I guess I must have grown up a Nabisco Kid. I can still hear the mid-1980s jingle: the rising intonation of the company name followed by the sweet little “bing,” just like, I always imagined, a faerie’s wand, putting just a little bit of magic into my favorite snack cookie. Little Debbie was cute, but she never stood a chance.

While the Keebler Elves kind of creeped me out, and I’ve always preferred Premium brand saltine crackers to Nabisco’s Club, the Fig Newton is, I believe, among the very best of the brand’s bunch. And while I can’t really sign off on the “fruit and cake” assessment, the classic Fig Newton is no ordinary cookie. Neither is my grown-up version of it, a revision and expansion of David Lebovitz’ Fig Cookie recipe in his gorgeous cookbook, Room for Dessert.

You will need a couple of hours from start to finish, which may be split over two days if you like. I suggest starting with the filling, and letting it reduce and thicken while you make the cookie dough. When both the filling and the dough are well chilled, you’ll want a good-sized, cool workspace upon which to roll out the dough and assemble the cookie logs. I like working on a lightly-floured pastry cloth, as the cloth makes transferring the log to a cookie sheet quite easy. When I set to making these the first time, I was somewhat intimidated at the notion of making a filled cookie, but they are really quite simple.

Roll the dough out into rectangles, then make a row of filling in the middle.

Then brush the edges with water. Fold one side up, then the other.

Next, just press the short ends together to seal off the log and transfer to a lined baking sheet.

Bake until golden, about thirty minutes. Cool; slice.

I grew up eating Nabisco’s Nilla Wafers. They were a snack cupboard staple and I loved them. I loved them fresh and crisp, all rich butter-snap and artificial vanilla flavor. Sometimes, I would put an entire disc in my mouth, place it vertically between my teeth with my mouth open wide, seal my lips around the edges and breathe through the cookie, like a gas mask: Nilla Air. I also loved them stale, and soft. I’d suck on them until they disintegrated and I could press the crumbs into a ball with my tongue. I ate them right out of the box, by the handful. Sometimes, though not often, I’d dunk them in milk.

Maybe eight years ago or more, Nabisco changed the cookie’s recipe, and my love flagged a little bit. I don’t know what they did to the Nilla, and by now I doubt I could tell the difference. I only remember feeling awfully disappointed when I first realized they were different. I threw the whole package away. Perhaps my own tastes changed, but I don’t think so. The first few years were pretty rough, but, predictably, I got over the loss, stopped crying in the supermarket. I even forgot about them for a stretch. Now, I buy a box maybe once a year and I can appreciate them for what they are. The NewNilla isn’t so bad; it’s perfectly passable in fact.

I have come to believe, however, that I deserve a cookie that is more than passable. Imagine, then, how my little heart fluttered when I came upon a recipe for “Whole Wheat Vanilla Wafers” in my newly aquired Bob’s Red Mill Baking Book. I am still on the fence about the Baking Book, so I was eager to try out another recipe. And what better test than a potential Nilla-replacement? A Nilla for grown-ups.

I followed the recipe exactly as outlined in the book. This alone is a congratulatable feat for me. Halfway through mixing, I thought that adding some almond extract might be a good idea – or rolling the dough in sesame seeds before baking, or – - – I like to fuss. I think I know better. (and I do, but this is immodest.) In order to judge a new recipe, however, you really have to make it their way at least once, just to know what you’re working with. It would be a shame to set to improve something that’s already exactly what it ought to be. And, though most recipes are never even close to what they ought to be, I am making an effort to give them at least one shot to show me their stuff.

The verdict: I will never recapture the NillaLove of my youth. In order to make a facsimile of the original Nilla Wafers, I would have to use more sugar and more hydrogenated fats than I am prepared to put into a cookie. But this cookie, this Whole Wheat Vanilla Wafer that Bob’s got in his book, is pretty good. I don’t think I would call them “wafers,” but the vanilla flavor is right on, and the addition of whole wheat flour adds a level of complexity to both flavor and texture absent the Nabisco cookie. Bake them until they are just browning on the edges for a softer cookie; bake them until they are golden for a crisper one. Flatten them a little before you put them in the oven and they might be passable as “wafers,” but I think the little cookie mounds that I made are just fine.