What? If no one else is going to start writing New Year’s carols, I might as well start drafting one to commemorate the first month of the year’s traditionally tumultuous tidal wave of new cereals. Don’t get me wrong, I’m geeked to see 2020’s freshest resolution-busters, but I will say that it’s a difficult time to both keep up and keep my fingers from burning down to the nubs from both friction and fructose.
Thought Trix Yogurt, the delightfully swirled nectar that is to Trix cereal as ultra-premium gasoline is to crude oil, was pretty much gone off shelves everywhere but spider-webbed school cafeteria giga-fridges? That would be a pretty silly thing to think, wouldn’t it. Very preposterous, even.
While you may have to get your LLL (lunch lady license) to order true Trix Yogurt in Olympic pool-sized volume, we solo spooners can at least skip the silverware and slug back a yogurty Trix smoothie. Yoplait is releasing this “Citrus Flavored Cultured Dairy Beverage” alongside a complementary Cinnamon Toast Crunch variety. So no matter where you drink this cereal ichor, you can tell your spouse, boss or defense attorney that “I couldn’t have possibly stolen cereal milk from a baby: I only drink cultured milk products!”
Works every time.
https://www.instagram.com/p/B6AGhYBhBdP/
So far, these smoothies have had sightings at H-E-B and Kroger, so check your local chain for a chance at filling a Cinnamon Toast Chalice with viscous beige splendor.
Would it be wrong to automatically give this cereal a 1 or 2 out of 10 without trying it? I mean, it’s the edible definition of <3.
And yet, this review need not include much critical thought at all, as it’s more of a news post with photographic evidence. To illustrate Honey Nut Cheerios’ heart-healthy commitment, General Mills is releasing these Happy Heart Shape boxes starting next month. You’d think this would be a Valentine’s Day promo to give to your sweetheart, but Buzz the Bee would prefer if you used chunks of ivory to grind it to an acidic pulp and pump the spoils into your beatin’ heart. Romantic, right?
Of course, these Honeypie Cheerios don’t taste any different than the regular rings. In fact, only like 30-50% of the pieces are even heart shaped, making them look more like, um, naturally endowed thiccheerios. Worth a kiss on the cheek, right?
If you already love Honey Nut Cheerios, this charming novelty is probably worth it for the cuteness factor. Otherwise, there’s nothing HNC can do that Honey ‘N Oats Cheerios Oat Crunch can’t do better. Buzz the Bee may have my heart, but those granola shards have my soul.
Okay, if we assume the “many universes” theory is true, where do you think ours falls on the continuum of greatness? Like I get that having a hospitable planet and intelligent life in itself would probably land us in the top quartile, and since there are any trillions of universes where humans just said nahhh to agriculture, we’re pretty darn lucky to even have cereal instead of Mutton Munchies by the hunted and gathered bowlful.
But is it wrong to long for a vacation to one of those slightly rosier neighboring timelines? You know, one where I don’t have the “cilantro tastes like soap” gene? Or the one where I actually am the omnipotent cereal deity old people in the comments section tend to think I am (NO I STILL CAN’T FIX ALPHA-BITS)?
Heck, I’d even settle for a very small ask: A world where Honey ‘N Oats Cheerios Oat Crunch is Honey Nut Cheerios. Like, the latter never existed. That’s how good this Oat Crunch is. At that point I wouldn’t need cilantro or soap!
Photo via i_need_a_snack_ (thank you for sharing!)
Ah. Oh man. Here it comes again. The inscrutable drooling.
Am I the only one whose middle school memories are just one big gob of shuddersome awkwardness that smells like ambient Jolly Ranchers that were bought in bulk at the student store and provisioned round the clock like electric chewing tobacco? Somehow I doubt I’m alone.
But anyway, it’s because of that unfortunate thing that I can’t even look at these pictures of General Mills’ new Jolly Rancher Cereal without my esophagus puckering and my mouth sweating from phantom exertion. For the sake of my delicate keyboard mechanics, I’ll keep this brief: Instagram foodie @i_need_a_snack_ managed to nab the last box of this faux fruit still life—which is stunning considering how a whole Walmart sold out of the stuff before news hit the web.
Regardless, this feels like General Mills’ way of clapping back against the sensory-subverting event that was Sour Patch Kids Cereal. On one hand, I hope this is more than just some imitation Zounds! Entirely Fruit!, but if this is authentic enough to Jolly Rancher candy to put the butter- in my -milk, these sour sweets will be gone.
