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It was a daunting task — 10 6-foot-long tables laid out in front of the judges at this year’s San Mateo County Fair, covered with plates of baked goods in dozens of categories. If you listened carefully you could just hear the cakes and cookies dreaming about being named “Best in Show” (Pick me! No, PICK ME!).
Without further ado the judges, in pairs, with clipboards in hand, began to dig in.
My teammate and I were assigned to cookies. There were legions of them: dropped, fancy, bars, chocolate chip. Endless varieties. My colleague is a registered nutritionist, and I am a graduate of culinary school. Right away we realized we were well matched, because we agreed on a precise plan of attack: first a careful look (on both top and bottom), then check for visual consistency (high points there) and an appetizing appearance.
Then came the tasting; we’d cut or break them in half, then take judicious bites (there would be a LOT of sugar ahead). So many styles, types and flavors to try. We’d agreed beforehand to provide written feedback to each entrant, starting with positive comments and when necessary, offer constructive criticism. They deserved that much for their effort to register, bake and then deliver their wares to the culinary department in the days before the fair opened.
About halfway through our assigned tables, wondering if a diabetic coma was on the horizon, we came upon THE COOKIE.
First thing we noticed was the careful and thorough packaging of the entry. One of us began to say, “Wow, she really took care in packing these” and the other said, “This was NOT her first rodeo! Then, we saw the cookies: consistent size and shape, and when turned over, perfectly baked. Going by description, as modest as can be. But then we took a bite. And then we took another bite. By the third bite (unusual with so many cookies) we looked at each other, eyes wide open. All observations were positive, and the overall impression was that this cookie could win it all. And it was a humble oatmeal cookie. How could an oatmeal cookie be this good?
Hearing our enthusiasm, other judges came over. With each bite, faces lit up. Every single judge, all eight of us, thought the texture was perfect and “the chew” was unrivaled. Best of the day. This oatmeal cookie also featured two different types of raisins, the golden ones lifted the flavor so the overall taste wasn’t too sweet. And there were chocolate chips, but not too many.
This cookie blew all the judges’ minds. No one didn’t love it. The name of the entry was “Oatmeal Nutty Fruity Chocolate Chip.” We recommended it for special recognition, and while we don’t know who finally won best in show, this cookie stole all our hearts. The proof was that we had to struggle to ensure we had ONE cookie left for exhibition in the glass cases — otherwise every single crumb would have been eaten.
The moral of this story is: Don’t sell the modest, unassuming ones short.
You never know. That cookie could win the whole shebang.
Mary Ann Mullen is a longtime Peninsula resident who lives in Menlo Park and is a graduate of the Institute of Culinary Education in New York, which she did “just for fun.”
