The abdication of an edible monarchy is an interesting thing, and a recurring concept amongst snack sovereigns. Perhaps it’s the unpopularity of ivory-towered mascots when compared to working class leprechauns and rabbits, but in past decades we’ve seen King Don usurped by a facelessly caked corporate hegemony, and the Burger King reduced to a mere figurehead—as the chain’s reigning fast feudalists find the best way to create viral stunts without improving food quality.

Yet, the cereal aisle’s top 1% of the 2% has been ruling largely in private since 1968, like an old god who clings to his last few believers. Yes, King Vitaman cereal still exists—much to my own surprise—though its production has been severely stifled in recent years. Much like another cult-favorite Quaker cereal, Quisp, your best bets for finding a box of King Vitaman in 2019 are outlet stores, the Internet, and maybe a haunted garage sale.

The cereal has a history richer than its vitamin & mineral content, dating back to its forced vowel tweak to Vitaman, as the FDA forbids non-vitamins to call themselves vitamins. Go figure. While I’ve long been uncertain how to pronounce this tasty tyrant’s name (my brain wants to think “veeta-man,” not unlike how a clueless parent would mispronounce “Digimon”), I have nothing but respect for his lineage of descendants.

King Vitaman I (whom the above commercial names to affirm my phonetic idiocy), joined by the villainous Not-So-Bright Knight, defended his breakfast riches with a steely scepter. He loses respect points for hoarding wealth, but remains a people’s champ for taking decisive action instead of relying on henchmen and fallguys.

King Vitaman II, the most beloved and recognizable, earned wide acclaim for giving the cartoon king’s spirit corporeal form. Portrayed by George Mann from 1971 to his death in 1977, King Vitaman II will be forever martyred as one of few live action cereal mascots, as well as someone who could easily bare-knuckle box the Burger King and punt him off a parapet. Rest in peace, your highness.

Finally, King Vitaman III is the wise arch-wizard seen on the box Jared M. so kindly sent me. Introduced in 2000, this (quite literally) reanimated King tends to the cereal’s legacy with little pomp and plenty of sagacious circumstance. Presiding over his kingdom of crunchy crowns, King Vitaman III could very well be named Jarvis, and I’m excited to pay my respects to his family line by finally tasting the golden regalia I’ve so long sought.

So how do they taste? Let’s just say that never before has the phrase “Diet Cap’n Crunch” been more accurate. Just as Quisp and Quake taste like differently shaped Crunchian cousins, King Vitaman adapts the same coconut-oiled, toasted corn–oat blend into a shape that’s somehow more flesh-flaying than the Cap’n’s own chests. Seriously: no matter how eager you are to hail to the king, I recommend taking baby steps and bites when pouring a bowl of KV. Because while the King himself may be insured for uvular lacerations, peasants like you and I aren’t.

Back to the flavor, King Vitaman is famous for having less sugar per serving than most conventional cereals, and at only 6 grams of the stuff per whopping 1.5 cup serving, it certainly tastes like it, too. Much more so than in Cap’n Crunch, the base flavor is allowed equal status with the flavor gently glazed on it. This makes me thankful that King Vitaman is already so rich that he didn’t need to skimp on ingredient quality, because an all-corn King Vitaman wouldn’t even make suitable hamster bedding.

As a result of this savory-sweet balance, King Vitaman is likely to have a niche appeal to those who cut their teeth and mouths on classic cereal sugar bombs. This may sound strange, but I couldn’t help compare the King’s flavor to buttered toast (perhaps with a sprinkling of brown sugar), as the sugar and grain effectively cancel each other out to let the coconut oil intricacies shine through. Since I grew up eating only toast for about 5 straight years of grade school breakfasts (to the point where I had to wash it down with chocolate milk to get past the tired flavor), the King Vitaman experience is ultimately a strange blend of masochism and nostalgia.

Milk is good for rounding off any lingering notes of tepid staleness—the King’s spoils spoil far faster than the average cereal—but the porous crowns quickly go soggy, providing only a brief golden window for wolfing them down, which forces medieval munchers to choose between quality of flavor and quantity of in-tact taste buds. Taking all this together, I’d have to suggest either pouring King Vitaman into yogurt—or perhaps royal jelly—and mixing it with Oops! All Berries to craft a more modest meal fit for a king-sized mattress and a TV tuned to that old Donkey Kong Country show.

Because the best weapon for fighting an uncannily CGI’d King K. Rool is a friendly 2D King Vitaman.

In the end, the King’s is not a cereal I could eat every day, but its toned-down taste is worth seating at the top of your snack castle (that’s what I call pantries—it’s an Albany expression), partly out of reverence, and partly for King Vitaman’s ability to bring savoriness to breakfast without missing a beat.

Which makes me think he’d be really good at Donkey Konga, too.

The Bowl: King Vitaman Cereal (2019)

The Breakdown: All the Cap’n Crunch texture and taste, with less of the sugar. Toast fans will rejoice at the cereal’s more earthen notes, while sweet teeth may be left clenching in anticipation. Either way: long live the King.

The Bottom Line: 7.5 Ding Dong democracies out of 10