Heat radiating from a kitchen oven, the fragrance of cookie dough, of chopped walnuts and melting dark chocolate chips: thus begins many of my fondest childhood memories.
And it’s not only that chocolate is my greatest vice in life, perhaps even my greatest ‘sin.’ Figuratively. You know, I can romanticize a little. Some might even find the analogy appropriate, especially since I can gulp a pound at a time without an ounce of guilt.
And it doesn’t take me twelve hours to absorb a batch of cookies, even as I futilely attempt to make them last as long as possible. No, I’m not writing about confession, but artistry, the titillation of taste buds, memories and, above all else, you. (After all, who else would I expect to read this?)