Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Mystery Oreos: The Taste of Pure Imagination

Preposterous Ploy or a Pleasing Puzzlement?
A cynic would explain the appearance of Mystery Oreos this way: the flummoxed flavor wizards at Oreo, suffering a food chemist's version of writer's block, failed to think of any new ideas for novelty flavors and, in a fit of desperation, settled on some undefinable but pleasant-tasting combination of extracts that they would offer consumers, saying "you tell US what it is!"  It's certainly a viable conspiracy theory but, as with many such fever-dreams, it is not supported by the evidence.  Here at the Food Kingdom, all available staff (and other volunteers) have tasted these mystery cookies and they taste quite definitely of something.  We just can't agree what that something is.
Oreos has revved up the excitement by offering a grand prize of $50,000 for one person who correctly guesses the mystery flavor, and 5 $10,000 runner-up prizes.  But don't get too excited.  There will likely be thousands of entrants who guess correctly, and the winners from that pool are selected by random drawing. This is more of a sweepstakes than a contest.  Unless the correct answer is Blueberry-Banana Ecto-Cooler Crunch or something.
Blind Tasting
Mystery Oreos can't be evaluated by the same method that we've used to assess previous limited-edition flavors.  Usually, one of the judging criteria is the fidelity of the cookie to the treat that it's attempting to resemble.  With a mystery flavor, we don't even know the target, so it's impossible to say, in advance, whether it hits the mark.  Instead, we can simplify our questions to two: does it taste good, and does it seem to resemble something that exists in the world?  That search for that second answer is what has made this a rewarding tasting experience, as our minds and taste buds have trod together the alleyways of remembered pleasures, chance and contingent associations, and weird threads of synaptic connection between sensation and identification, aiming at knowing and barely missing, all the while caught in a sensual swirl of cookie and cream.
They don't look like much.  Except for a slightly lighter shade in the wafers, and a thicker helping of creme, Mystery Oreos look just like regular Oreos.  But just as reading a novel is often more vivid than watching the film adaptation, removing visual clues from the equation equips the mind of the taster to conjure wonders that colors and identifying labels might well suppress.

Fruit Is Definitely Involved
While our Food Kingdom panel hotly disputed the specifics, all but one on the panel agreed that these were fruity.  Essential fruit oils infuse the slab of creme inside the cookie, and that portion of creme is extra thick, necessarily I think because, in the absence of coloration and the guidance of an official flavor designation, the flavor needs to be extra strong to be identifiable.  Having said that, the cookie itself, which is slightly lighter in color than that of a classic Oreo, also has a hint of fruit.  I'm going to go out on a limb and declare the flavor to be orange or orange creme.  That was the flavor that just popped into my head the moment I tasted it, and while other suggestions from the panel were provocative and intriguing, subtly influencing my perceptions on subsequent tastings, and allowing for the aforementioned adventures in dreamlike speculation, I still kept coming back to something citrusy and, specifically, orangey.  Cointreau.  Grand Marnier.  Orange Milano.  These were the phrases that kept recurring over and over to me.  So orange it is, my (and Jen G's) official guess.  But there are others.  Let's hear from the panel now.

Other Official Guesses

Peppermint (my Aunt Lynn): I really didn't expect this guess, but she was quite insistent and I had to admit that, when I put myself in the right frame of mind, I could see where she was coming from.
Pros: It needs no additional coloring for it to be correct, and it's counterintuitive.
Cons: Oreo has already come out with a green mint variety, so this wouldn't be particularly new.

Fruity Pebbles (Maureen F, James N, and Brian S): Mo says that was her gut reaction and she's sticking with it.  Brian, damning with faint praise, writes "It has that fruity cereal taste.  It's good but not something I want to eat more than one of in a sitting." James N was more expansive, emphasizing the nostalgia they evoked and concluding that "it had enough faux fruitiness to taste different.  Ultimately, I wouldn't buy [these] over the original flavor, but I may buy a box of Fruity Pebbles next time I'm at the store!"    
Pros: The multicolored creme filling would be awesome! Like rainbow sherbert!
Cons: It's sort of an "all of the above" answer.  Is that a cop out? Also, consider the licensing costs of getting the naming rights from Post cereals.

Froot Loops (Trisa B and Inés P)
Pros: Again, one can certainly "taste where she's coming from."
Cons: What's with the breakfast cereal thing?

Bubble Gum (Kelly R)
"Bubble gum was the first thing I thought of.  Either that or Froot Loops"
Pros: Major points for originality and, when you consider how artificial the whole thing is, it makes perfect sense.
Cons: Ewwwwww....really?

Lemon Creme (R. de Moraes)
"It reminds me of ladyfingers with a light lemon frosting"
Pros: Mr. de Moraes has a discerning palate that is picking up the definite citrus note
Cons: His full description is basically likening this cookie to a pre-existing citrus cookie, which Nabisco will not be happy to hear.

