Next-Level Rice Krispie Treats

Late May. Memorial Day weekend. Cannon Beach again — the annual pilgrimage, the third year, the ocean that Miya pointed at and said "Is that Japan?" and that she now points at and says "That's Japan," the question having graduated to a statement, the uncertainty having graduated to knowledge, the way everything graduates in this child's life: from question to answer, from "what is custody?" to "I already know," from wobbling hiragana to reading recipe cards, from observer to cook. The graduation is the growth. The growth is the miracle. The miracle is ordinary.

I made beach onigiri — the tradition, the sand-in-the-nori, the rice shaped by hands that smell like salt water and sunscreen. Miya shaped her own this year — perfect triangles, no help, no supervision, the rice obeying her hands the way it obeys mine, the way it obeyed Fumiko's. The obedience is the practice. The practice has been passed. The passing is complete. She can make onigiri. She can make them on a beach. She can make them anywhere. The portable skill, the traveling food, the thing that goes wherever you go and feeds whoever you're with. Miya has the skill. Miya has the food. Miya has the practice. She is seven years old and she is the fourth generation and the generation is producing.

I started saving more seriously for the Japan trip. The book advance helped. The magazine column pays. The yoga pays. The blog — the blog still doesn't pay enough to matter, but the blog pays in other currencies: reputation, community, the thing-that-leads-to-the-thing. The Japan fund is growing. The trip is four years away. Four years is a long time and no time at all. Four years is the length of a marriage (mine lasted seven). Four years is the length of a grief (mine will last forever). Four years is exactly enough time to save for the most important trip of our lives.

Onigiri is rice shaped by knowing hands — and this year, Miya’s hands finally know. Back home after Cannon Beach, still smelling faintly of salt and sunscreen, I wanted to extend that feeling of joyful, tactile shaping into something we could make together in the kitchen without ceremony or instruction. These Next-Level Rice Krispie Treats — browned butter, generous salt, pulled apart while still warm — are the other side of the same coin: humble rice, transformed by heat and hands and patience, portable enough to carry anywhere the generation takes you.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min + 30 min cooling | Servings: 16

Ingredients

6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into pieces
2 (10 oz) bags mini marshmallows, divided
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
3/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt, divided, plus more for topping
7 cups Rice Krispies cereal
Nonstick cooking spray

Instructions

Brown the butter. In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven over medium heat, melt the butter, swirling occasionally. Continue cooking 3—4 minutes until the butter turns golden amber and smells nutty. Watch carefully; it goes from brown to burned quickly.
Melt most of the marshmallows. Remove the pot from heat and add 1 1/2 bags of the marshmallows (reserving the rest). Stir until completely melted and smooth. Stir in the vanilla extract and 1/2 teaspoon of the flaky salt.
Add cereal and remaining marshmallows. Add the Rice Krispies and the reserved marshmallows to the pot. Fold gently with a silicone spatula until just combined — do not overmix. Pockets of whole marshmallow are what make these next-level; they create gooey, stretchy pulls in the finished treat.
Press into pan. Coat a 9x13-inch baking pan generously with cooking spray. Transfer the mixture to the pan. Spray your hands or the spatula and press the mixture in gently and evenly — press just enough to hold, not so hard you compact all the air out.
Finish with salt. Immediately sprinkle the top with the remaining 1/4 teaspoon flaky sea salt while the treats are still warm. This is not optional.
Cool before cutting. Let the pan sit uncovered at room temperature for at least 30 minutes. Cut into 16 squares with a greased knife for clean edges. Store in an airtight container at room temperature up to 3 days — though they rarely last that long.

Nutrition (per serving)

Next-Level Rice Krispie Treats — Shaped by Hands That Know