Oreo Balls

by Breanna Jones

"oreo balls" by eggrole is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

Ingredients:

• 1 (14 oz) package of Oreo cookies
• 1 (8 oz) package cream cheese, softened
• 12 oz white chocolate (almond bark or melting chocolate)

Directions:

1. Place the Oreo cookies in a food processor and crush until they become fine crumbs. (If you don’t have a food processor, place them in a zip-top bag and crush them.)
2. In a large bowl, combine the Oreo crumbs with softened cream cheese. Mix until smooth and well blended.
3. Roll the mixture into 1-inch balls and place them on a baking sheet lined with wax paper.
4. Chill the balls in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour (or 20 minutes in the freezer) until firm.
5. Melt the white chocolate in a microwave-safe bowl, stirring every 30 seconds until smooth.
6. Dip each Oreo ball into the melted white chocolate, coating completely, and place back on the wax paper.
7. Allow the chocolate to harden before serving.

Aunt Debbie’s Gift

Every year when my birthday or Christmas comes around, I know exactly what I will be getting from my Aunt Debbie: a tin of Oreo balls. At first glance, that might not seem like much, but in my family, they mean everything. Aunt Debbie is my Mamaw’s sister, and like many sisters, they can bicker. Sometimes their fussing makes us all laugh, and other times we shake our heads because we know they’ve done this their whole lives. But no matter how much they go back and forth, Aunt Debbie is one of the most important people in our family. She shows her love in quiet ways, and for me, that love has always come wrapped in chocolate.

I live with my grandparents, so the kitchen is the heart of our home. Every morning, I am greeted with the smell of coffee drifting through the air, the sound of spoons clinking against mugs, and the hum of my grandparents talking about the day ahead. It’s a cozy rhythm, one that feels safe and steady. But on birthdays or Christmas, the kitchen feels different. That’s when Aunt Debbie’s gift shows up: a shiny tin wrapped in foil. I always know what’s inside, but the excitement never fades. When I peel back the foil and lift the lid, I feel this excitement run throughout my body. There are rows of semi-perfectly round Oreo balls, dipped in smooth white chocolate. They look like little treasures lined up just for me.

The first bite is always the best part. The white chocolate cracks slightly under my teeth before melting into the soft, dark Oreo filling. It’s creamy, sweet, and rich, but more than that, it feels like home. I could eat them all by myself, but I never do. As soon as the tin is opened, my grandparents are right there at the table with me. I offer them one, and usually everyone takes one. It’s become a routine we all know well; the gift is made for me, but the joy belongs to all of us. Before long, we’re sitting together, laughing, telling old stories, and wiping chocolate from our fingers with napkins scattered across the table.

Our family is small, but that has never mattered. What we may lack in size, we make up for in closeness. Aunt Debbie’s Oreo balls are more than a treat; they are a tradition, a reminder that the simplest things can mean the most. She may not be around us every day, but each year when she sends that tin, it feels like she is right there at our table. The Oreo balls connect us to her, to one another, and to all the memories we’ve built over the years.

To me, Oreo balls taste like more than just chocolate and crushed cookies. They taste like birthdays where I feel celebrated, Christmas mornings filled with love, and evenings at the kitchen table where laughter seems to stretch on forever. They remind me that in a family as small as ours, love doesn’t need to be loud, even though it doesn’t seem that way. It can be rolled into a ball, dipped in chocolate, and handed over in a simple tin. And year after year, those Oreo balls remind me that I am loved, that family traditions matter, and that something so small can hold the biggest meaning.