So there I was in the Costco bakery.
I was going to buy something.
While I decided, I watched the busy bakers pull giant muffin trays out of equally giant ovens. The smell is intoxicating.
I love the Costco bakery. It’s a place of anticipation. A place of promise.
Moderately priced priced baked goods inflated to Herculean portions–it’s like getting a “Golden Ticket” except I’m not burdened with a sadistic Wonka making a morality play of the experience.
I am however burdened with a cholesterol of 335 (a good 135 points above acceptable, or so I’m told).
Saddled with that number and a family history of early exists–I fear my love for mammoth baked goods, is a love that was never meant to be.
So I equivocate–perhaps a five pound key lime pie is excessive; I guess I don’t really need a 12544 calorie chocolate cake (that’s actually true, sad, and true).
I told you though, I was determined to get something awesome. Instead, I got the most banal of baked goods, I got chocolate chip cookies.
They’re good, but my god it felt like a failure when I bought them.
The failure was complete when I ate two in the parking lot.
The worst part, I spent well over a hundred dollars there today. Other than beer and cookies I can’t for the life of me think of what I bought.