I have found the perfect cookie and it is the macaron.

Not the macaroon — that’s the coconut one and it’s fine but it’s not what we’re talking about. We’re talking about the macaron. Two delicate almond meringue shells with a filling in the middle. Crispy on the outside. Chewy on the inside. Comes in every color and flavor that has ever existed or could ever exist. It is, objectively, the pinnacle of what a cookie can be.

I know what you’re thinking. “They’re overpriced.” “They’re too small.” “They’re pretentious.” And to that I say: you are wrong and I feel sorry for you. A macaron is not overpriced. A macaron is a tiny engineered miracle. Each one requires the kind of precision that would make a Swiss watchmaker nervous. The meringue has to be just right. The “feet” — the little ruffled edge at the bottom — have to form correctly or the whole thing is a failure. The filling has to complement without overpowering. This is not a cookie you throw together. This is a cookie that demands respect.

And the flavors. Oh, the flavors. You can get a macaron in literally any flavor. Lavender. Earl Grey (gross). Salted caramel. Pistachio. Raspberry. Lemon. Matcha. Rose. Birthday cake. Literally anything your brain can conceive of, someone has made a macaron out of it.

But I need to talk about the Fruity Pebble macaron.

Someone — some genius, some visionary, some absolute legend — looked at a macaron and said “what if this tasted like the cereal I ate as a kid while watching Saturday morning cartoons.” And then they did it. And it is the single greatest flavor combination in the history of baked goods. It’s nostalgic and fancy at the same time. It’s a cookie that makes you feel like a kid and an adult simultaneously. It tastes like joy has a flavor profile. Sarah got me some for my birthday from Olivia Macaron.

The Fruity Pebble macaron is proof that we have not yet peaked as a species.

People will tell you the chocolate chip cookie is the perfect cookie. Those people are living in the past. The chocolate chip cookie is great. It’s reliable. It’s the Honda Civic of cookies. But the macaron? The macaron is what happens when you take the concept of a cookie and refuse to stop improving it until it achieves enlightenment.

I am obsessed. I am not recovering. I do not want to recover.

Stay crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside, and never apologize for eating six of them in a row.