Oreo Thins Are a Heart Breaker and Dream Killer

You remember how a little while ago, I talked about how the hot dog crust pizza was an innovative step in the right direction for junk food, even if it didn't taste that amazing?

Yeah, Oreo Thins — the more “grown up”, smaller Oreos — are basically the opposite of that.


First of all, I'm so sick of “Skinny” menus, “Thinspiration,” and basically any weird half-hearted attempt at marketing a smaller/lesser version of something as a “fun” healthier option.

Just because you slap the label “skinny” on a Jr. Cheeseburger doesn't make it better for you. It's some of the most backwards marketing I've ever seen, and it's absolutely counter-intuitive to what makes food fun. You ever have a fun-size candy bar and thought it was better than a normal size? Yeah, I fucking thought not.

And these Oreos are a symptom of that weird, stilted logic that less is somehow more sophisticated, like seizing the day is apparently wrong and grabbing a 100 calorie pack of something will somehow magically make you lose weight. Newsflash: it won't. You're hungry – you'll probably just grab two and end up eating MORE.

But I digress – aside from the garbage marketing comparing thinner Oreos to some form of advanced technology, the cookies are actually not bad. Like most sane people, I'm of the mindset that Oreos actually need MORE filling, and bigger wafers. There's a reason everybody loves Double Stuf, and why people were so hurt to discover that they don't actually have double the filling.

The cool thing about the Thins is that they're super easy to chew and they break apart with ease. So, you're not going to be able to twist off the wafer and double stack them (which would miss the point, anyway), so what I like to do is shovel them into my mouth several cookies at a time, not bothering to pause for breath until I'm red-faced with nasty Oreo residue covering my face like the lone survivor of some junk food bacchanal.

I recognize that this is pretty much the opposite image of what Nabisco wants for these treats, but hey, fuck the system. You eat however many cookies however you want.

By and large, the classic version of the Thins is the best, but the mint filling isn't so bad, either. I was sort of hoping for a Thin Mint vibe, but, no such luck – since there's so little filling, the chocolate wafers dominate, and you really just feel like you're eating Oreo wafers after chewing some weak mint gum. As for the Golden variety, I'm afraid these fall short. With the Nilla Wafer vibe and the thin strip of filling, you're basically getting a dry mouthful of vague sugar bread sensation every bite. Pass on 'em.

Of course, in that regard, the Golden Oreo Thins embody one of the major flaws of the Oreo Thins – the need for milk. We all know that all Oreos taste better with delicious liquid lacto on the scene, but these guys especially could benefit from some moisture. Problem is, they're too thin – they don't hold the milk well, they crumble too easy, and they're too weird and small to feel right as I plunge my big meaty hand into this tiny glass of milk. I feel like a bear with his paw stuck in a honeypot. It's wrong.

It's all wrong, and I just don't get it. You make fucking cookies, Nabisco – delicious discs of flattened cocoa dust filled with oops-it's-vegan cream-flavored sugar gel. There is no universe where you can make something like that healthy or sophisticated without utterly demolishing its intrinsic value. So just stop. Please.

These cookies are the equivalent of the Star Wars prequels. Sure, they don't leave nearly as bad a taste in my mouth, but they're an equally starling example of missing the point.
Don't waste your time – go straight for the Double Stuf.

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