David: whatchya makin?
Me: Oreo balls.
David: are they going on the blog?
David: you’re not going to call them that are you???
???? Oreo truffles? Oreo bites? Oreo pops? We call them oreo balls. BALLS, people. But apparently using the term “balls” to refer to the very best oreo cookie deliciousness is frowned upon in this establishment. <insert exasperated sigh here> Oreo truffles it is.
I’ve always been convinced that oreos are just another socially acceptable and legal form of crack. If I have not had an oreo in months, then I do not crave one. You can even stick a package on the counter and I can toss out a very zen “meh” as I reach for a handful of healthy coconut granola. But give me two oreos and a glass of milk and suddenly I relapse–GIVE ME ALL THE OREOS… The more I eat, the more I crave. This exponential relationship is dangerous for my waistline and my marriage. (“why no, david, i did not eat the last oreo truffle that was supposed to be yours… ahem… scuze me while i go brush my teeth real quick and for-the-love-of-saint-pete don’t kiss me yet.”)
My only hope for salvation is giving these oreo cookie truffles a double-dunked white chocolate shell. Never liked white chocolate. (GASP. Yes – there is actually chocolate out there that I will refuse.) By dipping the oreo truffles into white chocolate, I can at least guarantee that should I turn into an oreo-munching-lunatic, I will forcibly go through detox when the milk chocolate runs out.
I double-down on this guarantee by taking most of my baking creations in to my co-workers. I think they nearly forbid me from coming around with any more sweets after I brought this unforgiveably rich chocolate cake AND these sluttier-than-slutty brownies last week. O.o #byebyeresolutions
On that note, I’m off for a run…