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The Big Cookie

The holidays are an especially difficult time of year for Oregano.  He has a sugar addiction and I bake cookies as holiday gifts. The aroma of the cookies lure him to the kitchen where I invariably find him snitching them off the cooling rack. At first he denies having eaten the cookies, but the crumbs on his shirt give him away every time. Then, he tries to legitimize his thievery by claiming to be a cookie quality control officer.  I’m certain one does not need to eat nearly a dozen cookies to ascertain their quality. He argues that he needs a large and varied sample to adequately do his job. I realize I’m being conned, but since he is willing to clean up the kitchen after I make a mess baking, I play along with his little charade.

Oregano’s sweet tooth is insatiable and uncontrollable. Once, when I was baking with unsweetened baker’s chocolate, he walked through the kitchen and grabbed a hunk of it. I warned him not to eat it. I told him it wasn’t sweet, but he ignored me and popped the large chunk into his mouth.  He didn’t get very far before he turned to me with the most befuddled look on his face. His brain could not process the mixed signals it was receiving from his eyes and taste buds. Quickly, he spit out the chocolate, took a swig of water and then began wiping his tongue with paper towels. As he dejectedly left the kitchen, I could hear him muttering, “It looked like chocolate. It said chocolate on the label.”

Oregano and his ever present sweet tooth have always fantasized about eating a big cookie: no particular type of cookie, just an unusually large cookie. I’m not talking about the jumbo sized cookies seen in diners and bakeries. Those aren’t big enough. He wants a cookie on steroids; a cookie the size of a hubcap. Something about the thought of seeing and eating a baked good so large sends him into fits of euphoria. Several years ago, when I was baking raspberry thumbprint cookies, Oregano had the opportunity of a lifetime.  As I removed a batch of cookies from the oven, Oregano spied a small amount of dough left in the bowl. The idea of the big cookie always lingering just below his consciousness, he turned to me and said, “There is only enough dough here for a few cookies. Can I use it to make one big cookie for myself?”

Knowing his love of the big cookie and because I already had 4 dozen cookies, I agreed. He eagerly set to work rolling out a wide expanse of dough then glopped heaping spoonfuls of raspberry jam into the center. When he finished, he had created what can only be described as a fist print cookie with a lake of raspberry filling. He gingerly slid the monstrous cookie onto a baking sheet and popped his creation into the oven. In just 15 minutes he would be able to fulfill his dream of eating a big cookie.

In order to make room for the girth of the big cookie on the cooling rack, I put its normally sized brethren into a tin. Behind me I heard the oven door open and a sigh of delight escape my husband’s mouth. The big cookie had baked perfectly. Just a few minutes of cooling and Oregano’s  lifelong cookie fantasy would become a reality. With my back still to the oven, I felt something warm ooze down my hip. I looked around and saw a splotch of red on my hip and my shocked husband staring at an empty spatula. At his feet was a big pile of little pieces of the big cookie- raspberry jam side down, of course. Apparently, in his zeal to get the hot cookie to the cooling rack and into his mouth as fast as possible, he had made a fatal decision. He chose to transport the top heavy cookie from the oven to the rack via a flimsy plastic spatula using only his reflexes as a safety net. As I looked at Oregano’s crestfallen face, I noticed that he was sucking on the tip of his finger. Adding insult to cookie injury, he had burned his finger in an attempt to save the teetering, hot cookie from an untimely and inedible demise. Alas, the hefty cookie did not survive the impact with my hip and the floor. The dream of the big cookie remained elusive as my husband sat shoveling a pile of crumbs into his mouth.

About Paprika Furstenburg

I was born with an overly developed sense of humor and poor coordination. The combination of these two character traits has taught me humility and given me the perspective to find the funny in everyday experiences.

