Though I don’t remember the exact time and place where I experienced my first gooey, chocolaty, finger-licking, lip-smacking campfire treat affectionately known as a s’more, I’m pretty sure it was consumed during a rustic Girl Scout outing. At age 13, I had already collected and sewn enough badges on my standard-issue green sash—hospitality, books, nature and the like—to certify me as a serious Scout, so communing with my fellow friends while gorging on the iconic graham-cracker-meets-singed-marshmallows-and-melty-chocolate-bars seemed downright recreational. I wasn’t earning anything but pure tastebud delight.