WARNING: This post is going to be 97% rant and 3% delicious baked goods. It’s my blog and I can rant when I want to.
It’s kind of a rite of passage into adulthood that at some point in your grown-up years, you have a really terrible landlord. But I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again…my landlord is pretty much the WORST.
Exhibit A: The other day my roommates and I got locked inside our apartment (HELLO fire hazard) because our doorknob fell off. Just a casual turn of the handle and *pop!*…bye bye doorknob, bye bye ability to open door. So we’re locked in our apartment imagining all the ways we’re going to die and trying not to use up all the oxygen as the walls slowly close in on us and we think, who can help us get out of this pickle?
Our landlord, right?
Wrong. Though she lives one floor below us, we are NOT allowed to call the landlord. For any problems, whatsoever, periodendofstory. It’s even part of our lease agreement! Locked in your apartment? Tough. Hot water stops working? Too bad. Raccoon burrowed in your bedroom wall? Deal with it.
Luckily we have a back door and were able to escape, praise Jesus.
Exhibit B: I recently received an IRATE phone call from Landlady Extraordinaire because we’ve apparently been shortchanging her on rent each month. Which would typically be a big deal, but…
Try to guess how much we’ve been shortchanging her by. Seriously, guess! Bet you can’t.
A penny! One cent! 1/100th of one dollar!
I get it. Times are tough. But lady? Even if we shortchanged you every month for 2 years, you wouldn’t even be missing a QUARTER.
So obviously we stuck an envelope of pennies underneath her door with this month’s rent. We really know how to do the mature thing.
Exhibit C: She threatened to call the police last month because she heard the guys who live across the hall swearing. Seriously! Can’t make this stuff up. I live in an orphanage.
Luckily I have the coolest apartment with the best natural kitchen light in all of Brookline, which totally makes up for my mean old landlady. But you better believe I am NOT sharing my baked goodies with Cruella de Vil anytime soon.
None of that had to do with peanut butter cup s’mores. But these bars? They combine my two ALL-TIME-FAVORITE baked goods and are the new *!*!*Best thing I’ve ever made!!*!*! I’m never eating a s’more sans peanut butter cup or peanut butter cup sans s’more ever again. Cross my heart hope to die. Peanut butter cup s’mores are life.
Peanut Butter Cup S’mores Bars (adapted from Pinch of Yum and Sprinkle Some Sunshine)
yield: 16 large/20 small squares
- 1/2 cup butter, softened
- 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
- 1/4 cup sugar
- 1 egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla
- 1 1/4 cups flour
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 cup graham cracker crumbs
- 16 peanut butter cups, regular size
- 1 1/2 cups marshmallow fluff*
*Fluff is pretty impossible to measure, so this doesn’t have to be an exact amount, just kind of eyeball it. As long as you have enough to cover the PB cups, you’re good to go.
- Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line an 8×8 baking dishing with parchment paper; coat lightly with cooking spray.
- In a large bowl of the bowl of stand mixer, beat butter and sugars until fluffy. Beat in egg and vanilla until combined. Scrape down the sides. With the mixer on low, stir in the flour, baking powder, salt, and graham cracker crumbs until mixed.
- Spread 2/3 of the dough on the bottom of the prepared baking dish. Lightly press the peanut butter cups into the dough, then spread marshmallow fluff on top. Press the remaining dough on a non-stick surface into the shape of an 8×8 square. Place the square on top of the fluff and press down lightly.
- Bake for 30 minutes or until the edges just begin to brown. Allow to cool for at least two hours* to give the bars a chance to set, then remove from the pan and cut into squares with a large, sharp knife.
*Originally I said the bars needed to cool for 8 hours, but after making them again I’ve realized they’re ready to go after only about 2. I also bet they are DAAANG good straight from the oven