They’re like a non-camper’s version of s’mores, or the prequel to s’mores.

It's Mallomar Season — Mallomars, a NE seasonal treat.

Sure, fall is also a time for football, apple picking, and all things pumpkin spice, but if you ask my mother, autumn is really about the cookies.

A little cookie history

Nabisco sold the first boxes of Mallomars in 1913 to a grocer in Hoboken, NJ. Because back then refrigerated trucks weren’t a thing, Mallomars were only sold in colder climates during the cooler months. The thin chocolate coating would melt otherwise. A true disaster, according to my mom.

Today, despite advances in refrigeration, the tradition sticks. Mallomars are only sold regionally in the Northeast (with the bulk of sales coming from NY and NJ, still) and only between September and March. Because of their limited availability, as well as their deliciousness, they have a bit of a cult following.

And my mother is the unofficial leader.

Woman on a mission

As soon as those chocolatey, marshmallowy cookies hit her local Long Island grocery store, she’s stocking up because one box is simply not enough.

But this year, she ran into a problem.

Apparently, because of the high demand and limited supply, my mother’s local grocery store is enforcing a 2-box limit. My mother is a 79-year-old grown woman with an “I-do-what-I-want” attitude (now you know where I get it), so she doesn’t think that rule applies to her.

A Macchiavellian approach

Rather than drive from store to store (gas prices are still really high, after all), my ~~devious~~ clever mother devised a better work-around: She buys her two boxes along with her other weekly groceries from one cashier, loads them into her car, then returns to the store to buy two more boxes — using a different check-out line.

She does this weekly.

When I asked her if she freezes the extra boxes for later consumption like some other Mallomar fanatics, she sounded confused by the question, admitting that hers don’t last long enough to bother. I should have known better. But she does keep them in the refrigerator to ward off those unexpected “second summer” days that pop up in late September and early October.

The ends justify the means

I realize that her behavior, especially to the Mallomar-haters out there, probably sounds extreme, but she’s quick to justify her actions in a very Macchiavelian way with three pretty solid reasons:

She’s a giver. She shares her stash with her five grandsons, mailing a box to each of them, with extras for the three in college because, “They have roommates, so they’ll need to share.” (True.)
She’s getting in more daily steps. Going back into the store for more boxes means she’s walking more, and she considers that a form of exercise. (Okay, this one’s a reach, but I’ll give it to her.)
She deserves it. They’re limited edition and so is she, at 79. (Fair enough.)

My mother isn’t exactly a foodie, but she knows her sweets. While she loves a good piece of chocolate, this time of years, she’s all about the Mallomars. Limits be damned! If you think she’s wrong for bucking the system, fight her. She’s stronger than she looks — and definitely more stubborn.