Calling it now: 2019 is going to be the year of zany breakfast peripherals.

Just as the ’80s and early 2000s video game industries saw an influx of variably successful light guns, and philharmonic orchestra’s worth of plastic instruments, the 2k1x’s penultimate year is already promising a wealth of niche offshoots for familiar breakfast brands.

Whether any of these budding taste-buddies will make it into a Smash Bros. game is another story, but if the first creatively derived Pop-Tartform I tried is any indication, we might have to raise regular Pop-Tarts to the rafters like foil-wrapped fading stars.

So while I wait for Pop-Tarts Cereal to complete Kellogg’s new almost-er pastry trifecta, it’s time to crack open perhaps the most understated and underhyped of the three: Pop-Tarts Crisps.

Each pouch contains two nested Crisps, and despite what the box rendering may suggest, these are no mere frosted shortbread wafers—and for my U.K. readers, they’re unfortunately not Swoops-esque Pop-tato chips, either.

No, Pop-Tarts Crisps are basically just Diet Pop-Tarts, crust, icing, filling and all. At 120 calories a pouch, they still seem to have more snacking surface area as a single 200-calorie Pop-Tart. Basically the inversion of Pop-Tarts Bites, which took the girth of its extinct ancestor Pop-Tarts Go-Tarts and the length of Pop-Tarts Mini Crisps, 2019’s Pop-Tarts Crisps have Go-length and Mini-thickness.

The crust here is what’s been eroded the most: appropriately more crispy than the pillowy pastry shell of its superlative Pop-Tart form, Crisp crust makes its golden sugar-biscuit taste more of a supplement than the main event.

The filling, meanwhile, has its potency almost entirely preserved through the downsizing process. This means that these Slim-Tarts don’t hit like Slim-Fast. The skewed filling-to-crust ratio makes both flavors bitingly sweet, while the reliable icing presence only glazes the sweetness on thicker.

In Strawberry’s case, the once-pleasantly shortcakey taste is now a bursting jelly doughnut (done quadrilaterally). It’s the flavor more likely to overwhelm light snack seekers with its pulses of candied intensity, but true Pop-Heads will love the streamlined injection of the brand’s most iconic flavor.

Brown Sugar Cinnamon, on the other hand, is more universally palatable. The browned-buttery cinnamon filling turns the meagre, doughy shell into a molten, half-baked cinnamon bun. It’s warm, cozy, and a solid pick for a yuletide boxed lunch.

Because ultimately, these are destined for the cafeteria—elementary school, corporate, or otherwise. These suckers are amazing when frozen into Pop-Sicles (imagine Strawberry and Cinnamon WWE Ice Cream Bars after a close shave), but the pouches are convenient enough to enjoy everywhere.

As much as I love Pop-Tarts, it’s hard to eat a pack of them as anything but a dessert without feeling like my stomach failed a freshman-year Philosophy 101 midterm, so Pop-Tarts Crisps bring all the flavor (sometimes even more) with a less guilt. Just don’t expect them to last more than 2-4 bites, depending on how public your lunch is.

Or even less, if you slap some ice cream between ’em and call it a sandwich.

The Bowl: Pop-Tarts Crisps

The Breakdown: All the fun of the most famous Pop-Tarts flavor, just with less dough and more “yooooo!” Easily the best Pop-Tart hybrid since I did this.

The Bottom Line (Strawberry): 9 Occam’s Pop-Tart Razors out of 10

The Bottom Line (Brown Sugar Cinnamon): 9.5 Swoop-wiches out of 10