The Cookie

Never before had I experienced a snack food that truly reveled in its mediocrity. The cookie was a Pepperidge Farm Soft Baked Captiva. Although I believe Pepperidge Farm intended the cookie to captivate me in a whirl of dark chocolate brownie bliss, the only thing that captivated me was its mediocrity. When I took the first bite I was a little surprised that it didn't taste as good as the other Pepperidge Farm cookies, but it didn't taste bad either. I couldn't describe any more and so I took another bite. Now at this point if it had been a bad cookie, anyone with any sense of taste or smell would have thrown the cookie away (yes I do have an excellent palate). But it wasn't a bad cookie. It certainly wasn't any good though. I'm not sure what it was, but the cookie began to grow on me. It's possible that deep down I actually liked the cookie, but I think it's more likely that it was such a curious feeling that I wanted to experience it some more. And so, I downed the cookie, relishing the mediocre flavor.

Now, I should probably give a little more background to this story. The cookies had actually been sitting in the back of my friend's Volvo for quite a while. Maybe it was the magic of the leather, early springtime sun and Swedish engineering, but I doubt Pepperidge Farm is capable of making the quintessential mediocre cookie. I mean, they're good, but they're not that good.