Not Just Another Sandwich

I think you know where we're going with this.
I think you know about this cookie.
I think that you'll be crafting your own in, oh, say, ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Depending on how fast you can read.

Oh, Oreos. You dear little sandwiches. Just the idea is smart. You know, it's two amazing things together in one place. A cookie, a sandwich. I can count on one hand how many people in the world don't like those two things. Those two foods, they're famous. Put 'em together, and it's sort of like a miracle.

Oreos, they conjure up all sorts of memories for most people. I actually don't have a million memories of Oreos, or even ten memories of them, for that matter! I mean, I ate some of them when I was a kid, but I was never obsessed with them. I know kids nowadays who will sell their tiny little souls (or all their toys, princess outfits, and chicken nuggets) for a mere one-eighth of an Oreo. Children drool for Oreos, and when they finally get their druthers, they eat them in a way that leaves half the cookie on their face and half the cookie covering their teeth like they've just been gnawing on the contents of a coalmine for a half hour. It's darling, though, in a disgusting, our-baby-has-rotten-teeth kind of way.

This love for Oreos, well, it has roots. I imagine it's the whole marketing technique that involves commercials with grinning kids twisting and licking and dunking, accompanied by an adult who is also twisting and licking and dunking -- I think people are seriously drawn to that stuff, that whole togetherness-with-food thing. I mean, I'm drawn to that whole thing. I happen to know that food can connect people in the way that nothing else can. But even more than the togetherness opportunities that Oreos offer, I think people like to perform tricks with their food. I think everyone is pretty excited about finally being allowed to play with their food, if even a little bit. It's not every snack that allows such antics as destroying the food, licking or scraping one's teeth over parts of it, and submerging it in a liquid with one's hand.

But let's get to the core of the matter here, shall we? Oreo parts don't taste like much! Have you noticed this? This might be the point, though. The individual parts aren't that good, but they are at least better when the parts are combined. Plus, let's be honest with each other. Oreo ingredients aren't all that likable. Kind of gross, really. Not a thing you notice when you're a kid, but when I became an adult, I realized that this America's Favorite Cookie cookie was full of weird stuff that I didn't quite want to put in my body. Thus, homemade Oreos. These parts are individually delicious and, while they're not the health equivalent of a kale salad, they at least don't have any ingredients with thirty letters that sound like a chemical factory by-product. And, most importantly, these cookies are so easy to make, and not nearly as labor-intensive as you might be thinking.

So, here we go, then. I can't think of one single reason that you shouldn't make these right away. And if you want to hide them from all the children and keep them hidden under your bed, I won't tell. In fact, I will completely understand. I might even recommend that you go for Oreo-teeth, so that when someone finds you eating them alone in the closet, they will be horrified by your frightening black teeth, and they will run screaming. In which case, there will be more Oreos for you.

Oreo Cookies

adapted from Retro Desserts by Wayne Brachman

For the chocolate wafers:
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder + 2 T dark chocolate cocoa powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/4 cups sugar
1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons (1 1/4 sticks) room-temperature, unsalted butter
1 large egg

For the filling:
1 stick room-temperature, unsalted butter
1/4 cup vegetable shortening
2 cups sifted confectioners’ sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Arrange two racks in the middle of the oven. Preheat to 375°F.

In a food processor, or bowl of an electric mixer, thoroughly mix the flour, cocoa, baking soda and powder, salt, and sugar. Add the butter, and then the egg. Continue processing or mixing until dough comes together in a mass.

Take rounded teaspoons of batter and place on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet approximately two inches apart. Slightly flatten the dough with the palm of your hand.

Bake for 9 minutes, rotating once for even baking. Set baking sheet aside to cool. When cookies are mostly cool, remove to a cooling rack. Repeat with remaining dough.
To make the cream, place butter and shortening in a mixing bowl, and at low speed, gradually beat in the sugar and vanilla. Turn the mixer on high and beat for 2 to 3 minutes until filling is light and fluffy.

To assemble the cookies, spread a blob of cream into the center of one cookie. Place another cookie, equal in size to the first, on top of the cream. Lightly press, to work the filling evenly to the outsides of the cookie. Continue this process until all the cookies have been sandwiched with cream.

I ended up with about 36 sandwiches. I imagine you could make the cookies larger, though, and end up with fewer sandwiches. You could also put a bit more icing inside (than what you'll see in my pictures), as I ended up with about 1/3 C of icing leftover. Oh! And I also came across a recipe that called for evaporated milk in the icing, rather than the vegetable shortening, so that is an option. I must say, even though Crisco grosses me out in an extreme way, there is simply no substitute sometimes. It makes these cookies incredible. Most really delicious frostings have shortening, and it just adds a certain deliciousness that you can't get with butter. My advice is to use the Crisco and, while you're eating these cookies, try as hard as you can to forget about the things that lurk inside that insanely scrumptious filling. And when your friends gush over them, make sure you don't say things like, "Oh, I know! They are tasty! That's what happens when you use a whole can of Crisco!"