You also know that of all the food in the world, I obsess over cookies the most. Specifically Girl Scout cookies. I even wrote an entire post about accidentally throwing two Samoas into my office garbage can and the mental anguish that ensued. In that post I wrote that I hoped people might send me cookies in the mail, but it was a joke, like all of my sexually suggestive references to Clive Owen (it's not like I hope he has Google Alert on his own name and reads them and gets inexplicably aroused, haha, but seriously Clive, call me.)
But you guys.
SOMEONE SENT ME COOKIES IN THE MAIL.
It started with an email:
So, my name is Sandy. aka Sweet Sandy B.
I've been following your blog for a little while now and frankly, you crack my shit up.
I have this little side gig going on--I bake and decorate cakes (hence the Sweet Sandy B)
Every once in a while you give your thoughts on different items your readers/fans send you. I've been dancing around sending you some cookies for a while because I'm afraid of rejection. Being brutally honest. Let me know if I may send you some to sample.I am not good at playing hard to get. I replied so fast my email looked like a breathless preteen's Youtube comment on a Justin Bieber video:
SANDY!!!!!!!!! OMG I LOVE COOOOKIES!!! EVEN IF YOU MADE THEM OUT OF BROKEN GLASS AND COW PATTIES AND BITS OF DISCARDED WEAVES I WOULD LOVE THEM LOLZ OH PLEASE MAIL THEM RIGHT AWAY. I MIGHT EVEN SEND A MESSENGER--THE MIDWEST'S NOT THAT FAR RIGHT? JEFF LOVES LONG WALKS.Less than a week later, I arrived home to find a box of homemade cookies (chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin oatmeal raisins with pecans) and a sweet little note on polka dot stationery. I wish I could say that I sat down with a plate of cookies and shot glasses full of milk, tasting everything slowly and thoughtfully, forming impressions for a thorough review while listening to classical music, or at least some classic Motown.
But actually what happened is like that scene from I Love Lucy when Lucy and Ethel are working in the candy factory, except in my case there was no conveyor belt and thus no real reason for me to stuff multiple cookies into my mouth, down my shirt, and into my hat while half-watching Billy Bush interview Donny Osmond on Access Hollywood.
Only in retrospect did it occur to me that a photo of the package might have been nice. I hope Sandy takes it as a compliment that I was too busy eating her delicious goods to properly document them. Here, however, is a photo from her blog, Sweet Sandy B. Bakes:
Sandy's cookies are almost as high as they are wide, forming perfect, pillowy globes that are crispy on the outside and ever-so-slightly chewy inside (in my view, the perfect cookie consistency). Her chocolate chip cookies are perfection--packed with chips, sweet but not cloying, and satisfyingly crispy without being tough. (Look at me, I'm like Frank fucking Bruni!) Oatmeal raisin cookies have never been my favorites (due to lack of chocolate), but Sandy's won me over, especially with the pecans. Less rich than the chocolate chip variety, they were a lovely palate cleanser, which I especially needed after staring for so long at Donny Osmond. What is up with his face? Does he drink the blood of virgins?
Anyway, after eating her cookies I got to reading Sandy's blog, which made me like her even more. She's a spunky, adorable, tattooed Midwestern mom who makes amazingly sculptural cakes that look like they belong on a Food Network show. She also shares a recipe for a cake that's topped with one and a half sticks of butter--I think maybe we are soul mates.
If you love baking, need baked goods, or even just want to read a funny, fresh voice I suggest you check her out. She accepts orders via Facebook or email and you can follow her on Twitter @SweetSandyB.
I hope this serves as a lesson to all of you about how much good can come of sending me food in the mail. I need something to eat while I wait for the Pajama Jeans peeps to get back to me.