Why I Broke Up with the Cookie

A lot of people have a love affair with the cookie. They live and die for this sugary delight.

I was not one of them. 

At least, so I thought. If you asked me whether I like cookies, I would have shrugged and said “Eh, whatever”. 

However, in the same way advertisements creep into our subconscious without our knowledge, I developed an invisible love affair with the cookie without knowing about it.

Supermarket or Heaven?

When I went to the supermarket in the US for the first time, I thought I had gone to heaven. 

The store was huge, and seemed to have every product in the world. The food section was most fascinating. And I am not a foodie. The selection of chips, cookies and other ready-to-eat snacks was mouth-watering. In particular, the Chips Ahoy cookies seemed to be pleading with me to buy them.

Long story short: Chips Ahoy chewy cookies became part and parcel of my grocery shopping trips.

Free Snacks at Work

I was overweight most of my life. In the summer of 2005, though, I was in good shape. Right before I joined my first job, a summer internship. 

One of the job’s perks was free snacks in the snack room. Chips. Soda. Pretzels. And of course, cookies. 

Two months and tons of snacks later: My body had become a balloon.

One Milano Follows Another

I was never a calorie counter. My brother, who came to the US to study in 2006, introduced me to the concept of calories. (I know, being in the US, I should have been the one to teach him this. Go figure.)

Back to the subject at hand. Milano was a fancy cookie brand – slightly more pricier than Chips Ahoy, and with fewer cookies in a box. Around 10 or so. In comparison, Chips Ahoy had 60 or so cookies in a box.

One afternoon, I was watching TV and had the box of Milano cookies by my side. Half an hour later, I was watching TV and had an empty box of Milano cookies by my side. 

Out of curiosity, I checked how many calories I had wolfed down.

1200.

To put it in context, the total calorie intake per day is 1500 – 2500.

Baking Cookies for the Neighborhood Christmas Party

I had never baked a cookie in my life. More accurately, I had never baked anything.

My friend called me over to help bake cookies for their neighborhood Christmas Party. It was a potluck of sorts; each family would bring one item for the party. My friend and his children signed up to bake cookies.

We kneaded the dough. Beat the eggs (I still ate eggs at that time. I stopped eating eggs later in life). Kept the sugar ready.

My friend asked his daughter to bring the butter. And she brought the butter. Two sticks of butter.

TWO BIG STICKS OF BUTTER. 

I did not know all that butter went inside the cookie. The rest of the evening, all that came out of my mouth was “two sticks of butter”, in shocked tones.

Growing up, my Mom made food without butter and oil. Healthy food was the mantra in my Mom’s kitchen. Butter was taboo. I could swear and curse if I wanted to, but I could not mention butter. (I’m joshing of course — swearing and cursing would have gotten me thrown out of the kitchen, as well).

Happy Ending

When I purchased the finished product, I was happy devouring cookies. The minute I saw all that butter go inside, it was enough to make me develop a healthy aversion to the cookie. 

And just like that, my invisible love affair with the cookie came to an abrupt halt. I’ve never had the same fascination for the cookie again.

It’s not me, cookie, it’s you. 

Image Credit: Vyshnavi Bisani from Unsplash