How do I know? Science! The kind of science we need, done by the smartest people in the country: researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
Sportswriters used to call boxing "the sweet science," for reasons unknown to anyone. (Irony? Did they not know what "sweet" and "science" meant?) But this? This is sweet science.
While other researchers were trying to create vaccines for deadly viruses or gain a deeper understanding of DNA or discover how life began, some folks at MIT were doing populist science: Creating what they called an "Oreometer" that used rubber bands and weighted coins to create enough force to twist apart cookies. Specifically, of course, Oreo cookies.
Rubber bands! Weighted coins! Science!
As a member of the pancreas-challenged community (I'm a Type 1 diabetic), Oreos are an element of my past, not my present or future. But being human for decades has taught me that Oreos are the greatest store-bought cookie (edging out either those Mother's circus animals or Chips Ahoy, depending on your preference) and what makes them special is the thing that the scientists tried to measure: The cream filling, which is almost universally consumed after the two cookies are split apart.
If we ate hamburgers like Oreos, we'd pull apart the buns and then lick the hamburger until it dissolved. Which would be gross, but remains a good definition. It's rumored that only sociopaths eat an Oreo without splitting it first (and only sociopaths eat hamburgers that way).
Anyway, the folks at MIT used the Oreometer to pull apart cookie after cookie. After, of course, writing a bunch of scientific gobbledygook to describe the plan and reason:
"Scientifically, sandwich cookies present a paradigmatic model of parallel plate rheometry in which a fluid sample, the crème, is held between two parallel plates, the wafers. When the wafers are counter-rotated, the crème deforms, flows, and ultimately fractures, leading to the separation of the cookie into two pieces."
Translation: You twist the cookie to get to the filling.
Their study found that regardless of how the cookies were twisted, the creamy filling tended to stay primarily on one wafer. And in those rare occurrences when the cream was split 50-50, it tended to chunk up on each wafer, not be spread around in an equitable manner: A glob on the bottom a glob on the top.
But since they are scientists, the MIT folks didn't settle with the idea that it's impossible to separate Oreos and get a 50-50 split on cream, which is where most of us would finish.
They hypothesized why: The researchers say that the manufacturing of Oreos involves machines dropping the cream on the bottom wafer, then adding the top wafer. That few moments of adherence to the first wafer is likely enough that it stays there for good.
In other words, the cream imprints on the first wafer. Like a baby bird.
So next time you split an Oreo to eat it (presuming you're not a sociopath), realize most of the cream stays with the wafer on which it imprinted.
Then scrape it off – but with your top teeth or bottom? I guess the folks at MIT have more studies to perform.
Reach Brad Stanhope at bradstanhope@outlook.com.
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