Fresh, hot cookies for freshmen, sophs . . .

Seth Berkowitz wasn't happy with the late-night snack options available while he studied into the wee hours as a University of Pennsylvania student. Chinese? Over. Pizza? Too heavy. Tacos? No delivery. Where were the desserts?

So in the kitchen of the house he shared with nine other guys, Berkowitz began baking cookies because, he said, "that seemed the easiest option." As he honed his recipes and techniques - one time he tripled the butter, another time he forgot the eggs - he passed out his baked goods on campus and began offering a cookies-and-milk late-night delivery service.

Now, six years later, Berkowitz's Insomnia Cookies delivers more than a million cookies a year to students from 17 locations across the nation, from Michigan to South Carolina, West Virginia to Upstate New York. Some, like the original University of Pennsylvania location, offer delivery only. Others, like the newest at Temple University, have a walk-up window as well as a delivery option.

"It's been a wonderful run," said Berkowitz, whose company is now based in New York. "I've tried all sorts of things, but baking cookies is a tried and tested art."

Menu items include seven choices of "regular" cookies that sell for $1 each, including the companywide favorite, chocolate chunk; three "deluxe" cookies that sell for $2.25 apiece; a brownie; and a cookie cake that can be personalized with toppings like cookie dough - yes, cookie dough on a cookie - and chocolate mint pieces.

The fact that the cookies are always served warm and fresh out of the oven clearly adds to their appeal. Oversized and thick, they're gooey without being too mooshy, rich without being sickly sweet. The smell surrounding the truck is reminiscent of the ideal grandmother's kitchen, adding to the experience. Many customers come back for seconds, even thirds. It's unclear how the cookies will fare when stored, since few seem to meet that fate.

Delivery people serve a designated area around the college campuses, promising hot cookies in about 30 minutes between 8 p.m. and 2:30 a.m. And milk, too. "You can't have cookies without milk," Berkowitz said.

Berkowitz doesn't think of himself as a baker, perhaps especially in light of some of his notable early mixups. (That batch with three times the amount of butter went to his then-girlfriend. She forgave him the mixing mishap, however, and eventually married him.)

Berkowitz considers himself an entrepreneur, something Inc.com agreed with in 2007 when it named him one of their "30 Under 30: America's Coolest Young Entrepreneurs. The chief executive officer would like Insomnia Cookies to grow to 100 locales in the next five years.

The company opened its newset outlet at Temple University last month, a logo-wrapped truck parked near the Student Center. (Nationwide, Insomnia has eight truck stores that double as bakeries. It also uses stand-alone facilities or shares baking space with the colleges it serves.) Within days of opening, lines of eager eaters 20 deep waited for a hot snickerdoodle, or double chocolate, or two or three of each.

One of those first nights saw 800 customers, and manager Brad Minich said he was already noticing regulars, like Temple freshman Gabe Stellar. Stellar, 18, admitted to having had five cookies in a two-day period.

"They're really good. They're warm and worth the money," said Stellar, enjoying a sugar cookie around 9 one night. "It's the only thing open except McDonald's."

Fellow frosh Chelsea Lynch, 18, marveled at the chewiness of her chocolate chunk cookie and said she didn't see how a late-night cookie service could fail.

"It's true that students don't sleep," Lynch said. "Plus deliveries? Come on. . . ."

Cookie delivery man Andrew Caza, 20, started his career in baked goods a year ago at St. Joseph's University, then moved to Penn, and now handles Temple traffic. The Spring Garden resident bikes to his destinations, an insulated pack carrying cookies firmly attached to his back.

"There's not much downtime. I'm pretty much out all the time," said Caza, who said a typical night at Penn meant 30 deliveries during his 8 p.m.-to-3 a.m. shift.

"People love cookies in the middle of the night. They come to the door zombielike, but I'm not sure if it's from studying."

Watching buyers' negotiations, both internal and external, that take place outside the Insomnia truck is a sociologist's dream. One cold night, a group of male students approached the truck and quickly ordered a round of cookies, then stood nearby and chowed down, loudly proclaiming the sugary goodness.

"It hits the spot," said Tom Tran, 20, a sophomore eating a white chocolate macadamia nut. "It's a party in my mouth."

His friend Shin Ho, 20, finished one cookie and proclaimed, "I need one more." He rejoined the group with another white chocolate macadamia nut.

"This makes exercise worthless," said Ho, who is also a sophomore. "But it's totally worth the dollar."

When a trio of women came to the truck a short time later, the ordering process was slower, more deliberate. The three debated the possible merits and demerits of each flavor, pondered how big a $1 cookie would be, and eventually ordered two cookies each. They left with their bags, choosing not to nibble in the street.

"The discussions and energy that goes into deciding is amazing," said Joe Essenfeld, Insomnia's chief officer of operations.

Companywide, it seems that more women frequent Insomnia than men, he said, but it varies by store.

"You have such a varied demographic in colleges," he said. "A lot of times you'll see the guys go to Taco Bell and the girls go to us and then meet up."

Indeed, deliveryman Caza has noticed a high proportion of attractive women accepting his deliveries, but he wonders if that's an accurate reflection of those doing the ordering and the eating.

"They send the pretty girls down to get the cookies," he surmised, "so they don't feel bad about not tipping."