Friday, February 9, 2007

An early Valentine to my sweet cookie

Dearest peanut-butter cookie from May Day Cafe,

I want to be honest with you. To be real. To be forthcoming. So here it is, dumped out like a sack full of miscellaneous knitting goods and wrinkled and stinky Target gym attire and single mittens and melted peppermint candies and pink, smeared post-it notes from when Clinton was king: I can't stop thinking about you. Not in that creepy co-dependent I've-idealized-you and I'm likely to begin cyber-stalking you kind of way. But in a way that's pure. Like you are. All-natural, sweet, palm-sized peanut-butter cookie.

You see, delicious cookie and brainchild of May Day Cafe owner Andy Lunning and his wonderful pastry chefs, sometimes you are my reason for waking. On the cold mornings when even that sweet fireball in the sky can't remove me from a bed made purely of down pillows and sticky cement, it is you, crumbly cookie, that frees me.

It is your delicious crunchiness. Your chewy center. Your slightly browned underbelly. Your perfect balance of salty and sweet goodness that's like passion and contentment—two dichotomies that when blended just right are pure nirvana. It is you, yummy cookie, who gives me hope each day.

That's what you are to me, peanut-butter cookie: the sweetest morning retreat. A happy interruption in-between seemingly endless complacency. A gigantic bite of possibility. Have I mentioned to you how perfect you are? Your lovingly forked and salted face the size of the moon. The crumbs you leave behind that are as easily devoured as that first bite. The salt and sugar I could literally lick off your awkwardly globe-shaped face. You just might be the best cookie ever created. And I feel so lucky to have finally met you.

I hope this doesn't freak you out, peanut-butter cookie. I hope that you will still be there for me every morning, staring longingly back at me from the glass pastry case at May Day Cafe in South Minneapolis. I hope I haven't come on too strong or sounded like a lovesick maniac or anything. Just remember that my love for you is as pure and good as you are, peanut-butter friend. Your all-natural goodness is as real as my never-ending love. No matter what happens, let's at least promise to be friends forever. Because I don't think I could ever live without you, my delicious and lovely peanut-butter pal.

May Day Cafe, 3440 Bloomington Ave. S., Minneapolis,

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