There’s a billboard just down the road from my local Carl’s Jr. that posits “Love is great, but food never broke my heart.”

Lies! You see, Hardee’s (who moonlights as Carl’s Jr. due to a grill experiment gone deliciously awry) was my tribe’s preferred burger joint back in the ’90s, when everything was better, from radio to the base grain of certain eagerly-anticipated monster-themed cereals. Family trips to Hardee’s were highlighted by curly fries. Sure, other chains had them (you’re a champ for sticking with it, Arby’s!), but the perfect blend of peppery orange curls came from the only chain bold enough to combine Apollo 13 with POGs. Sadly, much like that gravity-bending collab, curly fries were lost to fast food lore when Carl’s Jr. married into the clan.

So (artificially) color me surprised that you’re-not-my-real-dad’s counter-service conservatism was repealed for a moment to make way for Froot Loops…donuts?! That’s right, just as Kellogg’s cereals are striking back against the General Mills Halloween empire, those neon-hued rebels are also coming for your throne, Little Debbie. And if the Wars taught us anything, it’s that you shouldn’t underestimate the power of small, bright green packages.

The box design is pure money. Taking apparent inspiration from the ventilated McDonald’s apple pie delivery system, these rings are nestled comfortably in a container that reflects their dual heritage.

It’s an inspired, simplistic design that’s easy to appreciate once you get over the cognitive dissonance of seeing ya boy Toucan Sam chilling outside his aisle—like that time you ran into Mrs. Forman at the grocery store and your seven-year-old brain had its wires so crossed at the prospect of teachers not shutting themselves down in the corner of the classroom like some kind of educational robot that you inadvertently called her “mom” in front of your actual mother, after which she never forgave you.

…what?

Childhood trauma aside, the holes on this box beg the question: are these things fresh? McDonald’s pie holes (I’m going to take every chance I get here) exist to release steam, so I had to know if that was the plan. The friendly employee explained that, like the racing stripe on my fixed-gear bicycle, the holes are purely decorative. In fact, the donuts arrive in plastic sleeves at room temperature. Like some kind of micro-managing Noah, they’re then counted out so each box is uniform. It seems that what the wedding took away from Hardee’s in POG-esque abandon was made up for with NASA precision.

Well played, Carl.

(I admire Jared’s restraint to not swipe one of these on the spot. Talk about a collector’s item, even if they’d probably turn into ancient Egyptian sarcophagus juice within a month. — Dan)

Despite having a glow-in-the-blackness-of-space artificial coloring, these confections aren’t overpowering in their aroma. No, if anything I would say the scent is just a bit underwhelming, though perfectly spot-on. With eyes closed, it would take Elon Musk-level funds to detect that it’s not a bowl of Loops. The consistency is moist and crumbly. Very crumbly. So crumbly, it turns out, that the first one virtually collapsed in my fingers like an improperly constructed oxygen tank. The icing is especially dicey, flaking off at even a strong breeze (or inhalation, leading to the first documented case of Sam-itis). You have to approach these tender nuggets of citrusy sweet with a little more care than most donuts.

The flavor, like the bouquet, hits with scientific precision. I anticipated the burst of color to betray a cloyingly strong flavor, like my grandpa’s beloved iridescent green pickled eggs. I’m pleased to be proven wrong, as the taste itself is a mild, cakey ramp-up to that distinct Froot Loops aftertaste. It’s impressive. And much like the unsubstantiated claims that each Froot Loop has its own flavor, a blind comparison of the Froot-nuts doesn’t reveal any apparent diversity among the five.

We have to talk about the texture. When the employee revealed to me that these are tasty, yet fragile, he also clued me in to what he reported as the preferred way his crew consumes them: frozen. Yes, it turns out that those in the know (one guesses because they followed their nose) stick them in the freezer, a la Pop-Tarts. And so I did.

It’s a mixed result. The frustratingly flimsy texture of these Latter Day Little Debbies is helped astronomically by exposing them to the coldness of a vacuum (or, lacking that, an icebox). That savvy maneuver also tones down their Frootiness, unfortunately. So you can choose between a tasty Froot Loops cake that melts in your mouth along with your hand, or a solid donut consistency that doesn’t carry so much Froot flavor as mildly lemon-tinged cake. In both cases, the rub is that they are oily enough to demand milk. Since their natural environment is more soda-oriented, you may have to settle for iced tea to wash away the lingering sweetness.

In the end, despite some questionable structural integrity, these little guys show that mixed marriages really can work out, no matter how many light-years apart their families may be.

The Bowl: Carl’s Jr. / Hardee’s Froot Loops Mini Donuts

The Breakdown: With an aroma and backend that deliver on the promise, this perplexing union of pastry and pantry make for a treat that surprises with its moist crumb. The sticky-sweet oiliness wants for milk, but these Sooper Loops are too fragile to take it.

The Bottom Line: 7.5 nostalgic pickled astro-Twinkies out of 10

(Big thanks to Jared for sending in this great review, especially when my geographically isolated self is too far from a Hardee’s/Carls Jr. Oh, and speaking of which, shame on Hardee’s for leaving me on read after promising a DM conversation about the donuts. You’ve left a you-know-what kind of hole in my heart.)