UNFORTUNATE FORTUNES
Est. recently · Small batch · Lightly cursed
UNFORTUNATE
FORTUNES
Dark truths · Little cookies

Sweet on the outside.
Bleak on the inside.

Hand-folded fortune cookies for people who prefer their optimism lightly bruised. The shell is honest. The fortune is worse.

Hand-folded in small batches Bad-news-friendly packaging Fortune favors the inconvenienced
SWEET
ON THE OUTSIDEThe shell. The fold. The sugar.
BLEAK
ON THE INSIDEThe paper. The truth. The pause.
Vol. I — Fortunes that aged poorly on purpose

A small selection of terrible news, beautifully phrased.

Every cookie contains exactly one fortune. None of them will solve your problems. A few may name them.

№ 001You will be missed, but not by who you were hoping.
№ 002The thing you keep meaning to do already happened to someone else.
№ 003An old friend is thinking of you. They have decided not to reach out.
№ 004Today is the perfect day to remain consistent with yourself.
№ 005Your patience will be rewarded. Eventually. Possibly. Not today.
№ 006You are exactly where you'd be if you had tried harder. So that's something.
№ 007A great opportunity is just around the corner — but you took the other corner.
№ 008Lucky numbers: 4, 11, 27, the one you didn't pick, and the one you should have left alone.
The menu — six varieties, all of them honest

Flavors for the quietly disappointed.

Same crisp shell as the cookies you remember. The fillings are the same color as the news.

№ 01

Burnt Almond & Regret

Toasted almond, brown butter, and a long pause at the end of a sentence you didn't mean to start.

Original recipe
№ 02

Existential Vanilla

Madagascar vanilla, a faint salt edge, and the distinct sense that you've eaten this exact cookie before.

House favorite
№ 03

Ash & Honey

Charred sugar, raw clover honey, smoked sea salt. Sweet first. Then quieter. Then over.

Limited release
№ 04

Oxblood Cherry

Dark sour cherry, almond extract, and a deep red that does not photograph well in any lighting.

Seasonal
№ 05

Cold Coffee, 1996

Stale espresso, cocoa nib, condensed milk. Tastes like a kitchen at 11 p.m. with the lights mostly off.

Late-night batch
№ 06

Plain, Honestly

The original cookie. No additions. No improvements. No promises it can't keep.

For purists
The Unfortunate Fortunes box: black box with antique gold filigree, skull-and-clouds emblem, and the wordmark UNFORTUNATE FORTUNES.
The Box · Vol. I

Twelve cookies. Twelve truths. One small black box.

Each box is hand-stamped, gold-foiled, and sealed with a wax skull. The cookies are folded the same morning they ship. The fortunes were written at 2 a.m. by people who probably needed to go to bed.

12 cookies 12 fortunes 1 wax-skull seal 1 keepsake box 0 false hope 1 long sigh, included
Open the box
Manifesto · or close enough

We make the cookie. The cookie tells the truth.

Most fortune cookies are written by people who think things will be fine. We disagree, respectfully, in writing, on a small piece of paper, inside a cookie.

The Unfortunate Fortune began as a complaint and matured, slowly and against advice, into a small bakery. We hand-fold every cookie because machines refuse to participate. We write every fortune ourselves because no algorithm has ever been disappointed correctly.

We believe in honest snacks. We believe a fortune should land somewhere between a horoscope and a voicemail you didn't return. We believe darn fortunate is a higher form of luck than the regular kind, because you have to earn it by surviving the rest.

— The bakery, on a Tuesday

The shop · ships when ready

Take home a box of bad news, baked.

Twelve cookies per box. Twelve original fortunes, written by hand, sealed by hand, dropped in the mail by a person who has also had a long week. Pre-orders open now. First batch ships shortly.

Pre-order a box Notify me
A box of twelve · $24 · ships from a small kitchen