Accept Cookie?
Reject Cookie?
Nowadays I buy our cookies and other sweets with my Sunday-morning shopping from our local Italian bakery, run by a same-sex couple, as people are wont to say.
I don't know if everything counts as a "cookie", but Joe's favorites are the Italian Tricolors (aka Rainbows). He has rejected them from just about every other bakery as not measuring up to the ones his sister bakes at Christmas. But the ones from this bakery are acceptable and have the added bonus of a layer of marzipan, which really makes them Tetracolors, I suppose.
He also likes their Rugalas (as opposed to Arugula), especially the apricot (with the ape in it) and the raspberry.
Other treats from said Olde Sweete Shoppe are Pinioli Nut Cookies, Chocolate Macaroons, and Jumbles, which are different every week, I guess because they consist of of everything he's been baking all mixed together.
Storebought: We were into the Keebler Elves ChocChips for a while. I've always been turned off by the name "Hydrox". Sounds like some sort of chemical.
My dearest friend Debby gives us genuine English Shortbreads every Christmas, her husband being English. We never seem to get together around the holiday season, though. So yesterday I finally got my shortbreads (and she got the CD Tea at Five, being as she is a big Katharine Hepburn fan) when I closed on my new mortgage--yes, Debby is a paralegal and handled the entire thing for her boss, my mortgage attorney. Far as I can see, he does nothing, she does everything.
Childhood: Every Christmas my Norwegian Grandmother (later to distinguish herself as the Administrative Assistant to the Warren Commission) would visit and make those sinful Scandinavian pastries. There were Rosettes, of course, which she said were Swedish, and Krumkake. But the true prize was Fattigmann, little rhombi of dough which she tied in a knot, popped into deep fat, and sprinkled with powdered sugar. mmmmmmmmmm
My Mom would later make rosettes, but she refused to even attempt Fattigmann.