I’m thinking about cookies and I don’t even eat them. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t like them. I do. And they are on my mind.
I used to have some favorites. My number one absolute, was a homemade, gooey, melting chocolate chip, soft and chewy cookie. Yes, the reliable chocolate chip cookie. But it had to be soft. And always with a cold glass of milk.
My next favorites were not cooked yet. My Mom, and my brother too, used to make oatmeal cookies, but the recipe had them roll up the dough in wax paper and place it in the refrigerator. I think, overnight. Anyway, the best thing ever, was opening up the refrigerator door, carefully lifting down that roll, and slicing off a few premature cookies. It was like food magic. It became a hallowed ritual.
I was never quite sure why we ever had to bake them. They were so delicious in their raw state. I’m sure the raw dough with the uncooked eggs was probably dicey. But there were seven of us kids. Who cared if a couple fell in the quest for the oatmeal cookie.
But my thoughts about the cookie haven’t involved the edible side of them.
No. It is all the cookie jargon. And there had been quite a bit. I wonder why this is? We don’t use other food items to this magnitude. Not most, at least.
For instance, when someone gets sick.
They toss their cookies. Why not pizza? Or chop suey.
No, it is the cookie that falls prey to this particular phrase.
Then there are the identifiers.
Boy, she sure is one smart cookie.
I would like to know what — out of the whole jar — makes one cookie smarter than the rest?
Or how about this phrase.
Boy, she is one tough cookie.
I’ve never had a tough cookie, so I don’t know how this one caught on either. I’ve had hard cookies, stale cookies. Even gross cookies. Like those pink or yellow wafer crunchy it-feels-like-they-are-fake cookies with the vanilla cream in the middle? But those aren’t tough. They are just gross.
Tough to eat, I suppose.
But then, for the cookie, there is the admission of guilt.
He got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Again, I am unclear as to why the cookie should be the target of this phrase.
They could have gotten their hand caught in the pretzel bag, for instance.
Or the bread box, the ice cream carton, or the butter tray.
But no. It is the cookie jar.
Then there is the technological.
Every time we go to a website, we have to download their cookies. And those cookies collect all sorts of data about us. Why the innocent cookie?
Why aren’t we downloading cupcakes? Or muffins?
Even apple pies.
The warning would say: This website uses muffins? Do you accept our use of muffins on this website?
Nope again. It’s cookies.
Even Sesame Street and The Muppets had to make a Monster out of this icon. While I like the Cookie Monster, I argue that it could have been anything. The Steak Monster. The Green Bean Monster.
Finally, the cruelest phrase of them all.
That’s the way the cookie crumbles.
And ironically, it is the answer to every question I’ve asked so far. Not only here, but a lot of places in life.
Unfortunately.
That’s the way the cookie crumbles.
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“The simple things are also the most extraordinary things, and only the wise can see them.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
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“By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and third by experience, which is the bitterest.”
― Confucious
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“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.”
― Rumi
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