Oreos

(June 25, 2003)

My dad had a very specific late-night pre-bed routine that involved a tall, thin glass of milk and a small plate of Oreo cookies. I don't remember the specific number (although I remember thinking at the time that it wasn't high enough), but it was always the same. And when he was done twisting and dunking, we knew it was time for bed. This was my first introduction to the magic of the Oreo cookie. Keep in mind that this was before 'Double-Stuf' (twice as much filling, half as many f's) was even common, so just like many dads and sons before us, we made our own by disassembling two individual regular Oreos and rebuilding most of the parts into a single cookie. My personal favorite was the Big Mac edition, where I would only discard (and by discard, I mean consume) one of the two chocolate cookie halves and basically make a 'Double-Stuf' with one chocolate cookie half still between the crèmes.

Ever since those early days I have considered myself an Oreo fan - in adulthood, of course, I can stack as many on my plate as I want, no longer hampered by dad's accounting. And that's just for breakfast. As a fan, then, I feel that I can say this to the makers of the Oreo cookie with all fairness and objectivity: STOP WITH ALL THESE FREAKY OREO PERMUTATIONS!!!

Of course, Double-Stuf was to be expected, given that so many dads and sons were already self-constructing these at home. Although my wife will swear to you that over the years the amount of crème in the Double-Stuf Oreos has diminished so much that they are now actually the original Oreos in a pink wrapper (which begs the question, what miniscule amount of crème is now in the originals?). But this isn't my area of contention - Double-Stuf I can live with (although I continue to hope that somebody at Nabisco will finally learn how to spell it). No, my frustration stems from the seemingly endless parade of new flavors that are flooding the once simple and pure Oreo landscape. Actually flavors are just the latest trend. Before that, it was colors. Orange crème for Halloween. Red and green crème for Christmas. Blue crème for 'Spring.' Then they moved on to directly addressing those of us who were indulging in the 'Oreos for breakfast' phenomena by creating a cereal called Oreo O's - which sadly bore little resemblance in appearance or taste to actually having a big stack of Oreos for breakfast (I know from whence I speak). They tried to correct this later by adding marshmallows, but that only served to turn them into some warped combination of Cocoa Puffs and Lucky Charms.

This was followed in turn by the advent of mini Oreos - teeny (as the same suggests) Oreos that Nabisco touted as 'bite-sized.' Apparently no one there has been following the evolution of the human mouth, particularly mine, as I have already mastered the art of placing an entire full-size Double-Stuf Oreo into my mouth, whole. I follow this with a swig of cold milk, thereby saving me the tediousness of dunking. So for me Oreos are already bite-sized, and shrinking them to roughly the size of an over-thick dime served no purpose other than to drastically increase the chances that I might choke on one by trying to swallow it whole.

Following the Double-Stuf (twice as big), the colors, the cereal, and the Mini (half as big), came a variety of new flavors for the crème in the middle. It all started with chocolate, which I must admit I enjoyed at the outset. They even did chocolate crème in the mini, resulting in quite possibly the world's smallest helping of 'Death by chocolate'. I don't know if it was the bakery department or the marketing department, but the success of chocolate crème Oreos definitely went to somebody's head, because shortly thereafter we were met with a barrage of new crème flavors, or more precisely flavor combinations: mint and crème, peanut butter and chocolate crème, and the latest venture, coffee and crème. Next I presume will be a nod to the vegetarian community with 'Broccoli and crème' or 'Squash and crème.' Coffee? On an Oreo? Let me tell you, I love Oreos, but when I need a cup of coffee, I need real coffee. And for that matter, when I need Oreos, I need real Oreos. Not blue Oreos, not cereal, not peanut butter and mint and chocolate crème Oreos. And don't even get me started on fudge covered, white chocolate covered, or for goodness sake 'reduced fat'. I mean, if you want reduced fat then EAT A CARROTT.

You see, this has all become far too complicated. Oreo's original success for years and years and years was based on a very simple formula - take two chocolate cookie halves, and sandwich some vanilla crème in between. Pure. Easy. Simple. Simply stacked on a small plate, with a tall, thin glass of milk before bedtime.

Shawn Cleaves is a freelance columnist in Newnan, Georgia - and a die-hard Oreo fan. shawn@newnanutilities.org.