Winter Oreos have arrived! With red creme filling -- very very red creme filling! You might remember Nabisco's Halloween Oreo Cookies from this past October; the "winter" variety essentially uses the same formula. Change the creme color, add a few seasonal scenes to the cookie tops, and keep the taste the same. It's the kind of top secret campaign companies pay billions for. And you can eat it for Christmas.
Oh yeah, make no mistake -- these are Christmas Oreos. Companies rarely tack on the literal "Christmas" moniker to anything anymore for fear of offending or excluding consumers who don't celebrate it, so we get shafted with these sneaky "winter editions" as a concession. Name me something red that has anything to do with winter besides Christmas, and I'll buy you a pack of cookies.
Still, the red creme doesn't really feel...right. I can't put my finger on it; I guess it's just a little too eerie a shade to pass for anything holy and Santa-like. While the Halloween Oreos used an appropriate orange creme filling, these feel way more catered for the dark and deadliest of the holidays. Maybe Nabisco was just too excited about the ghastly red creme to wait for Mexico's Day of the Dead. Maybe it's just me.
As with most of Nabisco's seasonal Oreos, you get way more creme than usual. Enough to scrape out and mold little animals out of, and yes, I tested that theory. I can't say for sure if the creme is of a different type than usual, but it certainly feels more like Play-Doh than any other Oreo filling I've dug out and fondled. It's not the kind of selling point they'd mention in the commercials, but tell me you're not more interested in Winter Oreos now that you know you can sculpt monsters out of their insides.
The cookie-top scenes feature everything from ice skates to snowmen -- basically anything tied to Christmas that's associated vaguely enough to pass as a non-Christmas inclusion. Remember, "Winter Oreos" have nothing to do with Christmas. Nothing. The creme's red because that's what happens to your nose in the harsh winter cold. A red nose. Not like the reindeer, though. Not like the Christmas reindeer.
Strangely enough, the red creme seems to accumulate 100 times more cookie dust than any of the previous creme colors -- and don't tell me it's just more noticeable with red either, because cookie dust is never more seen than when drizzled over the albino glory of the original Oreo's original middle. There's just something weird about this red filling. I wonder if it's from another planet???????
Regardless, the new and otherworldly filling is spectacular stuff. I was able to mold the featureless snake shown above without much creme residue left in my palms, and shit guys, I could never do that with the old Oreos. So many wasted years spent with Oreo guts embedded under my fingernails. So many wasted years.
When they're gone, they're gone. There's seriously around four dozen Oreo varieties currently available, and there's absolutely no way it's going to last. I'm assuming Nabisco just felt that it was better to throw all of their shit at the walls simultaneously, seeing what stuck without dragging out the process for the next three years. In twelve months, I'd be very surprised if Double Dipped Mocha Frappamaraschino Cherry Oreos With Fudge/Vanilla Fudge/White Chocolate Fudge Mint Filling were still being stocked. As for Winter Oreos? I guess they'll be back next year, so long as winter remains nondenominational and "for everyone." If you want legitimate Christmas cookies, ya better start going to some church fairs.
More Oreo madness! This commercial, which debuted at least as early as 1998 if not a few years earlier, tries to establish Nabisco's trump card as THE COOKIE to give THE SANTA. Growing up, "Chips Ahoy!" always got the nod in our house. One year, my mother even convinced me that carrots and milk were Santa's favorite. Retrospectively, this may have had something to do with her penchant for waking up in the middle of the night and eating all the cookies. Bottom line -- we never used Oreos. Even if we wanted to, they would've never lasted till midnight on Christmas Eve.
Regardless, leaving Oreos for Santa makes perfect sense. You're scoring an almost literal brownie point, and you're doing it right before the big moment of gift-giving. It could've been the difference between getting a bike or getting a bike with a horn. For such a tiny investment, Oreos could potentially pay huge dividends. Plus, it's just sorta interesting to picture Santa twisting an Oreo apart to get at the creamy middle. It may be something best left to the imagination, but Nabisco couldn't resist -- here's Santa!
In the commercial, Santa makes all of these inquisitive gestures towards the Oreos before munching away. Yeah, like he'd never seen 'em before. Like he doesn't eat Oreos by the truckload every chance he gets. If Santa wants to save face, that's fine. I just wish he'd spend the off-season months taking a few lessons in subtlety.
Mare, Mista Snowman, Bird and Pauly Pooch all expected big things from Playmobil's "December 10th" box. The date, though without any true holiday ties or personal meanings for our friends, just seemed regal. Gathering around the lanky gift box, they collectively counted the minutes down and each privately dreamed of what might be in that box. Mare fantasized about a new coat, while Mista Snowman wondered if he'd be getting a second top hat to replace the one Mare stole. Visions of seeds and worms danced through Bird's head, and Pauly? He just hoped bones could come as long as that box.
Playing by Playmobil's rules, Mista Snowman was adamant that Mare not open up the box before midnight. What if Santa was watching? Mare went along with the charade, not so much to be a good sport, but because she secretly hoped Mista Snowman would melt before midnight so she could keep whatever was in there for herself. Not that she wouldn't have done that anyway. I mean, come on. You know how Mare is.
(click to enlarge)
12/10: MYSTERIOUS BOY!
Instead of a coat, or a hat, or seed, or a bone, the contents of Box #10 was the young man shown above. The Mysterious Boy. Unable to speak and apparently suffering from some rare form of toy amnesia, Mysterious Boy's jovial disposition only serves to mask his inner torment. Who is he? Why is he here? Why is he dressed to ski? These are questions he cannot answer. I curse myself for having been so rough with the box when I bought this thing -- I quite possibly knocked the smart right out of poor, poor Mysterious Boy.
Making matters worse, our new pal is joining a rather ragtag group of freaks who weren't getting along too well to begin with. As the tensions between Mare and Mista heighten, we're left to wonder what role Mysterious Boy will play. Will he save Mista Snowman from Mare, or simply choose to side with the creature that looks the most like him? And where the Hell did that snowy fence go?
