Marshmallows are to happiness as lemons are to lemonade. Except, apparently, if you are Indian. Heidi bought some mallows for us to roast (on a gas burner...). The only flavor available was something fruity:
It took a whole lot of convincing for Durga and Lova to try them. "Nooooo Ma'am!!" was their reply.
I don't know what Krishnayya said to them in Telugu, but he got them to give it a taste. I have a feeling their jobs may have been on the line...Lova took the tiniest bite and said, "Super, Ma'am!" in an I'm-really-trying-to-be-sincere-but-I-can't-help-that-I-hate-it way. We told her she has to try pizza next.
They think we're crazy. Maybe we are. But they can't make fun of us for not liking some of their sweets--I'm sorry, I just don't like eating a ball that resembles dirt, sugar, and sand in both taste and texture. We can just agree to disagree in the sugar department.