Look, I have a whipped cream firehose right here, and the safety’s off.
So I’m gonna ask you one more time: where’s Captain Cupcake?

It’s really the only explanation: the squiggle-stached mascot behind Hostess Cupcakes, known for his hulking naval circumference and nautical nonsense, hasn’t been seen in action for years. Many theorized that he, along with the other obscure sideshow snack cakes, were disappeared out of existence by the powerful Fruit Pie the Magician, whose grand illusion managed to rewrite our dark timeline and save Hostess from bankruptcy.

But with the release of these new conveniently frosted Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tarts, the truth is clear. Captain Cupcake, bitter about his fudgy offspring not getting their own Hostess Cereal (this was C. Cupcake’s one chance to return fire against Cap’n Crunch!), defected and sold trade secrets to Kellogg’s. Now we can only assume that he’s hiding out in the molded wreckage of an abandoned Hostess Bakery Thrift Outlet.

If he happens to reappear under a new diet alias—with a slimmer shape due to months spent lifting stale Wonderbread pallets—I hope the feds book this “Admiral Aspartame” instantly. 

Kellogg’s Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tarts Review

Despite this possible treacle treason, as a chocoholic and pretty much son-of-a-snack-cake, I had to give Kellogg’s latest Pop-Tart flavor a try. And I’m glad I did, because Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tarts taste exactly like Hostess Cupcakes.

There’s something about a Hostess Cupcake that no Ding Dong nor Ho Ho could ever quite replicate. It’s not in the brown-standard chocolate cake, nor in the ivory æther of the cream filling. No, it’s the uniquely oily and cocoa-buttered frosting—the waxy cap of every cupped cake that can be easily peeled off and wrapped around an Oreo like a decadent tortilla.

And this clearly processed, yet undeniably delicious frosting is convincingly re-created in every Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tart’s own frosting. The cocoa-powdered crust is no different than that found on a Chocolate Fudge Pop-Tart, and the marshmallowy filling will be familiar to anyone who’s had a Hot Fudge Sundae Pop-Tart. But the frosting, with its nostalgically guilt-tinged eau de gas station dessert aisle, is what sets Chocolate Cupcake frosting a solid few pantry shelves above even Chocolate Vanilla Crème Pop-Tarts.

That is, until you toast them. Just like how I’ve never microwaved a Hostess Cupcake, I wouldn’t recommend giving Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tarts the incendiary treatment if you want to preserve those sweet-preservative undertones that make these pastries Hostess doppelgängers. After caramelized toastiness taints the frosting (again, disregard if that sounds like your jam), Choco-Cake Pop-Tarts become virtually indistinguishable from their clown-college-educated cousin Hot Fudge Sundae.

Regardless, the one arguable upgrade a toaster introduces is a nice toasted marshmallow element within the filling. If you need a third pastry to wedge between two S’Mores Pop-Tarts, let it be this one.

Of course, as a proud capo of the Frozen Pop-Tart Gang, I had to let Chocolate Cupcakes sleep with the fish sticks to see what would happen. Surprisingly, despite a strong Fudgsicle-esque opening act, my frozen test subjects still couldn’t stack up to the already-stacked-in-my-stomach room temp. Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tarts—making this perhaps the first time I prefer Tepid-Tarts to torpedo-solid ones. Whereas toasting tampers with the crust foremost, frozen mostly evolves the filling, turning it into sliced-thin ice cream butter. Neither helps the frosting pop any brighter, and so Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tarts are best left in a climate where all three components govern my palate coequally.

In the end, CC Pop-Tarts would be tied for third with Chocolate Fudge in my list of favorite currently available chocolate Pop-Tarts (after Chocolate Chip and Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough). I don’t know if its concept has enough distinctive legs to stand-out in a brand full of crispy centipedes, but its hot take on Hostess is spot-on and likely worth the price of a box.

The Bottom Line: 8.5 Pie & Seltzer Clown-Tarts out of 10

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Kellogg’s Confetti Cupcake Pop-Tarts Review

But Chocolate isn’t the only cupped ‘n’ caked Pop-Tart hitting shelves. Confetti Cupcake is also returning after two years in discontinued purgatory (a place where the likes of Milk Chocolate Graham and Lava Berry Explosion Pop-Tarts sit in an eternal, foil-wrapped waiting room that only plays Toaster Strudel ads at max volume).

While I have fond memories of Confetti Cupcake’s remix of Pillsbury’s tired Funfetti formula, eating one after a Chocolate Cupcake Pop-Tart feels a lot more disappointing. It also doesn’t help that Vanilla Milkshake Pop-Tarts—though not as exciting as Strawberry Milkshake in their own right—replaced Confetti Cupcake in a more attractively sprinkled fashion.

Regardless of their redundant place in any Pop-Tartian genealogy, Confetti Cupcake Pop-Tarts really just taste like grocery store cupcakes—the kind so uniformly slathered in granulated icing that few notes of vanilla, egg, or buttercream are able to rise above its sugary intrigue suppressors.

The most interesting parts of a Confetti Cupcake are a) the faint ribbons of yellow cake threaded between pops of Peeps-esque sugar, and b) the crunchy twangs of the rainbowed sprinkles on top. Yet by sheer magnitude of snackish analogy, Chocolate Cupcake has Confetti beaten by a sluggishly walked gym class mile. Twinkies, these are not.

Unlike Chocolate, however, toasting does a lot to singe away Confetti Cupcake’s oppressive one-note overtones in favor of something that has more freshly baked flavor depth than its fresh-from-the-foil form. If you’re so vehemently opposed to the idea of chocolate on your cupcake that you’d harpoon Fudgy the Whale without a second thought, Confetti Cupcake Pop-Tarts might be a good alternative…

…especially if you freeze them. If Chocolate Cupcake’s Achille’s Heel had a strong emphasis on the “chill,” then Confetti Cupcake is only emboldened by it. The freezer’s is not a totally cleansing holy light for this flavor’s reputation, but the custardy notes added by the doughification of Confetti Cupcake’s filling actually gives these a valid reason for existing.

Chocolate Cupcake is the clear winner of this popped pair, but if want a simply sweet, vanilla-glazed Pop-Tart—and if you were also dissatisfied with Vanilla Milkshake Pop-Tarts’ complete deference to any flavorful dairy commitment—Confetti Cupcake is about to be a party in your mouth. I, uh, won’t be able to make it though. I’m…giving my rotund, seafaring packaged baked good a bath.

The Bottom Line: 6 fermented Twinkie-Tarts out of 10