baked cookies - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The cookies are more peanut than flour and dotted with chocolate chips. The surface is crackled as the earth is in late summer, softly golden and awaiting the rain.
I've been eating the air as the cookies bake, the aroma bringing a hunger to me that I wasn't aware of earlier... or perhaps it's new. So I let my feet take me to the kitchen and my eyes feast on the cookies that are almost ready, they will come out soft and hot, yet in a few minutes they'll be perfection.
Baked cookies tumble over the plate, a smattering of crumbs in the sunlit sheen. Rosie digs out the mesh covering an places it over the top. Their buttery flavour will be all the better for knowing that the summer blue-bottles haven't dined first. Unlike their store bought counterparts they are irregular in shape and size, still mostly round but with enough imperfections to be perfect. Leon mixed the batter by hand and shaped each one on the parchment, and for that they will taste all the sweeter.
Baked cookies of every kind layer the bakery counter. From white chocolate and macadamia nut right through to sprouted grains and wheat germ, there really is something for everyone. Yet it isn't the "grown-up" treats that catch my eye, it's the gingerbread men and their gum-drop buttons. From this store they are a far cry from the biscuit-like ones of my youth, the ones so crunchy you could hear the bite from a block away. These ones are softer, the ginger more pronounced as as moreish as anything I've ever tasted.
Travis read the description of the cookies one more time. If he could eat what the package described he'd be in cookie heaven; only problem was that the writer had either never sampled the product or been paid too much to care about the inaccuracy. If these were "fresh baked cookies with real butter" he'd eat his own socks, and for that matter (with all that mature cheese) they might even taste better.
Though the kitchen is just as it was when I left in the morning, spotless and bright, the aroma gives away the presence of fresh baked cookies. Before my eyes swivel around, lip gently bitten in anticipation, I know the glass jar is full and the chips are still molten. The lid lies casually next the them allowing the warm moisture to escape and right next to that is a post-it note with a single heart drawn on top.
Their aromatic fragrance overpowered every other scent that lingered in the room. Its delectable aroma pervaded the air- a melange of honey dew, orange preserves and dabs of crackling nuts. So very tempting to grab and simply indulge in this decadent pleasure, or to merely inhale the gorgeous scent it emanated from its baked, warm depths. Taking the first bite, a delightful flavor flooded my mouth, and my senses basked in its luscious taste. There was a friable crunch, tangs of zest, pangs of acidity, all to coalesce to form a truly delicious dish- orange honey baked cookies
My nose had acclimatized to the smell of the cookies as they baked, but once I opened the oven I was hit by a brick wall of cookie-smell. Momentarily stunned, I neglected to take an oven glove and proceeded to burn my hand on the oven. By the time I was done running my hand under cold water, the cookies had burned. Oh, well. The tops were still tasty.
Ahhh, the smell of freshly baked cookies. Is there anything more delightful after a hard day of school to come home to a plate of delicious cookies? There are so many different types, from the typical chocolate chip to the exotic.
His grandma made the best cookies. He always asked how she made them so tasty. She always said "I have been making cookies for so long I know what will make the best cookies." Today he would spy on her cookie recipe, he had brought a security camera. It cost him $400, but it was worth it. He would be able to find out what grandma used to make her delicious cookies. He looked at his screen. She had started making her cookies. He wrote down everything she did and used. After she finished, he wrote down how long she baked the cookies for. He came down to try the cookies. They where disgusting, grandma walked up to him and said "You will need to try harder to get my recipe." His heart plummeted, he had brought a four hundred dollar camera for nothing.
After spending hours baking they were ready. The soft smell of my sweet treats teased my nose. The scent lingering, inviting. Topmost layer an incredible shade of amber, they were cracked on the surface, like a dry desert ground. But inside they weren't dry. A satisfactory crunch lingered by my ears as they entered my mouth, only to crumble and melt on the inside, so deliciously tasty that my taste buds tingled. Once bit past the turtle's shell, a silky, fragile intern broken free, a hidden secret revealed. Indescribable pleasure pulsed through me. They were my creation. They were incredible.