April 30: Not So Famous Amos

In Mrs. Cole's third grade class, we were required to do reports on influential African Americans. Some people went the boring route and chose Martin Luther King Jr. or Rosa Parks. Being the natural clown that I am, I did my report on Bill Cosby. I remember we were asked to do something more than just a written report, but I can't remember what I did or what I learned about the Coz. In fact, I remember my classmate Doug's report and presentation on Wally Amos and his "Famous" cookies more than my own.

When your primary objective in life is to act like an idiot and try to make people laugh, you care more about cookies than human rights. Perhaps that's what caused me to remember Doug's report. I'm a big fan of the cookie and all things related to it. I can do a spot-on imitation of Cookie Monster's C is for Cookie and I often fantasize about the chip warmer at work being filled with homemade cookies instead of corn chips. Whenever I go home or my parents visit me, my mom bakes cookies and I usually eat five to six a day until the batch is gone.

Now, when I say that I remembered my friend's presentation, I don't mean that I remember everything about the cookie pioneer. I just remember Doug bringing in homemade cookies for the class as a part of his report. He did such a convincing job of telling the story and struggles of Wally that he had every eight-year-old in that class drooling at the thought of a good cookie. Because the report was on Famous Amos and Doug brought in the tasty treats, the two became synonymous with each other.

Since that day 19 years ago, every time I see a bag of Famous Amos cookies, I think of Doug and his report. I think about how well the report was presented to the class and how I've always longed to have a fresh Famous Amos cookie. These thoughts circle through my mind every time I hold a bag in my hands and open the package. I dream about being in the kitchen with Amos as I pop that first bite-sized cookie into my mouth. I am, however, instantly extremely disappointed as soon as that dry, dusty texture touches the surface of my tongue.

Store-bought Famous Amos cookies are little discs of sand embedded with flavorless chocolate chips. I've never been a fan of Chips Ahoy and their obnoxious animated cookie mascot. Famous Amos cookies are just slightly better than the Nabisco snack and not by much. When I pop a cookie into my mouth, I want my taste buds to dance and throw little parties on my tongue. Unless I purposefully freeze it, a cookie should be soft and chewy. It should be flavorful and cause me to salivate. A cookie should not send me in search of the nearest water fountain. Don't get me started on dipping a Famous Amos Cookie into a glass of milk! I might as well dunk a rock and pop it into my mouth. Come to think of it, that might actually be better than the compacted sawdust chunk that is a Famous Amos.

Obviously I never had the pleasure of having an original, but I guarantee that if they were anything like the nonperishable mess that I know and hate, Amos never would have gained the distinctive title of being famous. He never would have found himself in that dynamic trio that he's in with Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth. On the other hand, if his original cookie was as disgusting as it is today, I wouldn't have anything to complain about on April 30. So, in a way, I want to thank you, Wally. Thank you for sucking.