Wiggly Worms (Grandma's)

Every family has certain recipes that are more than just something to eat. Sometimes, when you make them, you remember a person, a place, or a special moment in your life.

Grandma’s Wiggly Worms

This story goes back to the time when our family was living in Alaska. My little brothers and sisters were only about four, five, or six years old, and money was tighter than tight.

Dad had lost his job, and we were living off what my parents had managed to save. Now, we weren't starving or living on the street. We had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and enough gas to get where we needed to go.
But when I say money was tight, I mean two pennies couldn't make a dime kind of tight.

My dad was also one of those proud, old-school people who believed that if you could possibly make it on your own, you did. Asking for help just wasn't something that came easily to him. So, our family learned how to stretch what we had and make the best of whatever happened to be sitting in the kitchen cabinets.
One evening—probably a Friday or Saturday night, although I honestly can't remember—we had just finished dinner. My little brother and sister decided they wanted something sweet.

So Mom went to the kitchen, probably thinking, "All right, what in the world can I make with what I've got?"
She started opening cabinets and looking through everything. There wasn't enough of anything to make cookies. No cake mix. No fancy dessert ingredients.
But she did find a few things:

A bag of small marshmallows
A bag of Chow Mein Noodles
A Cube of butter
A bag of chocolate chips

Mom was the kind of cook who could look at a few random ingredients and think, "Well... I've got this, and I've got that. I can make something out of this."
So, she grabbed a big pot and melted some butter in it. Then came the chocolate chips and the marshmallows. Before long, everything had melted together into a warm, gooey, chocolatey mixture.

The butter helped keep everything from sticking, and once the marshmallows and chocolate had melted together, she opened up the bag of Chow Mein Noodles and stirred them right in.

At this point, nobody knew exactly what Mom was making. Honestly, I'm not sure Mom knew either. Just knew I would fix the sweet craving and it smelled good.
She covered a cookie sheet with wax paper and poured the sticky mixture out onto it, spreading it around so it could cool.
By then, my little brother and sister were standing nearby, watching closely.

"Mom! making something!"

Of course, they immediately wanted to eat it. Mom told them they had to wait.
"It has to cool first. It's too hot!"

So there they stood, staring at this strange chocolate-covered pile of noodles and marshmallows, waiting as patiently as small children could waiting for chocolate and marshmallows to cool down to eat.
Then my little brother looked at it and said something that changed the recipe forever.
"It looks like wiggly worms!"
And just like that...

** Wiggly Worms were born.**

From that day on, that was what our family called them.
The recipe has been around for many, many years now, and over time we've experimented with it. We've tried milk chocolate, dark chocolate, peppermint chips, peanut butter chips, and probably a few other variations along the way.
The funny thing is, they all turned out pretty good.
But no matter what kind of chocolate or chips we use, they'll always be Wiggly Worms to our family.
And that's really what makes this recipe special.
It isn't a recipe that came from a fancy cookbook. It wasn't handed down from some famous chef. It came from a time when money was tight, the cupboards weren't exactly overflowing, and Mom was simply trying to find something sweet to make for a couple of kids.
She looked at what she had, put a few things together, and created something completely new.
Sometimes, the best family recipes are born from a little bit of this... A little bit of that... And someone who knows how to make something wonderful out of almost nothing.

That is the story behind Grandma's Wiggly Worms.