Category Archives: Reviews

Review: Blueberry Cheerios

General Mills New Blueberry Cheerios Review Cereal Box

With Violet Beauregarde, one of the Blue Man Group guys (the quiet, sensitive one), and Paul Giamatti’s character Marty Wolf in the seminal 2002 classic film Big Fat Liar as my witnesses, I will never stop preaching the good word of Kellogg’s Fruity Snacks—specifically the blueberry ones.

Ever since Scooby-Doo fruit snacks, another object of my analogical fixation, changed their packaging and recipe for the worse, Kellogg’s Fruity Snacks are undoubtedly the best bite-sized bits of gelatin you can find in the Snacks, Etc. aisle. In fact, I’d say they’re third in my personal gummy candy fandom, surpassed only by blue sharks (essentially blueberry Fruity Snacks that’ve evolved predatory instinct) and Venus de Milo herself.

Yes, the potently juicy flavor of each Kellogg’s Fruity Snack, be it straw-, rasp-, or blueberry, is both refined and instantly recognizable. But it’s that last cerulean snack—which I also love for looking like a video game mana potion—that I’ve most wanted to see translated into a cereal again. Too often in mixed berry cereals, the flavor scientists paint the whole flavortown red, giving little leeway for the subtlety of blueberry to shine through. Yet every time there’s been an exception, the result is wonderful—even if it inevitably results in discontinuation, too. Whether they’re Tiny Toasts (turned Toast Crunches) or Muffin Tops that inspire sponsored meals, blueberry cereal is a refreshing, yet underrated experience—much like the first swing set underdog during a brisk late-fall recess.

The moment I heard about Blueberry Cheerios, I hoped this was my chance to taste blueberry gummy jam spread across toasted grain once more. So no pressure, General Mills: but if you get this one wrong, you’ll have to sculpt me a gummy Dionysus as penance.

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Review: Baked AF Cereal Box Bundt Cakes

Baked AF Cereal Bundt Cakes Review

7, 13, 42, 69: different cultures have deemed just about every number as “lucky” over the ages, but for my Honey Bunches of Money, no numeral quite brings peace like a dozen: I mean, it’s got zen right in the name! And when I gaze upon twelve doughnuts, mini bundt cakes, or fluid ounces of coffee mixed with Snickers* creamer**, I can’t help but feel my anxieties abdicate my abdomen to free up precious real estate for doughy delight.

That’s why, when the aptly named DJ Baby Bundt Cake on Twitter offered to mail me a dozen of his bakery Baked AF‘s new cereal-inspired confections, I couldn’t help but start raking my front yard into a zen garden whilst camped out catching koi in Animal Crossing, all in anticipation of the coming mail carrier, who would bestow a satchel of divine delicacy upon me like an unknowing bodhisattva.

*I don’t mess around when it coming to doughnut dunking.
*I also colloquially call this dense nectar “Thickers Coffee Creamer.” Continue reading

Review: Tropical Froot Loops from Mexico!

Kellogg's Mexico Tropical Froot Loops Review Box

(Note: the box got a just a little dinged during its journey North. Must’ve been hungry carrier pigeons.)

Look, are we all just going to ignore the fact that, before Tropical Froot Loops, Toucan Sam clearly had no idea what fruit is?

And I’m not talking the layperson’s misclassification of pumpkins and tomatoes as vegetables—follow your nose deep into your noggin and try to remember the last time you heard Froot Loops’ lifelong spokesbird actually reference a real fruit by name. Lemonberries, starberries, wildberries: all ambiguous amalgamations of nature’s genuine bounty invented to hide the fact that “Froot” is much less of a natural flavor than it is a state of mind kids can tastefully chase outside the bounds of reality and into whichever adjacent universe where the grass is limeberry green and the fruit salads are crunchy.

[Though to Sam’s credit, his original iteration did wear a fruit-flocked Carmen Miranda hat. My two-pronged rebuttal to this is a) toucans can’t pass the mirror test, so he’s likely never recognized his own headgear, and b) the first Toucan Sam was undoubtedly throttled by the current Toucan Sam’s slenderly feathered man fingers.]

