Throughout snacking history, one chewy little cookie has stood head and shoulders above the rest - the Fig Newton
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How does so much tart, sugary ecstasy get harnessed within a cookie no larger than a bar of soap that has been used for two weeks? Unlike Who shot Kennedy?"" it's a question I can't begin to answer. But I can take you on a gooey journey through the spiritual history of a cookie that sells in excess of one billion a year.
Bacchus, the Roman god of wine and celebration, introduced figs to mortals. The fruit immediately caught on with orgy-goers and bridge clubs, and by the time Plato was beginning to pen ""The Republic"" it was already outselling Oreos by more than two hundred a fortnight.
Even before the gods delivered figs to mankind, the clever Sumerians managed to use it for medicinal purposes during their heyday about 3000 B.C. It is said the bestselling ""Epic of Gilgamesh"" was originally written on papyrus using fig jam, but ancient historians and storytellers couldn't resist the fruit's quiet allure and would lick off entire paragraphs during public readings!
The fig remained relatively unnoticed until it was appropriated for a daring, chewy pastry called ""Fig Newton"" by Charles M. Roser in 1891. Unnoticed, I should mention, by humans. Orangutans have always been notorious fig fiends - their entire social construct is based on fig consumption. They mainly eat figs, which do not grow in abundance. So in order to stay true to their favorite fruit they spend most of their time alone in one fig tree, which can provide enough substance for only one orangutan at a time.
But back to the birth of the Fig Newton, which by the way is not named after the famous dead guy who spent his spare time trying to sentence counterfeit money-makers to public execution. No, it's named after Newton, Massachusetts. Which really isn't that interesting, but neither is the Fig Newton.
The Fig Newton reached its peak of cultural influence during the '70s when Nabisco hired James Harder (later made famous for his role as 'Obscene Phone Caller One' in ""The Telephone Book"") to enliven figs' public image. Research groups had proven to Nabisco that although people enjoyed eating Fig Newtons, they were somewhat unsettled by consuming a fruit with such a reclusive, if not adversarial, relationship to the public.
Figs routinely refused joining well-wishing fruit baskets and being party to food pyramid posters, and it was rumored two prominent figs had once been members of the Black Panthers.
Enter Big Fig. James Harder donned a bulbous, green-brown fig outfit (in case you're wondering, a fig looks like a cross between a pear and a shrunken skull) that covered his entire body, excepting his bulbous, green-brown face. Practically spitting good-will (""Is it good? Darn tootin'!"") Big Fig used his 30 second TV commercials to invite the nation to join him in a dance called ""the Fig Newton,"" which consists of standing in one spot with your right leg raised behind you, your body leaning forward and arms stretched out.
The ad campaign couldn't have come at a better time. Americans were growing tired of dance crazes involving actual dancing (the nation would soon turn to raising Chia Pets as its sole outlet for physical activity) and latched onto the Fig Newton dance. Within months dance clubs were filled with people standing in place striking uncomfortable, statue-like poses.
The slogan for Fig Newtons this year is ""The cookie that thinks it is a fruit,"" but I much prefer the old adage, ""Figs are the fruit of autumn."" An ad campaign has yet to be made that exploits this saying. I see commercials starring children with leukemia or adults dying of cholera - people in the autumn of their lives - taking that last, graceful bite into a rewarding Fig Newton.
So before you die, grab a fig-filled cookie and enjoy what's left of the rest of your life. It might be shorter than you think.
Fig Newtons may not be the last thing you eat, but this is Joe's last food column. If you want to dance ""the Fig Newton"" with him to celebrate his successful year, e-mail him at jblynch@wisc.edu.
