I Recommend... ("cookies + milk" edition)

So, I had me a sandwich for lunch a few days ago. And then, as I'm known to do from time to time, I decided to have some dessert. Just a little sweetness to cap off the meal. Previously, I had set out the remainder of the Vanilla frosting on the counter so that it would become pliable and room temperature--a cold tub of frosting is anathema to my gastronomic libido. I get out three Chips Ahoy White Chocolate Chunk cookies and place them on my favorite small white plate, about 7 inches across. Smear the frosting on the top of each cookie. (Some might say 'spread it along the bottom, allowing a more regular flow onto the flat surface.' I disagree, preferring the tricky terrain of the nobby chips and undulating cookie-peaks on the top. When you spread it along this less predictable surface area, several things happen: the nooks allow for small nuggets of frosting to be wedged into the cookie itself, causing a burst of vanilla-y goodness; also, if you cover the flat bottom in frosting, you have to place your cookies top-side down, and they might tip, thus coating your plate or carpeting or hard-wood floor in frosting, not your tongue. My point made, I move on, unimpeded.)

With cookies agreeably coated, you pour a couple inches of milk into a shallow cup/tumbler/mug. The amount of milk is dependant on you. Me, I like the milk for the dunking, only, so I usually didn't pour much more than was required. If you want to wash down the cookie with a leftover four ounces of milk, please do so. But here is where I come to the eureka moment... on this day in question, I did what I thought was egregious and foul. I overpoured. All that extra milk to be sucked down, by now lukewarm and beset with floating bits. So I dunked and fed on my frosted cookies, and they were as delicious as always, but an inch of milk remained. This is what I do. I place that glass of bottom-hugging milk back into the refridgerator. Three hours go by. Maybe four. I retrieve that glass of milk, sitting between the open jar of pasta sauce and a dish covered in foil that at one point might have held baked beans. The glass is frosty cool by now. I place it to my lips and throw it back like a shot. Ooooh. Hmm. This is good. This is different. This is CookieMilk.

Before, I had done this fine liquid a disservice by merely swilling it down right after all the dunking had been done. It had warmed, grown mealy, a feeble alternate to the proud tradition of bright white cow juice we as lactose-tolerant people have come to enjoy. But this time, in an accident smacking of Fate-capital-F, I chilled it in the fridge. The resultant beverage was a joy to consume. This was cocoa-infused milk, milk+dough, the hybrid love child of childhood itself. To all you cookie dunkers out there, I implore you: Pour a little more. Dunk away. Then save that clarified essence of youth, re-refridgerate, and drink like Santa after House #1. You'll be glad you did.*

*Edible Wrecks, MaybeIndecisive, or the attractive associates of Blogger.com are not responsible for any or all illnesses/disappointments that may or may not occur after consuming room-temperature milk, warm frosting, or cookies that are not Chips Ahoy. Please gorge responsibly.

Faux-reos

A few days ago, I stopped by the local grocery store to stock up on post-lunch dessert options: usually, a cookie of some sort, ideally to be dunked in milk, perhaps pre-coated in frosting. I had a hankering... an Oreo hankering. Much to my dismay, a week earlier I had seen the tell-tale orange cream middle of a new, seasonal variety of the chocolate-sandwich cookies: Halloween Oreos. On September 13th. I know, this is an old whine, but hopefully it ages well. As much as I desired the themed cookie, I couldn't bring myself to jumpstart my favorite holiday season a month in advance. Had I been jewish, this sort of mentality would've driven my forebears to celebrate my manhood at the first sign of upright urination.... and I now realize I've somehow gotten off-track. Oh yes: the faux-reo.

Since I could not abide by the pre-emptive spooky cream-filled chocolate cookie, I was forced into generic-brand-buying action. (And I promise never to use four hyphens in the span of a single sentence again.) This particular store sold their own version of Oreos, called "O'mazin' Os." Which, while clever, seems a tad redundant in their use of the product-shaped letter. The package exclaims: "Like Oreo(R) Chocolate Sandwich Cookies? You'll Love Us!*" (The asterisk leads you to the back of the package, with the disclaimer that Oreo is a registered trademark of Nabisco, and C & S Wholesale Grocers, Inc., [makers of O'mazing Os] is not in any way affiliated with Nabisco. I yearn for the day when a brand-name product asks, "Love Generic Fruity Circle-Shaped Cereal? Then why are you paying $2 more for a box with a tropical bird on it? Are you that much of an ornithophile?" or something to that effect.)

Anyway. The verdict? O'mazing Os, while at first appearing to lack the generous cream-to-cookie ratio of Oreos, stand up quite well to the Nabisco version. The chocolate has a solid dissolve-rate, so that when dunked in milk the cookie retains its form just enough to not fall apart, while aborbing enough of the liquid to ensure that soft, almost creamy texture when it dissolves in your mouth. This might have to do with the miniature floral design on the surface of the cookie itself--visually, a nice, subtle touch, with suitable ridges and depth to capture and hold the milk post-immersion, and not as self-promoting as Oreo's eponymous stamp. And something I've learned just now, while doing some research with the remnants of my morning coffee, is that O'mazing Os taste arguably better dunked in coffee--they remind me of one of my favorite ice cream flavors, "Coffee Oreo." Which, admittedly, makes a lot of sense. Just be forewarned: The heat of the coffee will make your cookie fall apart more quickly than when dunked into cold milk, as the faster-moving molecules will disseminate throughout the cookie with greater haste than the slow, lumbering H2cOw. Still, in my opinion, it's worth the risk.