Susie Q
Google
What an absolute heartbreak.
My family has been visiting Cayucos since the 1930s. Back when they were hand-rolled into soft, round, salty, perfect bites of shortbread heaven. You could taste the care, the craft, the pride in every warm, golden circle.
But this week? We met their corpse.
The iconic rounds have been butchered into lazy, cold, industrial slabs, sliced into soulless squares like factory scrap. Now you can look forward to taking a bite out of what looks and has the taste of a brick of sand for an unreasonable price. No hand-rolling. No joy. No love. Just blocks of blandness, cranked out in the name of “efficiency” and “cost-cutting.”
And the betrayal runs deeper. Years ago they separated the cocoa and original packs, forcing loyal customers to pay more for what they once thoughtfully bundled together. We gritted our teeth and bore that insult, hoping the cookies themselves would remain sacred.
But now they’ve destroyed even that.
These lifeless squares are pure evidence of a business that no longer respects its product, or the generations of customers who built its name. It’s a hollow money-grab disguised as tradition.
We won’t be back. Not until they care again. Not until they remember that what made these cookies special wasn’t convenience or profit: it was love.
What a waste. What a shame.
We don’t go to the beach for the cookies anymore.