For the Love of Chocolate Chips

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Well, here’s a true story, and I am not making it up one bit.  Ok, it is mostly true.

Many years ago, way before you were a thought, there lived a lady named Ruth Wakefield. She looked exactly like this:

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Ruth was a happy-go-lucky woman without a care in the world.  She dreamed of chocolate cakes and perfectly moist cookies sprinkled with just the right amount of confectioners sugar. Folk traveled from all over the world to taste her delicious desserts at the Toll House Inn, owned by her chubby little husband, Kenneth.  One day, disaster struck.  As part of her daily routine, Ruth created an industrial sized batch of cookie dough.  She pried open her cabinet and reached for the required amount of baker’s chocolate and lo!  There was none to be found!

Ruth was beside herself with anger and self-doubt.  She cursed the day she ever stepped into a kitchen wearing her red itchy apron, stained with cookie dough and splattered with egg yolks (she and Kenneth occasionally held food fight festivals at the inn.  It was good for business).  She recalled with horror the day she splurged on extra sharp kitchen knives.  She cried and she hollered, yet none of her antics helped her to create the essential item she so desired – baker’s chocolate.

Seeing that the baking fairy had abandoned her, indefinitely, Ruth turned inward, realizing the need for improvisation.  She  took out her guitar and sang to the Spirits of Baking, who are known to help singing bakers.  But alas, the spirits, too, had abandoned Ruth in her time of need.

In disgust, Ruth grabbed the nearest bar of Nestle’s semi-sweet chocolate, chopped it up into small morsels, and baked her cookies.  “To hell with it all!”  She hollered at no one in particular.  She expected the pieces of chocolate to melt into the cookie dough just like baker’s chocolate.  However, the chocolate did not melt.  The small morsels retained their individuality, yet became moist and gooey.

Ruth served the cookies fearfully.  To her surprise, the guests were enthralled by the cookies and begged her for more.  She dutifully baked 70 more batches and fed them to her ravenous guests.  Her guests gained 10 pounds each over the weekend, and became addicted to chocolate.  Ten are still alive to tell the story.  I’m just kidding, they all died of old age.

And that is how chocolate chips were created.

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About Miranda S. Wrightz

I breath one breath at a time, like a normal mermaid.

16 responses to “For the Love of Chocolate Chips

  1. To tell a tale fully with earnestness, Ruth has inspired me in many ways. Call me a sap, but her sweet eyes just melt my cold cruel unfeeling heart till it’s no longer cold cruel and unfeeling but the opposite of cold cruel and unfeeling. For this, I lovingly thank her dear parents, Jethro and Tyron, the first same sex couple recorded in history to allow their firstborn daughter to bake this gooey goodness, though it went against every fiber upon which they rested their scrawny behinds upon.
    Partial inequity leads to suppositories

  2. Marinkanda, I have always believed that the reconstruction of intermetamorphasis relaxants paired with the teeming of a highly relapsation of glactic forwardization in education and muscle extrapolation would lead to the extreme refusal of incidental analysis and confirmation. Your comment proves, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this theory still stands the test of time. Thank you for this clarity.

  3. Chana

    Ok now I want to bake chocolate chip cookies!

  4. Lol, if you do, send some my way 🙂

  5. I belatedly objectify to your absurd generalization that this highly true and relevant to everything worldwide particularly peace in the Middle East occurred before I was a thought. I am 308 years of age tomorrow. Kindly edit your post.
    Yours, Charlie Parsippany Spartaculous

  6. Pingback: For the Love of Chocolate Chips | cupcakesruletheatmosphere

  7. And now you choose to rub in the fact that Charlie cannot see. It is I, hi manservant recording this for him. I am six,

  8. Is that comma after the six significant?

  9. Read into it and you shall see.
    A comma is but a curved period,
    as a pad is to a period of the other sort.
    #forseriousyoumaydeletemycommentsperhapsyoumust

  10. She looked like pixles..?

    What an interesting woman she must have been..

  11. She actually morphed between her three favorite forms: pixels, flesh and blood human, and sometimes a bobcat. She was a vampire on bad days.

  12. Thank you for bringing up this pertinent fact.

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