The Cookie Exchange Incident

It started as a good idea. A great one, even. National Cookie Exchange Day — the perfect opportunity to combine two of my favorite things: community and snacks. But somewhere between inspiration and execution, I decided to make “nacho cookies.”

It sounded festive in theory. Sweet and savory. A little cinnamon sugar on crisp tortilla rounds, drizzled with chocolate, maybe a sprinkle of sea salt for balance. I even convinced myself to add a layer of melted cheese because “contrast” is what separates artists from amateurs. Spoiler: it’s also what separates dessert from confusion.

By the time I pulled the tray from the oven, the kitchen smelled like a moral dilemma. The chocolate had seized, the cheese was caramelized in ways nature never intended, and the sugar had formed a glassy crust that could double as body armor. I took one bite out of scientific duty. It tasted like if holiday spirit had a nervous breakdown.

So I did what anyone would do — I packed them up, labeled them “experimental,” and brought them to the exchange anyway. Nobody traded for them, but everyone remembered them. Which, honestly, might be better than being liked.