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Sparkly Princess Rice Krispies Treats — For the Girl Who Will One Day Hold a Spoon

The transition at Amazon is underway. I am working remotely, winding down projects, documenting systems, handing off to my team. The work is mechanical and bittersweet. Fifteen years of my career are being compressed into transition documents and knowledge-transfer sessions. I wrote an architecture guide for the Alexa smart home platform that I designed. I wrote it with the care of someone building a monument to their own departure — thorough, precise, designed to last after I am gone. I am proud of the work I did at Amazon. I am also proud that I am leaving. Both things are true.

Hana is four and a half months old. She has discovered her feet. She grabs them with both hands and pulls them toward her face with the flexibility of someone who has no concept of physical limitations. She is endlessly entertained by her feet. I am endlessly entertained by her entertainment. Parenthood is a recursive loop: the baby discovers something, the parents discover the baby discovering something, and the discovery multiplies.

Banchan Labs hit 3,200 subscribers this month. James is managing brilliantly. Grace has taken on more responsibility — she now supervises packing and quality control, and she has trained Mina and Tess to her exacting standards. Grace's standards are: "Every box should look like a grandmother packed it. With love and no gaps." The boxes look like a grandmother packed them. Because a grandmother did pack them. Grace is the grandmother. The grandmother is the standard.

I took Hana to Bellevue on Saturday. David had built something new — a mobile for Hana's crib corner, made from wooden birds he had carved and painted himself. The birds are painted with Korean and Taiwanese colors — red, blue, gold, green. They hang from thin wire and spin in the air current. David said, "I looked up traditional Korean colors and traditional Taiwanese colors and made birds in both." He said this as though it were the most natural thing in the world for an eighty-one-year-old white man from Bellevue to research Korean and Taiwanese color symbolism for his granddaughter's mobile. It is the most David thing David has ever done: quiet, research-based, built with his hands, culturally intentional in a way that David was not when he raised Stephanie but is now, because David learns. David has always learned. It just took him longer to learn the cultural things because nobody taught him and he had to teach himself, and teaching yourself is slower but it counts. It counts.

The recipe this week is a Korean sweet potato snack — goguma mattang — candied sweet potatoes. Sweet potatoes, cubed. Deep-fried until golden. Tossed in a caramel of sugar, water, and corn syrup until coated in a shiny glaze. Sprinkled with black sesame seeds. Eat while hot — the caramel pulls into strings when you pick up each piece. This is a Korean street food that Jisoo loves and that I am learning to make for when Hana is old enough for solid foods. The sweet potatoes are practice. Everything I cook now is practice for Hana. The kitchen has been reorganized around a person who cannot yet hold a spoon. The spoon will come. The sweet potatoes will be ready.

I did not end up making the goguma mattang this week — Hana had a fussy afternoon and the hot caramel felt like a risk with a baby on my hip. Instead I made these with Grace on Sunday while David held Hana and narrated the birds on the mobile to her in a voice he reserves only for her. Grace said treats with sprinkles are “not serious cooking” and then ate three of them. The sparkle felt right for the week — for a baby who grabs her own feet, for a man who researches color symbolism at eighty-one, for all of us practicing how to be the family Hana deserves.

Sparkly Princess Rice Krispies Treats

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 20 minutes + 30 minutes cooling | Servings: 16 squares

Ingredients

  • 6 cups Rice Krispies cereal
  • 1 package (10 oz) mini marshmallows
  • 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  • 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 2–3 tablespoons rainbow or iridescent sprinkles (plus more for topping)
  • 1/4 cup white chocolate chips, melted (for drizzle)
  • Edible gold or silver luster dust (optional, for sparkle)

Instructions

  1. Prepare the pan. Line a 9x13-inch baking pan with parchment paper and lightly coat with nonstick spray. Set aside.
  2. Melt butter and marshmallows. In a large heavy-bottomed pot over medium-low heat, melt butter until foamy. Add mini marshmallows and stir constantly until completely melted and smooth, about 4–5 minutes. Remove from heat.
  3. Add flavor. Stir in vanilla extract and sea salt until combined.
  4. Fold in cereal. Working quickly, add the Rice Krispies cereal and fold gently with a silicone spatula until every piece is evenly coated. Do not overmix — overmixing makes the treats dense.
  5. Add sprinkles. Fold in the 2–3 tablespoons of sprinkles just until distributed. A few more turns than you think you need, but not many — you want streaks of color, not blended color.
  6. Press into pan. Transfer the mixture to the prepared pan. Using lightly buttered hands or a piece of parchment, press gently and evenly into the pan. Do not press too hard — a lighter press keeps the texture airy and tender.
  7. Top and sparkle. Drizzle melted white chocolate over the surface in thin lines. Scatter additional sprinkles over the top while the chocolate is still wet. If using luster dust, brush lightly over the surface with a dry pastry brush for a shimmering finish.
  8. Cool completely. Let set at room temperature for at least 30 minutes before cutting. Cut into 16 squares with a sharp knife sprayed lightly with nonstick spray between cuts.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 165 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 4g | Carbs: 31g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 95mg

Stephanie Park
About the cook who shared this
Stephanie Park
Week 425 of Stephanie’s 30-year story · Seattle, Washington
Stephanie is a software engineer in Seattle, a new mom, and a Korean-American adoptee who spent twenty-five years not knowing where she came from. She was adopted as an infant by a white family in Bellevue who loved her completely and never cooked Korean food. At twenty-eight, she found her birth mother in Busan — and then she found herself in a kitchen, crying over her first homemade kimchi jjigae, because some things your body remembers even when your mind doesn't.

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