Fi­nally, a keg of crack­ers worth a happy dance for Mike


This is how much my wife loves me: Last week she bought me 12 pounds of crack­ers.

That’s a keg of crack­ers, folks, and a lot of love. For­tu­nately for me, I get to show her how much I love her on our next an­niver­sary by pur­chas­ing her 12 pounds of some­thing, prob­a­bly di­a­monds. Crack­ers for me, di­a­monds for her. That sounds about right.

But th­ese aren’t just any crack­ers, th­ese are ab­so­lutely the best crack­ers in the his­tory of crack­ers. They’re called “CheeseCrisps,” all­nat­u­ral sour­dough squares of ched­dar and asi­ago, and they’re made by a New Jersey com­pany called John Wm. Macy’s Cheese­s­ticks. I have no idea why Mr. Macy ab­bre­vi­ates his mid­dle name — I think he should change it to John “Yummy” Macy’s CheeseCrisps — or why there is no space be­tween the words “cheese” and “crisp.”

It doesn’t mat­ter, though, be­cause th­ese crack­ers are just that dadgummed good. But here is the prob­lem: Costco used to carry the crack­ers and ev­ery time we’d shop there, I’d grab a bag. They’re a bit pricey, around $8 for a 22-ounce bag, but we both liked them so much that it seemed ev­ery time we went to Costco, we would come home with more. One bag, then two and so on un­til the min­i­mum num­bers of bags we’d get on each visit would be four. And they’d last all of about four hours once we got them home. They’re so good that peo­ple from the neigh­bor­hood would see us car­ry­ing LQ DUPORDGV RI WKH FUDFNHUV DQG fiYH min­utes later, some­body would be knock­ing at our door say­ing, “Hey, can I bor­row a wheel bar­rel full of th­ese CheeseCrisps?”

And then one day, Costco ran out of CheeseCrisps. For weeks and weeks, ev­ery time we’d shop at Costco, I’d mope over to where the dis­play used to be and … noth­ing. And then I’d mope around the Costco go­ing from tast­ing sta­tion to tast­ing sta­tion look­ing for CheeseCrisps. It was a pa­thetic dis­play of mop­ery.

Even when I wasn’t on the Costco shop­ping ex­cur­sion, I’d have The Blonde Ac­coun­tant send me a text mes­sage on whether the CheeseCrisps had been re­stocked.

Noth­ing. Nada. Squadoosh. For months and months.

And then one night last week, I was stand­ing in the kitchen look­ing for a snack and The Blonde Ac­coun­tant came into the room sport­ing a big smile, her hands be­hind her back. “Guess what I found?” she said. It had been so long since we’d had CheeseCrisps, that they weren’t DPRQJ Py fiUVW IHw JuHVVHV. 6KH then pulled her hands from be­hind her back and pre­sented me with a 4.5-ounce box of CheeseCrisps.

Now don’t get me wrong, I was happy to once again have CheeseCrisps on which to snack. And cer­tainly the reap­pear­ance of the crack­ers af­ter such a long ab­sence was enough for me to spon­ta­neously break into the “Snoopy Happy Dance” right there in the kitchen.

But a 4.5-ounce box of CheeseCrisps com­pared to a 22-ounce bag of CheeseCrisps? I can stick my whole face in a 22-ounce bag and with one deep breath, in­hale 4.5-ounces of CheeseCrisps. (I be­lieve that if John Wm. Macy mar­ket­ing de­part­ment em­ploy­ees were a savvy bunch, they would put me in the ad cam­paign with my face buried in a 22-ounce bag of CheeseCrisps.)

What’s more, The Blonde AcFRuQWDQW GLGQ’W HYHQ fiQG WKH FUDFNers at Costco, she found them at a de­part­ment store. And she got the last two boxes the store had. Fur­ther re­search on the John Wm. Macy web­site — www.cheese­s­ — re­veals that Costco is cur­rently the com­pany’s only cus­tomer for the 22-ounce bags of CheeseCrisps.

“This prod­uct is cur­rently of­fered re­gion­ally in the U.S. and Canada for lim­ited time pe­ri­ods de­ter­mined by Costco’s snack buy­ers,” the Macy web­site states. “We would rather have our CheeseCrisps avail­able year-round. If they are not cur­rently avail­able in your lo­cal Costco, please let them know how much you’d liked to see this prod­uct back in stock.”

Which means the next time you pick up the pa­per, check the po­lice briefs. If there is an item in there about a 53-year-old male tack­ling a Costco snack buyer to the ground in the Mont­gomeryville store and shout­ing “Where are the bleepin’ CheeseCrisps you hack!” you’ll know the back­story.

Be­ing the good wife that she is, The Blonde Ac­coun­tant saw my de­light at be­ing pre­sented a small box of CheeseCrisps — which by the way I did in­deed in­hale in about three min­utes — and im­me­di­ately got on the John Wm. Macy web­site and made the or­der for a whole bunch of bags or crack­ers to­tal­ing 12 pounds.

By the time you read this, the trac­tor-trailer will have backed into my drive­way and dumped the crack­ers in front of my garage. If you are driv­ing by my house, please do not stop and ask for any CheeseCrisps be­cause I will not share them. Go buy your own truck­load.

Be­lieve me, th­ese crack­ers … are all they’re cracked up to be.

Mike Morsch is ex­ec­u­tive ed­i­tor of Mont­gomery Me­dia and au­thor of the book, “Danc­ing in My Un­der­wear: The Sound­track of My Life.” He can be reached by call­ing 215-542-0200, ext. 415 or by email at msquared35@ya­ This col­umn can also be found at www. mont­

Mike Morsch

Outta Left­field

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