The insistent beeping of the high-tech oven was quickly overshadowed by the faint but distinct smell of burning sugar. Smoke, no longer faint, curled ominously from the oven vents.
"Time's up!" Jun-Jun announced brightly, seemingly oblivious to the smoke signals. "Let's see our creations!"
Mang George, anticipating the need for thermal protection when dealing with his employer's culinary endeavors, instantly produced two pairs of thick, professional-grade oven mitts. Migs cautiously put on a pair, while Jun-Jun grabbed his with enthusiasm.
"Okay, easy does it," Migs warned as Jun-Jun reached for his baking sheet.
Jun-Jun pulled it out with a flourish. The reality was even more spectacular than the view through the oven door had suggested. What had once been large, individual blobs of dough had melted and fused into a single, enormous, undulating cookie entity covering nearly the entire sheet. Its edges were dark brown, bordering on black, while the vast center looked suspiciously pale and doughy. It resembled a topographical map of a volcanic island, mid-eruption. Smoke wafted gently from the darkest peaks.
"Ta-da!" Jun-Jun presented it proudly. "The Mega-Cookie! Look at that structural integrity!"
Migs peered at it. "Structural integrity? Jun-Jun, it looks like a failed terraforming project." He carefully slid out his own baking sheet. His cookies were smaller, separate, and mostly an even golden brown, though perhaps a little flat. "Mine, at least, resemble actual cookies."
Mang George calmly switched off the oven and activated a powerful, yet surprisingly quiet, ventilation system that quickly cleared the remaining smoke from the kitchen. He produced cooling racks and spatulas.
"The moment of truth!" Jun-Jun declared. Using a large spatula (wielded somewhat precariously), he attempted to lift the Mega-Cookie. It cracked, predictably, revealing a gooey, undercooked center beneath the burnt crust. He managed to transfer several large, jagged shards onto a cooling rack, leaving a slightly scorched outline on the expensive baking sheet. Migs easily transferred his intact cookies onto another rack.
They stood contemplating the results. Jun-Jun's Mega-Cookie shards looked dubious at best. Migs' cookies looked... edible.
"Okay, taste test!" Jun-Jun broke off a piece of his creation – choosing a less burnt edge. He bit into it. His eyes widened, then narrowed. He chewed thoughtfully.
"Well?" Migs prompted, hesitantly picking up one of his own cookies.
"Hmm," Jun-Jun mumbled, still chewing. "Intriguing texture profile. Notes of... carbon... hints of raw flour... underlying essence of premium Venezuelan chocolate trying desperately to assert itself." He swallowed. "Needs work. Maybe less... tectonic merging? And more... even heat distribution?" He pointed at the oven. "Mang George, we need to recalibrate the 'Volcanic Rock Emulation' setting for future batches."
"Noted, sir," Mang George replied impassively. "Perhaps a thermal imaging analysis during the baking cycle would provide useful data?"
"Excellent idea! Arrange it!" Jun-Jun agreed. He looked at Migs' cookies. "How are yours, the control group?"
Migs took a bite of his cookie. It was... surprisingly okay. A bit chewy, nicely chocolatey, perhaps a tad sweet, but definitely recognizable as a decent chocolate chip cookie. "Mine are... fine," he said, relieved. "Edible. Cookie-like."
"Ah, conventional success!" Jun-Jun clapped him on the back. "Well done, Migs! You followed the recipe!" He seemed genuinely pleased for his friend, rather than upset about his own spectacular failure. He broke off another piece of the Mega-Cookie shard. "Maybe the burnt bits add character?"
Just then, Mang George discreetly placed a silver platter on the counter. On it sat a dozen perfectly formed, golden-brown chocolate chip cookies, radiating a professional, non-charred aroma.
"Chef prepared these earlier, sir," Mang George announced quietly. "Using the standard household recipe and the French butter. As a... baseline for comparison."
Jun-Jun's eyes lit up. "Ooh! Professional baseline! Excellent thinking, Mang George!" He immediately grabbed one of the chef's cookies and took a bite. "Ah! See? Consistent texture! Even chocolate distribution! No carbon notes! This is good!" He turned to Migs. "Try one!"
Migs took one. It was, predictably, delicious – far superior to his own attempt, let alone Jun-Jun's disaster.
Jun-Jun happily munched on the chef's cookie, seemingly having forgotten his own creation cooling (and possibly hardening into a geological specimen) on the rack. "Okay, so," he said between bites, "lessons learned. Follow instructions, pre-mix dry ingredients, control mixer speed, maybe don't aim for continental drift in cookie formation." He nodded decisively. "Cookie Baking 2.0 will be significantly optimized!"
"Before you plan Cookie Baking 2.0," Migs interjected, seeing his opportunity, "I really should head home, Jun-Jun. Seriously this time. It's getting late, and I think I've experienced enough domestic adventure for one day."
Jun-Jun looked up from the cookie platter, considering it. "Leaving? Already? But we haven't even analyzed the thermal imaging data from the oven yet!"
"Maybe next time," Migs said firmly but kindly. "Thanks for brunch, thanks for the... cookie experience. It's been..." he searched for the right word, "...memorable."
Jun-Jun sighed, but didn't protest further. "Alright, alright. If you must." He wiped his hands. "Need a ride? I could-"
"No!" Migs cut him off quickly. "No convoys, no helicopters, no newly purchased vehicles. I will brave the wilds of the Grab app once more. It's fine."
"Okay, okay." Jun-Jun conceded. "Normal exit." He walked Migs back towards the foyer. "But brunch was fun, right? Even with the Alpine ice?"
"It was... unique," Migs smiled genuinely this time. "Definitely unique."
Mang George was already at the door, having anticipated Migs' departure and likely having already booked the Grab. "Your car is arriving shortly, Sir Migs," he informed him. "Standard driver gratuity protocols will be observed." Migs shuddered slightly at the thought of another P50k tip but didn't argue.
"Thanks again, Mang George," Migs said.
"Pleasure serving you, sir."
Jun-Jun clapped Migs on the shoulder as the Grab car pulled up outside the gate. "Text me when you get home! And get ready for brunch next week – I'll have Mang George source that Norwegian ice for real this time!"
Migs just shook his head, waved farewell, and climbed into the blessed normality of the Grab car. As it pulled away, Jun-Jun stood in the doorway for a moment, watching it go.
He turned back into the quiet, cavernous house. The faint smell of burnt sugar still lingered. He wandered back towards the kitchen, eyeing the remaining shards of the Mega-Cookie and the platter of perfect ones.
"Mang George," Jun-Jun called out. "About that Mega-Cookie... do we have laser cutting tools in the workshop?"
Mang George appeared instantly. "We have industrial-grade laser cutters, plasma torches, and water jet cutters, sir. What did you have in mind?"
Jun-Jun grinned. "I'm thinking... abstract sculpture."
The day was winding down, but Jun-Jun's mind, as always, was just getting started.