Ah, to resist the temptation of grabbing some freshly baked cookies still waiting to cool down…
You know, it’s kind of embarrassing, but I might as well tell the story of how I once got the moniker “Harf the cookie dwarf”.
I was only a wee lad once, with just a stubbly hint of a beard, but already a well developed sweet tooth. We had a community oven in Hofenstadt that the families used, a steady fire smoldering throughout and foods being baked from savory to sweet. But of all the foods, not one would put a spell on me such as a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Like wisps of vanilla, cocoa and toasty aromas would manifest into solid force and drag me by the collar, away from whatever occupied my mind at that time. One time, there they were, sitting on a shelf, slowly solidifying into a crunchy crust with a gooey center, unattended, unguarded. I took my chances, grabbed some and ran. But who am I but a clumsy dwarf, my dexterity only extends to carving stone or wrangling an instrument, not to stealthing and thieving! I turned a corner, eyes on the prize but not on the floor, tripped, and took a spill so epic over some hot coals from an open fire, it would almost warrant a song being written about it. In the end I had no sweets, but the scolding of some elders, burn marks on the side of my belly that are still visible to this day, and a veritable mountain of embarrassment. For quite a while all the other kids would tease me: “Harf, Harf, the cookie dwarf!”… I kinda don’t like to think about it, but I do like to remember those glorious cookies…