National Cookie Day is here to remind us just how blessed we are, and in honor of the holiday, we've gone ahead and created a totally arbitrary list of some of the best mass-produced cookies in the US.
It's the cookie's day, after all.
These are fine: Bite-sized, brittle, just sweet enough but also chalky. Leave these in an open sleeve in the box for too long and they'll soften and become inedible. They're best as a textural surprise at the bottom of a banana pudding.
The old reliable of vending machines everywhere, Famous Amos cookies have an enviable chocolate-to-dough ratio for their diminutive size. They're a bit sandy, but they've hooked generations of kids who've misused their lunch money.
These don't taste as great as you remember, but they're the only cookies on this list that tell a story. The peel-off dough balls bloom in the oven to reveal a misshapen Snoopy, a jolly pumpkin and a lopsided Christmas tree. Many of them will burn; that's a given. But doesn't nostalgia taste even better?
Substituting measly chocolate chips for the far more powerful M&Ms is masterful. These little rainbow joys are reminiscent of the candy-dotted cookies you could only find in mall food courts, and far more chocolatey than, hmm, the rock-like Chips Ahoy (again, you won't find those here).
The cookie itself is a bit chalky like Famous Amos, but those bulging globes of rainbow chocolate elevate these far beyond the competition.
Nothing said maturity to a school-aged kid more than showing up at lunchtime with these vaguely European wafers. Are these cookies meant to be Italian? Kids could care less, when there's that luxurious fudge that glues the two biscuits together. Whenever these melted in lunchboxes, the results were catastrophic -- and tragic, for the waste of an excellent cookie.
Whatever the Keebler Elf is doing in that little treehouse bakery of his is absolutely working, because these are a DELIGHT! The ribbons of fudge that blanket the donut-shaped shortbread reveal a back that is coated in more fudge. Your mouth and hands will also be coated in fudge by the time you're done snacking.
These cookies are drama. You spot them out of the corner of your eye at a holiday party, and suddenly they're all you can think about -- the frosting laid on so thick it sticks to the roof of your mouth and dyes your tongue. These cookies inspire division among coworkers, who dislike the pillowy soft sugar cookie and the stingingly sweet frosting. But that division means nothing to people like you, who swore fealty to this cookie long ago. These cookies feign modesty, but they know by the end of the party, they'll be gone.
Is this a surprise to anyone? It shouldn't be. Oreos are perfect. They're dunkable, stackable and completely bingeable. Whether you peel off the vanilla cream patty (sacrilegious, in this writer's opinion) or eat the cookie in its entirety as Nabisco intended, their sublimity cannot be denied.