Pomegranate Cookie Novels & Stories

She is the female figure I look up to after my mother's passing. Mrs. Garcia can cook just about anything, and she makes the most delicious Portuguese custard tarts (Pasteis de Nata) there is, my favorite. I asked her to add it to the picnic snack list, along with some Caprese Sandwiches (juicy tomatoes, creamy mozzarella, and fresh basil sandwich), Baba Ganoush, and fresh pita bread. The weather is supposed to be a bit chilly tonight, so I had Mrs. Garcia to fill a thermos jug with a hot pomegranate blackcurrant peach green tea with wildflowers' honey. Everything is about ready with two blankets, a couple of cylinder-shaped candles, two cups, and a lighter added to the picnic basket. After

I make a mean pumpkin pie sugar cookie, "he adds, and she perks up. "Pumpkin pie sugar cookie? I never heard of that. Can we bake together sometime?"He nodded as she talked food the next hour. When dad and Roman entered, both looked calm but I knew that fuck got an ass whooping. Dad nodded at us, and I knew they paid him a visit to get the rage out. Roman looked at Eve as she talked with Bow, and I saw him relax at her cute giggles. "We sure can, and I will even write the recipe down so you can try it." He winks, and she giggles again. Roman walks over and pats her head.

"I'm sorry, Luna. Forgive me for not reading for your mood." Fuck this guilt! "Fine," I groaned. "I'll try them." Her face instantly lit up and she opened my door with one hand. "I baked them myself, also made the juice too. Pineapple and orange, just how you like it!" "Thank you!" I smiled, the sound of my favorite drink bringing a little light back into my soul. I sat on my bed and placed the tray on my lap, a moan escaped my lips as I bit into the cookie.

I had specifically ordered Amanda to pick pomegranates from the garden. That's what Diana tastes like. That’s what she smelled like down there, and that's all I'm fucking craving right now. I'm addicted. I'd rather eat those till the next time I get the chance to eat her again. "I'm not exactly hungry, Mom," I say, just to get her off my back. Amanda comes in, carrying a golden plate of those pomegranates. She sets the plate down on the table. "Freshly picked and washed, sir.”

“Thanks.” “Of course.” The woman placed the plate back on the table and found her seat again. Still smiling kindly, she asked, “Are you one of the girls from Michaelanburg?” Rain had just bitten into the cookie. The woman was right. It was delicious. The texture of the oats mingling with the plump fruit sent a burst of flavor through her mouth. She chewed quickly so that she could answer, but she’d certainly be finishing this scrumptious delight. “I am,” she said, once her mouth was mostly empty.

“I’m a paying customer.” “He’s getting that to go, Spider,” Mirrie said, ignoring Shane completely. “No, he’s not, Spider.” Mac eyed the pastries piled up in front of him. “Wow. Those smell good. Fresh-baked?” “Yep,” Spider said. “I made ‘em myself this morning. You want something?” “Sure do,” Mac said. “Maybe a few croissants? And a blueberry muffin and… ummm, let’s see… those white chocolate chip cookies look amazing.” He glanced at Mirrie, remembering how much she loved sweet stuff. “Three of those.”

"I am fine though, I want to meet you. It feels like we met ages ago." "Don't say like that. We can come over right now if you wish to see us so much, mom." "No dear. It might disrupt your plans for tonight. I think I am going to plan a dinner together and then I will invite you to join." "That's a great idea. I would love that." "Hmm. Oh, how about the problem of acidity you were facing last time?" "Ah. It's slightly better. But it is still there." "Oh. Why don't you try pomegranates? It contains 40% of vitamin C."

Even Charlie ran to snatch one. “Hey! Charlie, don’t think I don’t know you already ate an entire tray!” Adrian scolded, all while also joining the cookie heist! While everyone enjoyed their unfair share of cookies, they all complimented the flavor. “The pistachio is the perfect match,” Riley muttered. “No wonder my husband didn’t want to share.” “I absolutely loved the cookie dough,” Freya remarked. “It went so well with the crunchiness of the nuts!” “Love it, dude! Love it!” Kian said while chewing down his last piece. “You gotta sell these at your farm’s shop.”

Opening the bin of peanut butter cookies I made this morning, or maybe yesterday since I still don’t know what day it is, I count them. There are eleven. I made twelve. And I haven’t eaten one yet. But peanut butter cookies happen to be a favorite of Aaron Kensington’s.

Anna looked over her menu, when the server came to take their order. “I’ll have the fesenjan, please.” Anna pointed to the photo on the menu. The sever and Nate both looked at Anna puzzled. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, we don’t have whatever you said on the menu.” “What do you mean?,” Anna pointed to the photo “It’s right here, fesenjan – stew made with pomegranate paste and ground walnuts with chicken. Are you out of it?” Nate took the menu from Anna and looked at where she had pointed, and handed it back.