Audience Participation!
Now it's your turn.  Let's see how many interesting guesses we can gather together in one place.  Please send your official guesses (after you enter the contest please, I don't want to be accused of stealing your idea!) to foodnfreak@gmail.com with the subject line "Mystery Oreos."  I will compile the answers and share them in a later post so we can all learn together.  Please let me know how you'd like to be identified or whether you'd prefer to be anonymous.  Happy tasting!


Thursday, October 5, 2017

Apple Pie Oreos: In Praise of the Fake

Our Chemical Romance
Mark Twain quipped that "a 'classic' is a book that everybody praises but nobody has read" and so it is today with the cult of the all-natural.  We all claim to desire all-natural foods, but when General Mills replaced the artificial food dyes in Trix with the drab natural hues of strawberries, turmeric, and beet juice, customers revolted and the joyous artificial rainbow was restored.  Keeping a convenience food all-natural is relatively easy when all you're doing is producing a canned, dried, or frozen rendition of an actual dish; it's easy to put real cheese on a frozen pizza and real beef in Hormel chili.  What are canned peaches in essence but, well, canned peaches?  But if you want peach-flavored bubble gum or grape lollipops or kiwi-mango gummi bears, you've got to break out the chemicals.  Intuitively we understand this and the reasonable among us don't object when our pack of Starbursts discreetly allows that it contains "natural and artificial flavors."  Those mysterious flavor compounds that imbue taffy with the essence of banana are uncannily effective.
Honestly, which would you pick?  The technicolor tribute to industrial engineering that is Trix Original or the East German all-natural version?
Synthetics: As American as Apple Pie
Nabisco has been applying, and continues to apply, this lesson in their dozen-plus-per-annum excursions into new and novel flavors, and their proudly artificial Apple Pie Oreos are a vindication of that approach.  Would it have been technically possible to dry out real apples, puree them, and fold that puree into the creme filling that's sandwiched between two graham-flour wafers?  Indeed, it would have been, but the creamy texture would have been disrupted and the apple flavor would have been quite faint.  One problem with natural flavors is that they're not very concentrated.  A wedge of apple requires all of its substantial bulk to transmit a potent punch of apple flavor.  It's too busy being an apple to taste of an apple in a pungent way.  That's why a real apple pie has to be about 85% apple by weight in order to taste strongly of apples.  With Apple Pie Oreos, Nabisco needed a creme filling that constitutes about 33% of the cookies weight to supply a blast of apple that would suffuse the entire cookie, and for that they needed to break out a full battery of ersatz compounds.
The package art neatly demonstrates the challenge that Nabisco faced: compressing the taste of layer upon layer of apple slices into a thin sliver of sweetened shortening.  Science knows the chemical components that make up the apple flavor profile.  One bite of this punchy little cookie and you'll f***ing love science.
The Canny Choice to Emulate Pie
Oreos' choice of novelty flavors haven't always been the wisest.  Root Beer Float and Banana Split may have been the most egregious follies, for they both attempted to emulate items known for being cool and refreshing with a cookie that is, by it's nature, room temperature and crumbly.  Aiming to simulate pie is genius because of the tight relationship between the original and the copy.  Pie crust is made of flour and shortening.  Oreos are dry, sweetened flour wafers filled with sweetened flavored shortening.  The use of graham flour in the wafers also makes a lot of sense, for it makes the cookie looser, more crumbly and granular, so that when the sweet apple-flavored shortening mixes with the coarse graham crumble, it's like tasting the melted butter that bastes the layers of flaky pie crust.  With all these elements attended to, the only x-factor was how convincing the artificial baked apple flavor would be.  I'm happy to report that the rich apple creme tastes extremely realistic.  No, there are no juicy chunks of apple, but when you've been chewing on a real bite of apple pie, those chunks collapse into a undifferentiated mash within your mouth fairly quickly anyway.  These cookies don't taste like a bite of fresh apple pie -- they taste like a bite of fresh apple pie 10 seconds later.  A lovely image, I know, you're welcome.
Redolent of golden, oozing baked apple coated in caramel-like sauce, nestled in rich, buttery, brown-sugary crust, Apple Pie Oreos reminded me of another junk-food favorite: Taco Bell's Apple Empanada which, while delicious, also has hardly any real apple in it.  What's their excuse?

Conclusions, But No Consensus
My enthusiasm notwithstanding, these don't seem to be for everybody.  These cookies attracted much attention within the Food Kingdom offices, with Maureen F., James N., and Brian S. all having a go.  Maureen, hopefully by mere coincidence, is out of the office today, but James and Brian both keyed in on what they perceived to be excess sweetness.  Said Brian, "it does have a hint of apple taste but it's way too sweet for me.  It doesn't taste at all like an Oreo, which is not a good thing.  Agreed James, "[it] tasted a lot more like apple pie than I expected, but it was also overpoweringly sweet.  I'll stick with the classic Oreos" showing that for some, making a pie out of Oreos is more successful than making Oreos out of a pie.  Dear reader, you shall have to sort this out for yourself, which you may do for what is apparently a limited time.