I have been living in the dark ages; —like first-layer-of-an-Oreo-cookie-dark. Oh wait—I can’t say that anymore, based on the vanilla ones and a life lesson I learned last night.
“Come on over this evening for Phil’s birthday celebration,” my friend said. “We’re having Oreo cookies and milk.”
I’m not a fan of Oreos, but we love this family and the birthday boy, so we accepted the invitation. Considering I’d gained a few pounds on a recent trip (thanks to Belizean rice and beans), I was happy for a dessert so easily resisted.
On the drive over to their house, I mused, “OREOS. Really? Is this a thing with Millennials nowadays?” —A question revealing not only the age of our friends, but my date of birth and place of origin:
The mid-19th century, and some other planet.
I learned a lot last night.
The first lesson being that I should stroll the cookie aisle more often. A lot has changed since 1970. Store-bought cookies aren’t generally my thing, so I’ve lived in utter ignorance regarding said brand of cookie. I’d heard of double-stuff, mint, and the rumored vanilla joining the blackish chocolate outsides, but I had no idea of the variety as vast as an entire cereal aisle, which is also an unknown entity to me, so maybe I should check my facts.
Imagine my surprise when what lay before me on the birthday table, was a display of Oreos as far as the eye could see (keeping in mind I wasn’t wearing my glasses).
In addition to the common faire mentioned above, the birthday celebration included Chocolate Peanut Butter Oreos, Cinnamon Bun Oreos, Strawberry Shortcake, and Cookies ‘n Cream—which I find ironic, since the original Oreo is in fact, cookie WITH cream, is it not?
Our hosts displayed great restraint and tolerance in withholding guffaws as I expressed amazement at the diversity. They patiently led us through the rigors of Oreo 101, which, as it turns out, is actually Oreo 55. 55 varieties including Pina Colada, Kettle Corn(?!), Coke (with actual fizz), Special Edition 4th of July Firework Oreos (with a mildly exploding filling ), and the family favorite: Easter Peeps-filled Oreos.
Further proof of my unenlightened state of existence was Lesson Two. Until last night, I had assumed cookies were a finger-food, so you can imagine my confusion when Tereana, Phil’s wife, handed me a fork. Like an aborigine, I turning that metal pronged-thing over and over in my hands, pondering its possible usefulness. So I did what I do when invited to the White House —Or WOULD do, if ever I was invited: I waited and watched.
Kids these days. They not only know how to hack into my computer, they know how to correctly eat Oreos.
After the birthday song and candle-blowing (in which the candle was inserted into the side of a DoubleStuff cleverly placed upright), each family member took their fork, pierced it into the side of their favorite flavor, and set it into their glass of milk.
“Wait until you see a little bubble—that means it’s ready,” said one child genius.
So I did, and the experience was nothing short of euphoric. The formerly dry and tasteless outside morphed into soft cake, with—GET THIS—frosting INSIDE!
In conclusion, Peanut Butter’s my favorite, hands down…
No—I mean Cinnamon Bun…
Wait—make it a Double.
This Epic Evening of Oreo Awesomeness reminds me of a verse in the Bible from 1 Corinthians 2:9:
“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him.”
Everyday I ask the Lord to BE Lord over me, because I discover indescribable, beyond-imagination things about Him, myself, and the life He’s laid out before me. Life custom-crafted and flavored by the One who created us all, including Sam J. Porcello—y’know—that guy born in the mid-19th century—the inventor of the Oreo.