The edge was crispy, leading into a chewy middle. Layers of flavor harmonized in a symphony.
Willow was right. The first cookie with the frosting was too much. There was beauty in simplicity.
Willow’s eyes went wide after the first bite, and she began to nod profusely. “This is the one. Perfect ten.”
Yeah. She was.
“It’s classic,” she said around the second bite. “No bells and whistles. Just a solid fucking cookie.” She wiped the crumbs from her fingers. “I should be full after that many cookies, but I could eat a dozen more of those.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice.
I took her hand, and we marched right back into the bakeshop. An older lady was behind the counter this time, sweeping up as they neared closing. Willow’s face fell as soon as she spotted the empty cookie tray.
“How can I help you?” the older lady said with a smile as she propped the broom against the wall.
“Any chance you’ll have more cookies today?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not today,” she said as she adjusted the name tag that said “Lily.”
Willow’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. Okay.”
“But we’ll have more tomorrow morning, bright and early,” Lily said.
“Thanks, but we’re just passing through,” I said. “They were the best cookies we’ve ever had.”
She smirked. “They should be. My daughter’s name is on the bakery, but the recipes are mine. Wait here.”
We froze at Lily’s order.
A minute later, we were on our way out the door with a hand-written recipe for chocolate chip cookies. After a quick stop at a grocery store for ingredients, Willow and I headed back to the house.
She triaged the ingredients while I preheated the oven and pawed around for a sheet pan.
“I have a feeling that these aren’t going to be as good as Lily’s,” Willow said as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and popped the sticks of butter in the microwave to soften.
I grabbed a mixing bowl and measured the dark brown sugar and white sugar. Willow grabbed the butter from the microwave and added it to the sugars, then cracked the eggs into a separate bowl.
I creamed the butter and sugar with a hand-held mixer until it turned pale, then held the bowl steady while Willow dropped in the eggs one by one, and added the vanilla. By the time the batter had blended, she had measured out the dry ingredients into a little bowl.
She sidled up to me and started to shimmy the dry ingredients into the butter, sugar, and eggs as I mixed it in, but it fell in an avalanche.
Willow shrieked in surprise, and accidentally dumped the rest into the beaters.
Flour flung in a tornado of white dust, billowing into the air, coating us and every nearby surface.
I yanked the mixer out of the dough before I thought to turn it off. Dough flung off the metal beaters, coating us like stuccoed walls.
“Turn it off!” Willow laughed as she held her hands out to block the flurry of cookie dough.
I cut the power and looked at her. Flour dusted her cheeks and nose. There was cookie dough all over her neck and chest. I’m sure I didn’t fare any better.
But there were clear flour-free creases around the corners of her eyes where she had been smiling.
And that made it all worth it.
“Yeah, I don’t think these are going to be as good as Lily’s,” I said through my own laughter. I wiped my hands on my T-shirt and cupped her cheeks, drawing her closer. “Come here.”
Willow’s eyes creased at the corners as I smoothed my thumbs over her cheeks, wiping the flour away.