Thankfully, Froot Loops in Mexico largely preserve the two-dimensional Toucan Sam design of yore, though the worryingly articulate prehensility with which he’s gripping the Tropical Froot Loop on this box still leaves me concerned he’ll snap—or at least snap half the universe away. Continue reading

Review: Trader Joe’s Cocoa Crunch Cereal

Trader Joe's Cocoa Crunch Cereal Review Box

My advertising headcanon:

The Trader Joe’s chief executive sits down to his moderately-priced (though sustainably sourced and crafted by local upper-class private school artisans) desk, attired in a three-piece Hawaiian print suit, and lays into his most recent scheme to take over weirdly specific niche markets. Sort of like J. Jonah Jameson, but with flip-flops.

“Darn it, Leonard!” His assistant’s name is Leonard, I’ve decided. “Bring me identical versions of classic sugary cereals, but without gluten! No more gluten! If it glutes, it goes!”

At this point, poor Leonard readjusts his glasses between harrowingly scribbled notes, too cowed to make eye contact with Mr. Joe. “Y-yes, T.J. Got it. And what should we do about the box art?”

A flash of wrath crosses Trader Joe’s face for an instant, before he reconsiders. “Class. That’s what the cereal aisle is missing. Come up with the most elegant possible image and slap it on both sides. Think minimal. We’ll save on advertising and appeal to kids at the same time.”

“Yes, T.J. But… how will tasteful stock photography draw in children?”

The ire returns. “Darn it, Leonard!” He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a small paperback book, slapping it on the desk as everyone in the building collectively winces. “This is what today’s youth want! Get me this author! She’s going to change everything!”

And that’s how Trader Joe’s recent box art came to be designed by Marie Kondo.

In another recent salvo toward more gluten-freedom, the company has paired its prior spheroid offering with a sister release—this one a bit more along traditional cereal lines. In both shape and constitution, Trader Joe’s Gluten Free Cocoa Crunch Cereal is unmistakably meant for comparison with Cocoa Puffs. It’s a puzzling move, then, to adorn the box with a deftly arranged photo of someone’s zakka-inspired place setting with the audacious phrase “serving suggestion.” But you know what? Fine. If that’s how we’re going to play it, then this review needs to go all-in.

Time to one-up this understated high-brow aesthetic. Continue reading

Review: Annie’s Organic Friends Bunnies Cereal

Annie's Organic Friends Bunnies Chocolate Vanilla Honey Cereal Review Box

Let’s talk turkey. Or bunnies, to be seasonally appropriate.

When you’re reviewing breakfast fare, a scale is necessary. I won’t feign presumptions on how those who write about lesser foodstuffs manage to assign numerical ratings. What constitutes a perfect 10 in, say, pizza? Are there dual systems for thin crust and deep dish? Such are the fodder phantasms that haunt my countertop in the night.

Comparatively, then, I’m grateful for pantry paragons that act as polestars. We know that no cereal on the market today can, however mighty, topple Cracklin’ Oat Bran from its lofty position—even if matched by other exceptional staples. But it’s hard to compare everything against the crème de la crunch. Once in a while, we need to be reminded that superb bowls (heyoo!) exist only in light of normal, unremarkable cereal. We grade Gaussian around these parts, folks, no matter how much one may love log.

So Annie’s released a new cereal. Sort of. Remember Annie’s Homegrown? They make feel-good versions of classic favorites, like organic boxed mac and cheese, organic graham crackers, and organic fruit gummies, all in the shape of their lagomorph mascot. It’s a cute concept, often with a nightmare-conjuring price tag. This one, for instance, runs over $4 USD at my local Walmart for a relatively dinky box.

Naturally, one assumes that quality costs more. And although that hasn’t been the case historically, hare hops spring eternal. Continue reading

Review: Honey Brunches of Oats Chicken & Waffles + Maple Bacon Donut Cereals!

Post & Honey Brunches of Oats Chicken & Waffles + Maple Bacon Donut Cereals Review

National Cereal Day is a funny holiday.

See, despite the best efforts of cereal curators and Ralston researchers such as myself, no one knows exactly when this crunchiest day of the year was first commemorated, nor who it was that first raised their (presumably) marble mug–bowl hybrid to propose the occasion. That said, if you’d like to pretend it was my Great Grand-Pappy Cerealously IV, a humble Crunch Berry farmer from the milkily humid tropics, I wouldn’t be opposed.

All we know is that since the day starting gaining mainstream traction near the turn of the 21st century, National Cereal Day has remained more popular amongst food and local news outlets than other, more contested days. Perhaps it’s a testament to the comparative cultural significance of breakfast cereal, or perhaps just to the PR power of big cereal companies—bless them all for stocking my pantry in time for National Napping Day next week.

