I bit into the chocolate chip. Slowed myself down.By then, almost a week in, I could sort through the assault of layers a little more quickly. The chocolate chips were from a factory, so they had that same slight metallic, absent taste to them, and the butter had been pulled from cows in pens, so the richness was not as full. The eggs were tinged with a hint of far away and plastic. All of those parts hummed in the distance, and then the baker, who'd mixed the batter and formed the dough, was angry. A tight anger, in the cookie itself.
by Aimee Bender
(0 Reviews)

The narrator reflects on experiencing a chocolate chip cookie, focusing on the complexity and quality of its ingredients. The chocolate chips, produced in a factory, lack freshness, while the butter derived from cows in restrictive environments diminishes its richness. The eggs contribute a distant, artificial flavor. As the narrator savors the cookie, they notice a palpable tension, suggesting that not only the ingredients but also the emotions of the baker infuse the final product.

This insight into food reveals a deeper relationship between consumption and the emotions tied to creation. The cookie becomes a medium through which the narrator explores the feelings of others, suggesting that every bite carries layers of experience and sentiment. The interplay of flavors, textures, and emotions illustrates how even mundane items like cookies can reflect deeper human conditions.

Stats

Author
Votes
0
Page views
2
Update
January 29, 2025

Rate the Quote

Add Comment & Review

User Reviews

Based on 0 reviews
5 Star
0
4 Star
0
3 Star
0
2 Star
0
1 Star
0
Add Comment & Review
We'll never share your email with anyone else.
More »

Other quotes in The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake

More »

Popular quotes

My life amounts to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean. Yet what is any ocean, but a multitude of drops?
by David Mitchell
A half-read book is a half-finished love affair.
by David Mitchell
The pollenless trees were genomed to repel bugs and birds; the stagnant air reeked of insecticide.
by David Mitchell
Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.
by David Mitchell
Travel far enough, you meet yourself.
by David Mitchell
I believe there is another world waiting for us. A better world. And I'll be waiting for you there.
by David Mitchell
A random sequence of seemingly unrelated events.
by David Mitchell
People pontificate, "Suicide is selfishness." Career churchmen like Pater go a step further and call in a cowardly assault on the living. Oafs argue this specious line for varying reason: to evade fingers of blame, to impress one's audience with one's mental fiber, to vent anger, or just because one lacks the necessary suffering to sympathize. Cowardice is nothing to do with it - suicide takes considerable courage. Japanese have the right idea. No, what's selfish is to demand another to endure an intolerable existence, just to spare families, friends, and enemies a bit of soul-searching.
by David Mitchell
You say you're 'depressed' - all i see is resilience. You are allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn't mean you're defective - it just means you're human.
by David Mitchell
Books don't offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.
by David Mitchell