Deceit! A winding path of secrets and falsehoods! On tonight’s edition of I Want M(Oreo) we investigate Neapolitan Oreos and their web of lies.

Recently introduced as a new flavor, the Neapolitan Oreos may fool someone who hasn’t spent two decades tracking Oreo’s every movement, but they didn’t fool me. Previously, in 2012 (oh remember those halcyon days when we didn’t need to worry about everything — er, um, actually, we should’ve still been worrying about everything, but we were living in the heyday of Oreo new flavors at least?), they released a triple-double Neapolitan Oreo. The triple-double name referred to three layers of cookie to two layers of creme, a club sandwich of Oreos. In basketball, of course, a triple-double refers to having double-digits of three types of performance highlights: points, rebounds, assists, etc. The Neapolitan Oreo’s triple-double unfortunately had no such performance highs in mind. The three cookie layers were the standard Golden (vanilla) Oreo wafer and a layer of chocolate creme and strawberry creme. The strawberry creme overwhelmed everything with the buoyantly suspicious taste of artificial fruit. The only slam dunk involved was me slamming a fist onto the table in sorrow.

So, basically, what I’m taking a paragraph to say is that I had somewhat lowered expectations for the Neapolitan retread. That is, until, Oreo hinted at something amazing. . . . They were releasing a new wafer flavor to accompany the three-creme filling monstrosity. I have a relationships with new Oreo wafer flavors that is very akin to the celebrity crushes of a thirteen-year-old: full of yearning, idolatry, and the small, intruding thought that the real thing may not live up to what I see on the screen. After the introduction of the Golden Oreo, new wafer flavors were few and far between for many years. But, more recently, Oreo has been upping the game: graham-flavored wafers for their pie and s’more creations (such as Key Lime, RIP, we loved you more than you could ever know); a gingery and orange carrot cake wafer; the salt topped chocolate wafer that arrived with the Salted Caramel Brownie Oreo; and more.

The new wafer for this particular concoction? Waffle Cone. I mean shut the front door. WAFFLE CONE? In the scale of ice cream cones, the Waffle Cone stands undefeated well above all other options. Its stroopwafel notes of caramel-y cinnamon balancing out any ice cream flavor. Genius. 5 stars. 11/10. But could this be captured in an Oreo wafer form?

Before I answer this provocative question, follow me on a short journey to discover a little more about Neapolitan ice cream. We love a little context with our sugar. Early on in the history of ice cream, Neapolitan actually referred to any three flavor combination of flavors. So, in addition to the now ubiquitous chocolate-vanilla-strawberry, the name also would encompass the far superior spumone (pistachio, cherry, and chocolate — which was often also enhanced with a nut like hazelnuts or almonds). However, the more common flavor combination that we see today eventually won out as the preferred (at least in the US) combination. While, all three flavors on their own can be delightful — rich chocolate, fresh strawberry, and complex vanilla — together they are all feel . . . lesser.

My theory is that in order to make it so that no one flavor became dominant, the majority of ice cream makers decided to go with the absolute middle-ground approach to each one. We get a solidly nuanced milk chocolate, a creamy but layerless vanilla, and a strawberry that tastes like it came from a box. Because it did. Neapolitan ice cream seemed to say: please indulge in three harmless flavors, you will find it pleasant. And it can be. I love a Neapolitan ice cream sandwich as much as the next person. But I wouldn’t reach for the flavor, if I was in front of the ice cream selection in the store, unless if I wanted to mildly satisfy three ice cream fans who each had a favorite flavor in the combination. Neapolitan is the Friends of ice cream: palatable to many, delicious to few.

Now that I’ve provided some sufficient (overly detailed) set-up, it’s time for the review. Neapolitan Oreos: yay or nay? The packaging has an appealing ice cream advert drawing of a mounded Neapolitan ice cream peeking out of a waffle cone bowl. In front of the bowl is one of the cookies standing on its edge to show off the new waffle-gridded wafer. Opening the package, I was met with an intriguing mix of cinnam — oh god, why is artificial strawberry the only smell?? It did not bode well. But first bite’s first, I took a chomp. A satisfying crunch was quickly overpowered by strawberry. I felt like I’d fallen into a vat of Lipsmackers.

After a quick gulp of milk, I carefully slid one wafer off a second cookie to try it without the creme. And suddenly, I was impressed? The waffle cone wafer cookie has a delicately caramel and cinnamon taste — like a crunchy stroopwafel. It was in fact crunchy enough that it was texturally different than a normal Oreo wafer, with a pleasant snapping quality. If this wafer was paired with the vanilla creme (or dare I dream — a cinnamon), it would quickly be one of my favorite of the limited edition Oreos. Unfortunately, the strawbomination creme simply removes all other flavors in the cookie. On Neapolitan attempt number two, Oreo soared for new heights but fell into the trap of so many. But please, Oreo, keep the waffle cone wafer? I believe in it.

I Want M(Oreo): NeapoliNOTAGAIN was originally published in ANMLY on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.