BEHOLD THE WONDER!!! 🙌🏼

During a phone call with my sister last month, it somehow came up in conversation that New Zealand does not have something that most Americans consider to be one of the absolute staples of wholesome, delicious, nutritious American foods, beloved by generations of children across the United States.

My partner Stewart has two boys, who are 8 and 10 years old. I haven’t mentioned them in my writing thus far because although I absolutely adore them and they are a huge part of my life here, they’re not my children, and it’s certainly not my place to plaster them all over the internet. But because they are such a huge part of my life here, and because I have–as they say in NZ–“heaps” of great stories about them, I think it’s okay with all parents and children involved here if I make up names for them so that they can be a part of my story. They’re borderline obsessed with the Minions, so I shall henceforth refer to the 10 year old as Bob and the 8 year old as Kevin.

Yesterday I was sitting at the kitchen table, immersed–ironically–in researching the history of the New Zealand postal service for a future blog post, when a lovely NZ Post woman woman “rocked up” (Kiwi for “showed up”) at the open slider door and went “Hi there!” and I went “[insert horror movie-level scream]” (I startle easily). After apologizing, and mentioning with a chuckle that it happens to her constantly, she handed me a big box…..from Gillian. And I knew, I just knew, that my awesome sister had sent us a jar of this sacred American food.

The care package, addressed to all of us, was a veritable treasure trove of gifts. Gillian sent us State Park stickers and fake tattoos of trout (both acquired from a national conference that she, as a MA State Parks Supervisor, had recently attended), two sheets from her page-a-day true crime calendar (because what 8 and 10 year old doesn’t love true crime, right?? 😆 I’m guessing those were meant just for me), and two mini “SuperPets” figurines. Also enclosed was a pencil from the Birdwatcher’s General Store on Cape Cod, which you can only get by telling them a bird joke (my sister’s was “Why didn’t Mozart keep chickens? Because they were always saying BACH BACH BACH!”).

And she sent us Marcus! Marcus is a sweet, cuddly, super soft sloth that I found on Etsy and sent to my sister years ago, when we happened to be living far apart (though not this far apart) because Marcus has nice long arms for hugging. He’s settling right in to life in the Antipodes.

But the absolute star of the care package was……….





…………..wait for it…………..



…………..wait for it…………..

….. a ginormous jar of that wholesome, delicious, nutritious American food beloved by children across the States:

DURKEE’S MARSHMALLOW FLUFF.

It’s true: they do not have marshmallow fluff in New Zealand (hey, I said it’s an amazing country; I never said it was a perfect country).

My sister enclosed a note regarding the ingredients required to make a proper fluffernutter sandwich:

1. The cheapest bread possible
2. Cheap peanut butter
3. Fluff

A taste test ensued, which had me on the edge of my seat because Gillian had just send this to us from the other side of the world and what if they didn’t like it….?!

Tiny spoons were passed around, and Stu, Bob, and Kevin (again; Minion names, not their real names) each dipped theirs deep into the gooey vat of sticky, sticky deliciousness. Eyes widened and everyone got very quiet while they experienced their first taste of good old-fashioned American fluff.

The reviews were unanimous: marshmallow fluff is amazing. Bob looked up at his father and asked theatrically, in an Oscar-worthy performance, “Please, sir, may I have some more?”.

I told the boys I would text my sister and tell her that they liked the fluff. “NO!!” Kevin said emphatically. “Tell her Kevin LOVES THE FLUFF.” My sister’s reply was “Happy to be ruining teeth and diets worldwide!”.

Although no one has yet to graduate to an actual fluffernutter sandwich–the fluff on its own is just so good–Stu did try a spoon of fluff with a spoon of cheap peanut butter and declared that it was delicious.

The fluff has somehow made its way into every conversation topic in the past 24 hours, from “What does everyone reckon we have for dinner tonight?” (“FLUFF!!!!”), to “How was the swimming tournament at school today?” (“Can I have some fluff??”).

I will be sure to report back to all of you when the gang here has eventually graduated to a proper fluffernutter sandwich.

Gillian, you are the master of care packages and the best sister ever. ❤️

PS: I of course did a deep dive on marshmallow fluff. The Fluffernutter Sandwich was invented in Massachusetts in 1917 by a man named Archibald Query—!!! I’m curious to know if any of you knew this!