37 responses »

  1. Pingback: Size Does Matter « Good Humored

  2. For some it’s a great white whale. For others, a big cookie.

  3. Oh, the poor man! That would be something I would do. This was hilarious (but I cried right along with him when he dropped it, so sad…)

  4. Oregano and I are kindred spirits. There is nothing like a nice large cookie to make a day. The only thing better is a large brownie. hint hint

  5. Funny funny post. Felt like I was there. (started to fight for the crumbs, but was worried about losing a finger….) thanks for the chuckles

    • Thanks! So glad I made you laugh 🙂 I didn’t even attempt to get near him and his pile of crumbs. I left him to his sad little pile of crumbs and came back when all the raspberry jam had been cleaned off the floor.

  6. My daughter in law always makes a box or tin of chocolate chip cookies for my son every Christmas. He shares with no one and usually doesn’t even acknowledge that he has received this spectacular present. Where did I go wrong ? Isn’t “sharing” one of the first things a child learns? Hmmmmm… evidently not. As my own baked c.c. cookies have a way of magically “disappearing”, perhaps this hoarding was learned from the father?

  7. This one had me laughing out loud several times. What are Oregano’s thoughts on cookie cakes? I personally can’t stand the taste of cookies (gasp!), but there is something truly magical about cookie cakes (I have a delicate palate- trust me, there’s a difference). I feel that it would satisfy his large cookie needs quite well.

    • I’m glad this story made you laugh. I don’t know Oregano’s thoughts on cookie cakes. I’m not sure his sweet tooth is that discerning that he classifies his baked goods. I think his only requirement is that it is sweet.

  8. Hilarious! I laughed my way through this as I couldn’t help but insert my husband into the scenario. It sounds so much like something he would do. “There is only enough dough here for a few cookies. Can I use it to make one big cookie for myself?”

    I love your husband!

    By the way, those thumbprint cookies are the bomb.

    • I had a feeling I wasn’t the only one married to a cookie snatcher. Out of deference to the tragic end of the big raspberry fistprint cookie, I have not made that type of cookie since then.

      Thanks so much for visiting and commenting. I hope you’ll be back again soon 🙂

  9. These comments are starving me to death. Cookies and latkes, cookies and latkes, my head is spinning.

  10. Thank heavens you are not baking in my kitchen! As far as willpower goes, Oregano doesn’t fall far from the Rosemary!! xox

  11. Next time you are down, we might have to attempt a HUGE chocolate chip cookie!!!

  12. That was one of the worst moments of my life when that cookie fell to the floor. I can also safely say that I have never tasted anything worse than that unsweetened chocolate – I had to scrape it off my tongue to get rid of the taste.

    Anyway, for some fun, I found this website for the company that baked the World’s Biggest Cookie! On May 17, 2003, the Immaculate Baking Co. baked the World’s Biggest Cookie in Flat Rock, NC. It was 102 feet wide and over 40,000 pounds! I could have eaten it all myself if I had a few days. Mmmmm, chocolate chip!

  13. You are lucky. My husband does not have a sweeet tooth. He doesn’t eat desserts except for an occasional cookie…if it’s chocolate chip. It would be so much more fun for me is he would eat what I bake! Send your husband over!

  14. I produced over 50 delightfully-golden potato latkes yesterday for the annual family Hannukah ritual. Over the years, it seems that I have left an indelible, or is it edible–but certainly not inedible, mark on the clan with respect to my latke-making prowess. Reading your article conjures up the thought of a giant golden-brown potato latke–the kind that would have the chefs at Wegmans oohing and aahing. Like Oregano, the thought of such a creation plays havoc with my common sense. However, the limitations imposed by the size of our frying pans curtails my fantasy. I am resigned to turning out the many the platefuls of normal sized latkes and left with the thought of WHAT IF. (On second thought, I am not above going to the local pizzeria with a large bowl of batter.)

  15. I would love a big cookie too, but would need to fill my largest pot with milk so I could dip it……

  16. Poor Oregano! I think he needs to get a big tub of chocolate chip cookie dough and get to baking!

    • He has not attempted to make another big cookie, but he does have a large, heavy-duty metal spatula for this next attempt. Don’t feel too bad for him, he was able to console himself with regular sized cookies.


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