Only one kind of cookie lives here. Dark chocolate dough, a soft vanilla centre, a crisp edge. We bake all day, so the batch is never more than a few minutes old.
In the spring of 2011 a retired pastry cook named Hob lit the stove in a corner shop and baked one recipe, over and over, until it was right. The neighbours noticed. First one child, then three, then the whole street, noses against the glass.
Today the stove is bigger, the window is the same, and the recipe has not moved an inch.
Every day from ten, until the last cookie is gone. Closed on public holidays.
No, and we are sorry. The queue is part of the fun and moves quickly, usually five to ten minutes.
Four days in the paper bag. A warm oven for two minutes brings back the crisp edge.
Egg, milk, gluten and soy. No nuts, but the chocolate comes from a factory that handles them.