Big Cookie
“We can go bigger,” Baker Nell said.
“We’ve got to,” Baker Sue said.
Along with their team of twenty-nine other bakers, the two head chefs pushed aside their largest attempt at The World’s Biggest Cookie yet, and started over.
The prize was theirs to win this year. In the past, rival bakeries from around the world had swept the floor with them. Not this year. This was Geraldine Hanscomb’s Historic Brickoven Bakeries’ year to shine.
The old place almost burned to the ground in the Attempt of ‘87. Most blamed the teenagers Nell and Sue enlisted to help. Nell and Sue blamed Milo Fox Bakeries in Detroit. They just knew he’d sabotaged them somehow.
The Crumbling Cookie Catastrophe of 2002 was another gargantuan embarrassment. When you leave out key ingredients, the cookie suffers. The entire town looked on as judges cut into the football field-sized cookie. No one expected to be finding crumbs in the turf the following Homecoming game.
This year would be different. It had to be their best. There were no do overs, no second, third, or fifth chances. Hushed whispers and open gossip confirmed what most suspected. Nell was getting too old, and Sue’s health was failing fast. The baking besties had just one last shot at the coveted silk apron before they hung up their chef’s hats for good.
Which is why it shocked the town when the two professionals took out a full page ad in the Hanscomb Herald requesting the help of any and all able bodied bakers. They listed qualifications which were few.
Familiar with oven temperature settings.
Able to lift between twelve and twenty pounds.
Steady balance preferred, but not required.
They might have added ‘old enough to know better, still too young to care’ but the paper went to press. Copies fluttered through the streets and posters were plastered on telephone poles all over town. The combined effort of a quarter million bakers got underway.
People came from miles around to collect their flour sack of premixed supplies from Geraldine Hanscomb’s Historic Brickoven Bakery. A line of cars stretched around the block, up to the A&P, and further on to the city hall. The Mayor himself came to get in on the action. He made a speech, took his portion, and headed home to start baking.
On the morning the judges arrived, everyone in town showed up with identical results. Each glistening silver tray was filled with the secret recipe Nell and Sue developed over the past forty years. Precise portions baked to perfection rose just above the lips of baking sheets. Brown-sugar toasted-tan skin freckled with chocolate morsels paraded through the streets. People made their way to Henry Major’s field just outside of town. The parcel of land had been prepared for just this moment.
Anyone who didn’t bake, along with many who did, helped organize the procession into a cookie construction crew. Oven wide cookies were removed from trays and laid side by side atop parchment paper, atop three layers of plastic sheeting, atop a groomed and leveled field that lay fallow since spring.
By late afternoon the last pieces were placed at the far corners of the field. The judges took their final measurements, sampled the delightful treat, and deliberated. After just one hour they climbed back into their black sedans and drove away.
The fabulous day ended with a fair amount of folks breaking off chunks of cookie to carry home. Still, there was so much left behind that Mr. Major swore he’d be tilling it under for three seasons.
The entire town awaited word from the judges. They tuned in to watch The World’s Biggest Cookie official announcement on TV. When it came time for the final verdict to be handed down, no one moved a muscle. Big men in bars stopped dunking cookies in milk. Little boys and girls up past bedtime tried not to be noticed. Wives drew close to husbands, and seniors held hands with nurses. The town that came together to build the biggest cookie in the world waited. Breathless. Anticipating.
“This year’s award for World’s Biggest Cookie goes to Geraldine Hanscomb’s Historic Brickoven Bakery of Hanscomb, Indiana!” The judges held up a portion of the gigantic sheet cookie, less a few bites from the edges.
VICTORY! The entire town erupted in cheers and whoops as gunshots and banging pots rang out through the air.
Away in a quiet corner of town, where historic buildings sat waiting for tourists and such, two old bakers sat silent in their kitchen. They didn’t hear the grand announcement. Baker Nell leaned against one side of a massive butchers block table. Baker Sue leaned against the other. Their arms stretched out to one another. Dearest friends. The two worked so hard together over the years. They poured their lives into this day.
They were discovered there, hands clasped in loving-friendship. Two baking sisters whose hearts couldn’t contain the excitement of creating their last big cookie together.
THE END