Unfortunately, early comments are claiming it’s just remolded Trix flavoring. If this is true, I will only begrudgingly eat the entire box, while reminiscing on the good old days when Jolly Rancher Cereal pieces were shaped like Runtz instead of chubby tubes. If you’ve tried it, let me know what you think in the comments. I’ll be off to Walmart to corral these Ranchers just after my appointment with a mall food court 25¢ candy machine.
C’mon, Doughboy, stop kneading around the bush and drop your own cereal already.
We get it, you got the Trix Rabbit to sign on for a strudel à deux, and you lent your brand to an admittedly cinna-mondo Fillows variety. Now you’ve stolen Lucky’s Charms—probably tucked ’em in your amorphous abdomen and giggled all the way to the bank, huh?—to make marbit-ized cookie dough. But when will you step up and front the Biscuit Bites Cereal I’ve been dreaming of for the past 100 words? Show Snap and Crackle who the real Poppin’ Fresh is!
But fine, if you want to stick with sticky sugar pucks, be my guest.
No, really. Be my guest for dinner tonight. I’ll do potato salad if you bring dessert.
Whether these Lucky Charms Cookies (12 big honkin’ ones, to be specific) will actually taste like its cereal forefather seems up for debate. Not only does the packaging simply call them “Sugar Cookie[s] with Marshmallows Bits,” but I’m still deeply shattered by the sheer audacity of Magically Delicious Lucky Charms Marshmallows, which were accurate to only one of those five words.
So will Lucky Charms Cookie Dough have golden oat undertones and the dense crackling sweetness of a cereal marshmallow? As these are hitting Walmart soon, I plan to find out without ever turning my oven on. You can pathetically ask me to “Please” not eat this stuff uncooked, Mr. D. Boy, but my momma always said that humans can have a little raw cookie dough as a treat.
More wishes. Boom, that was easy. And for the other two, bring back Waffle Crisp and the phrase “how’s tricks?” but don’t let the Trix Rabbit trademark it. Thanks.
Oh, wait, you weren’t asking, were you?
I wish you would’ve told me. But while my dreams of a colloquial world seen through amber-tinted glasses may have to wait, I’ll instead get the three wishes I’d never ask for out loud, but which will still appear under my Christmas tree between the socks and the Seinfeld box set (you can never have too many): a healthy cereal, that’s made by a small family, without the primary benefit being fiber content so high it’d give my small intestine a 1000mb/s connection.
Three Wishes is a newcomer in a specialty cereal niche that seeks to challenge the highs and lows of the low-sugar/low-everthing category. Created by the Wishingrad family, Three Wishes Cereal offers enough healthy specifics that it’s easier to quote them than type ’em out myself: “Grain free, plant based, vegan cereals made from chickpeas and pea protein,” with “More protein, less sugar, zero grains,” plus “No peanuts, no corn, no wheat, no rice, no dairy, no oats, and no soy. Our cereals are Kosher, Non-GMO and gluten-free certified.”
But hey, I’m just the taste test jockey, so I’ll be giving the three-flavor variety pack they kindly sent me a layman’s perspective. Please note that I am not on any restricted diets, so while I will be honest when clarifying my thoughts compared to sugary mainstream cereals, those looking for a nutritionist’s opinion can take mine with a grain of anything but actual grain. Let’s go! Continue reading →
Alright, who’s in charge of Kellogg’s Adjectival Development Department? I just want to talk.
“Blueberrific” Pop-Tarts Crisps presented a pretty mild misdemeanor of negligent neologizing. But “Mer-Mazing”? That’s a high crime right up there with first-degree mer-der. I mean, I get it: Kellogg’s still had enough of the old Blue Raspberry Pop-Tart filling lying around—I have to imagine this stuff must radioactively decay at the rate of Chernobyl—and wanted to tie into the far-from-floundering mermaid trend. But would it’ve killed them to switch cryptids and debut wordplay so bad it’s good?
Bluepacabra Raspberry just rolls off the severed goat tongue!
In any case, The Tasty Turtle on Instagram is the first to spot these sea-dame snacks at Walmart. Big ups to them for sharing, but I will say this box art leaves me with more questions than answers. Like, why is this blue mermaid incapable of articulately holding a Pop-Tart? How can a Pop-Tart even survive underwater?
And is there another fishy lower body behind that giant Tart, or are we to believe this is a Mer-pastry, who’s sunk eternally to the bottom of the ocean for lack of proper hydrodynamics? The secrets of the deep will forever elude me.