Regardless of the date’s disputed origins, it almost always creeps up on me like a ghost in the night or the smotherly love of a 5am house cat. I tend to myself awakening in disbelief to “March 7th” on the calendar, scrambling past my plans for scrambled eggs to write something fitting for this blog’s bona fide breakfast star. But this year, my resolve was steely and my focus was clear: I simply had to write about the already-legendary Honey Brunches of Oats flavors Post has released to both celebrate National Cereal Day and potentially initiate a bold new phase of the foodstuff’s future:

A dawning golden-brown—and perhaps, eventually, honey-mustardy—era of savory cereal.

Both these bite-sized barn animals have already been spotted in both Giant Eagle and Walmart stores, but my journey from farm to pantry was more of an a-graze-ing race. The kind folks at Post offered to send me a box, but after a postal system error—during which I cursed imagined package thieves before pitying them for the surprisingly fowl bounty they were about to unbox—I had to leave a polite mailbox note and desperately wait to hear from a distant neighbor in hopes they’d still have what was mistakenly delivered to them.

Thankfully, this kind soul was able to recover my morning soul food, and here I sit: pastorally sampling the stuff to see if it’s cud worth chewing or a dud worth ptooey-ing.

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Review: Kellogg’s Caticorn Cereal

Kellogg's Caticorn Cereal Review – Box

Production Assistant Jupiter says, “You’ll pay for this foolishness in belly rubs.”

Is it not foolish for one of humankind’s creations to claim perfection? Are our works not destined to be beautifully flawed, lest we, in our Icarian hubris, overstep our mortal boundaries in selfish pursuit of godliness?

Something tells me Kellogg’s cutesy-tootsy Caticorn knows nothing about the myths of yore. If it did, we’d likely be gorging ourselves next to Medusa Bran* instead of some declawed creature dreamt up to steal Lisa Frank’s market share. It’s clear from the box alone that not only is Caticorn Cereal kind of unoriginal: its claim of “Berry Purrr-fection” sets a bar so high, it’s Herculean—especially for just another mixed fruit cereal.

As of right now, Caticorn Cereal at least has exclusivity going for it. It’s only available at Sam’s Club for the time being, before rolling out to other stores. But determining whether it’s worth buying a massive, 2.3lb Pandora’s box of it (that contains two cinderblock-sized boxes of its own) is up to my humble taste buds and limited pantry real estate.

*Inspired by my recent cereal mix idea, Medusa Crunch would combine Oreo O’s with gummy worms and freeze-dried pudding pieces for a truly stunning flavor combo. Just call me Purrr-seus.

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Review: Trader Joe’s Neapolitan Puffs Cereal

Trader Joe's Neapolitan Puffs Cereal Review Box

Let’s take a moment to admire the abject honesty of the current cereal industry. We’ve had our ups and downs, with the occasional public health outcry shaping the way our beloved commodity is branded. Sugar Frosted Flakes became Frosted Flakes. Sugar Smacks became Honey Smacks, which was refined for a period to just Smacks before reverting back to the mean. And now, in this present age of risk-taking in the breakfast aisle, companies are owning the fact that cereal is pretty much dessert. To the sugar-coated mound of donut and cookie (for breakfast?!) cereals, we’ve also seen the advent of ice cream offerings.

I’d be remiss to not point out that Cocoa Puffs did not invent the concept. As with so many deliciously carbed rituals, the Italians did it first. So while Sicilians are enjoying their literal gelato sandwiches early in the day, apparently the norm in Naples is that unique blend of strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate for which the region is named. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Sonny’s history lesson is a little vague on that one.

Trader Joe’s inexplicably decided to counter the Neapolitan Cocoa Puffs with… Neapolitan Puffs Cereal. But it’s what’s under the hood that counts, and Joe has made some special modifications. TJ looked at a fairly good cereal that does not contain beans and said, “No. This will not do.” Instead of corn, oat, or even wheat, Neapolitan Puffs is made with a similar blend of beans found in the divisive LoveGrown cereals.

Personally, I quite like the subtle beany aftertaste and uniquely forgiving crunch of Comet Crispies. At the same time, I respect that it’s not everyone’s jam (if peanuts are a legume, does that make peanut butter just bean jam?), so you can expect a fair assessment here, as well. Continue reading