My mother's cookies were amazing, and she knew it. So much so that she refused to tell anyone her recipe, which I understood, sure. But I felt that if anyone was going to get the recipe, it was me.
So I had to get creative. Every time she made them, I would ask a question about it, something small, like how she got the chocolate chips to melt like that.
But after a while, I realised she was giving conflicting answers, and I gave up, and told her so.
Then I found the frozen cookie dough wrappers in her trash.
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