Note: though Chocolate is included in this lineup of new boxes, I won’t be reviewing it here, since it’s unchanged. You can find my original review here.

Tony, my man. Can I call you Tony Baloney?

No?

How about Riga-Tony? Tonyboy? Tony Island Mile-High Chili Dogs?

Alright, fine, let’s just get down to business…Anthony. Fact of the matter is, I’m impressed. You’re really embracing your right brain lately. I know it can be tempting to trust your business sense and realize that you could probably finance the entire Frosted Flakes brand interminably just by cheaply chucking in new marbits and mixing together existing cereals. But as much of a smart tiger as you are, I can tell you’re truly an artist at heart. And an athlete, too—geez, no wonder the Twitter furries thirsted you off the platform: you’ve got it all!

You’re so creatively inclined that you decided to bless us with not one, but two twinkling new cereal flavors—and neither have chintzy, redundant marshmallows! Sure, my bar for being impressed by new cereals has limboed lower and lower over the past purgatorial half year of lazy cereal-smithing, but hey, I’m going to stay positive and tackle the Strawberry Milkshaked and Cinnamon French Toasted fruits of your labor with gusto.

Strawberry Milkshake Frosted Flakes Review

I’ll be straight-up: this cereal doesn’t taste great when eaten straight out of the box, and I’m convinced it was never intended to be. I mean, they’re not called Strawberry Dryshake Frosted Flakes, after all.

When you nosh Strawberry Milkshake Frosted Flakes by the mitt-full, you get a tongue-wrinkling wallop revealing just how artificial the strawberry flavor is here. On the Pink-Starburst-To-Real-Strawberry continuum of fruited legitimacy, these sugary shards of rose quartz (corn-tz?) bravely shatter pre-established boundaries and chart new chemically synthesized frontiers.

And don’t get me wrong, I love a good artificial strawberry. Pink Laffy Taffy are one of my favorite candies, period. But the front-end of this fake fruitiness here tastes more like a strawberry lip balm or physically consumed scratch ‘n’ sniff sticker. It mellows out of over the course of each bite, but it’s still sharp enough to leave me clenching my jaw in anticipation of that first flavor-blasted taste bud splashdown.

That’s how they taste dry, at least. The box practically begs you to eat Strawberry Milkshake Frosted Flakes with milk and experience their color/life-changing goodness. And that box is right, folks. Milk improves things tenfold, if not fourteenfold or even perhaps twentysevenfold. Just like how you wouldn’t simply eat Strawberry Nesquik powder, you have to use milk to dilute and disperse these Frosted Flakes’ intensely concentrated fake strawberriness. The result is a far creamier, smoother and more enjoyable taste, with delightfully rosy endmilk. It’s a far cry from that of a real strawberry shake, but I’d be inclined to believe it’s what a hypothetical Pink Laffy Taffy Shake might taste like.

A Pink Laffy Taffy Shake with pulp, at least.

Ultimately, Strawberry Milkshake Frosted Flakes are at least pretty good, assuming you eat them milked and eat them fast enough to avoid Critical Sog. It’s a good choice for fake strawberry cereal fans, mostly because it’s the only real choice out there, since we’re too early for Franken Berry (these Flakes are better anyway), and the likes of Strawberry Pop-Tart Cereal, Strawberry Toast Crunch, and Strawberry Honeycomb have all been discontinued. R.I.P. (Rest in Pink)

The Bottom Line: 7 chewed Chapsticks out of 10

Cinnamon French Toast Frosted Flakes Review

Whereas Strawberry Milkshake feels like a very setting-specific Frosted Flakes variety, I’m pleased to report that Cinnamon French Toast Frosted Flakes is a total renaissance crunch, enjoyable dry or…wet, if you want to put it that way.

Now if you were expecting an essential reboot of Cinnamon Frosted Flakes, you’re bound to be disappointed, as Cinnamon French Toast Frosted Flakes aren’t as pointedly cinnamon spiced, instead letting the cereal’s subtle sweet cinnamon take a backseat to more buttery, caramelized, and even slightly maple-y overtones.

So appetizingly entangled are these various flavors that it’s hard to pinpoint each one. Good thing you don’t need to scrutinize Cinnamon French Toast Frosted Flakes to understand their appeal. The whole mouthful tastes like a cozy medley of golden brown goodness, and milk only serves to further meld it all together into one comforting cereal tongue-hug. I even think Cinnamon French Toast Frosted Flakes outshine General Mills’ French Toast Crunch, with the latter having an airier and blander base compared to the sharp crispness of Frosted Flakes—though FTC does have better sog stamina.

I certainly enjoyed CFT Frosted Flakes, with my only gripe being an inevitable one: I’m not a huge fan of Frosted Flakes, as I like my cereals to be denser and subsequently more satiating. Plus, since I’m older than 18, these Frosted Flakes now taste so sweet that I can hear my molars hum like an electric toothbrush—a tool I sorely oughta use after gumming up my mouth with so much rolled corn.

Over all, though, nice work with Cinnamon French Toast Frosted Flakes, Pepperoni Tony. I’d even say they’re GRR-eat, but you already seem upset with me, and I don’t want your next cereal flavor to be Bloggerberry.

The Bottom Line: 8.5 tiny, spurned bread slices  10