For a long time now -- years, actually -- I've been dreaming of baking a batch of brownies on a shallow rimmed cookie sheet.
Why?
Well, because everyone knows that the best part of the brownie is the chewy top. So I surmised that if one were to spread the batter thin, the whole batch would be one big, chewylicious brownie top.
Even after all the plotting, I've never done it, though, because FSM forbid they should come out every bit as delectable as my sweet-tooth-fueled imagination has dreamed, I'd never leave the house again because:
Why?
Well, because everyone knows that the best part of the brownie is the chewy top. So I surmised that if one were to spread the batter thin, the whole batch would be one big, chewylicious brownie top.
Even after all the plotting, I've never done it, though, because FSM forbid they should come out every bit as delectable as my sweet-tooth-fueled imagination has dreamed, I'd never leave the house again because:
1) I'd be too busy shoving my pie-hole full of those scrumptious morsels;
and
2) I'd soon be literally unable to leave the house after my ass grew to such ginormous* proportions as to no longer fit through the doorways -- even the French double-door out the back!
*Ginormous, by the way, is an actual word now. It was just added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary this year. And all I have to say is It's about fricking time!
But back to the warning.
Just last week I walked into Safeway, my local French grocer (at least when spoken with a fake French accent a la Target/Tar-JAY fashion -- SAFF-uh-WAY), and nearly bumped foreheads with a woman wearing a seemingly innocuous green smock and a welcoming, come-hither smile.
"Would you like to try a sample?" she purred.
Cece (in tow) leaned in and said, "Oh, Mom! Cookies! Can I try one?"
I, not thinking anything of it, said, "Sure, babe."
Green Smock Woman then raised her eyes to me and asked, "One for you too, Mom?"
"Okay," I relented.
I reached to take one for myself and noticed something different about these cookies. The texture was not that of your typical cookie.
That's when I got a look at them.
After years of mere fantasizing, I was holding, in my own hand, a genuine brownie top cookie.
SON. OF. A. BITCH.
I stood there, trembling a tiny bit, gazing at that wondrous achievement.
I paused. Closed my eyes. Took a breath. And took a bite.
And that's when I confirmed beyond all possible doubt that I am, in fact, clairvoyant. Because that brownie top cookie was every bit as perfect as I'd always imagined it would be. It was EXACTLY as I'd dreamed -- and more -- because this cookie was real. This one was in my mouth, not just in my heart.
Cece, enjoying her cookie next to me, said, "Yum! This is GOOD!"
Overwhelmed and unable to speak, I merely nodded and gave her a closed-mouth smile, lest even one tiny crumb escape my lips.
Throughout that shopping trip I had to fight the overwhelming urge to stampede my way back to Green Smock Lady, knock her down, and steal every last cookie she had. It took self-control I didn't even know I had. But I managed to do it.
We paid for our groceries, loaded them up into the car, and left.
I was safe.
Or so I thought.
A few days later I ventured back to Safeway. And by the way, you people who only grocery shop once a week -- or, FSM forbid, once a month! -- are hopelessly robotic and clearly lack imagination & spontaneity.
As soon as I pulled into the parking lot I remembered my beloved brownie tops.
I walked in, my pace quickening in anticipation, but Green Smock Lady was nowhere to be seen. I consoled myself with the reassurance that it was probably for the best. I didn't need those cookies. Yes, I was better off staying away from them. Good.
But that feeling was smashed by the time I reached the middle of the produce section, when Green Smock Lady's voice came over the PA system: "Good afternoon, shoppers. Be sure to stop by the bakery and purchase some of our new Chewy Fudge Cookies. They're just $4.99 a box; take some home today ..." she sneered.
Of course. Like all good pushers, Safeway knows the system: The first taste is free; after that, you've gotta pay.
They'd given me my freebie and hooked me good, and they knew it.
And so, since those cookies are the crack to my Whitney, and since I've never heard of a pusher who's voluntarily gone out of business, Safeway is now anything but safe.
*Ginormous, by the way, is an actual word now. It was just added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary this year. And all I have to say is It's about fricking time!
But back to the warning.
Just last week I walked into Safeway, my local French grocer (at least when spoken with a fake French accent a la Target/Tar-JAY fashion -- SAFF-uh-WAY), and nearly bumped foreheads with a woman wearing a seemingly innocuous green smock and a welcoming, come-hither smile.
"Would you like to try a sample?" she purred.
Cece (in tow) leaned in and said, "Oh, Mom! Cookies! Can I try one?"
I, not thinking anything of it, said, "Sure, babe."
Green Smock Woman then raised her eyes to me and asked, "One for you too, Mom?"
"Okay," I relented.
I reached to take one for myself and noticed something different about these cookies. The texture was not that of your typical cookie.
That's when I got a look at them.
After years of mere fantasizing, I was holding, in my own hand, a genuine brownie top cookie.
SON. OF. A. BITCH.
I stood there, trembling a tiny bit, gazing at that wondrous achievement.
I paused. Closed my eyes. Took a breath. And took a bite.
And that's when I confirmed beyond all possible doubt that I am, in fact, clairvoyant. Because that brownie top cookie was every bit as perfect as I'd always imagined it would be. It was EXACTLY as I'd dreamed -- and more -- because this cookie was real. This one was in my mouth, not just in my heart.
Cece, enjoying her cookie next to me, said, "Yum! This is GOOD!"
Overwhelmed and unable to speak, I merely nodded and gave her a closed-mouth smile, lest even one tiny crumb escape my lips.
Throughout that shopping trip I had to fight the overwhelming urge to stampede my way back to Green Smock Lady, knock her down, and steal every last cookie she had. It took self-control I didn't even know I had. But I managed to do it.
We paid for our groceries, loaded them up into the car, and left.
I was safe.
Or so I thought.
A few days later I ventured back to Safeway. And by the way, you people who only grocery shop once a week -- or, FSM forbid, once a month! -- are hopelessly robotic and clearly lack imagination & spontaneity.
As soon as I pulled into the parking lot I remembered my beloved brownie tops.
I walked in, my pace quickening in anticipation, but Green Smock Lady was nowhere to be seen. I consoled myself with the reassurance that it was probably for the best. I didn't need those cookies. Yes, I was better off staying away from them. Good.
But that feeling was smashed by the time I reached the middle of the produce section, when Green Smock Lady's voice came over the PA system: "Good afternoon, shoppers. Be sure to stop by the bakery and purchase some of our new Chewy Fudge Cookies. They're just $4.99 a box; take some home today ..." she sneered.
Of course. Like all good pushers, Safeway knows the system: The first taste is free; after that, you've gotta pay.
They'd given me my freebie and hooked me good, and they knew it.
And so, since those cookies are the crack to my Whitney, and since I've never heard of a pusher who's voluntarily gone out of business, Safeway is now anything but safe.
1 comment:
Love. This. Post! Fab pictures of the kids, perfectly written story. And yes! If Lola is saying "ginormous" in her cultivated little British accent (just been introduced by to the delights of Charlie and Lola by my niece), then certainly it belongs in the Merriam Webster.
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