How do I know I’m getting old? I now enjoy dried fruit with my chocolate. As a child, I used to get a kick out of Terry’s chocolate oranges—but it was a rule-proving exception. Dried fruits and nuts were welcome in trail mix, sure, as long as the M&M ratio was sufficient. But when it came to cookies, I drew a hard line. For in my child’s mind the Kingdom of Cookiedom had an obvious hierarchy, a crowned chocolate chip cookie reigning benevolently over various duchies. All of these courtly figures—from the exotically spiced ginger snap to the sentimental, dimwitted sugar cookie, to my favorite court jester, the snickerdoodle—were welcome in my home and its cookie jar. But there was a pretender to the throne. A sniveling look-alike, always slinking around, dressed in exactly what the King had worn the day before.