There are many harsh truths in this world: nothing is fair, some people genetically can’t enjoy cilantro, and they’re just going to keep putting tags on shirts even though a flappy piece of rough fabric slapping your tender neck seems like an antithetical idea when considering the purpose of clothing.
Oh, and one more: there can only be one Froot Loops. The rest must be considered “Worse Loops.”
I’ve reviewed Tropical Froot Loops once already, so I will keep this quick. As my Empty Bowl cohost Justin accurately states, these deserve the title of “Froot Loops,” while the O.G. stuff can crawl back under whatever lab-synthesized schnozzberry bush they came from. But did the full cornucopia of goodness found in the once Mexico-exclusive Tropical Froot Loops survive their flight north for the summer?
Well I seem to think so. Justin disagreed in our latest episode, but if my discerning taste buds weren’t able to detect a difference in Kellogg’s localized Loops, I doubt most people will have a problem. Mostly because, if you never tried (i.e. spent $20–$30 to import) Mexican Tropical Froot Loops when they came out, you’ll be too enchanted by this island time experience to get granularly critical.
See, while each spoonful of Fraud Loops tastes the same throughout, lacking nuance and pomological authenticity, in each bite of Tropical Froot Loops you’ll encounter a pleasant menagerie of familiar fruit flavor. As promised by the front of the box, there are four fruits ripe for the milking. But in my experience, they’re not all infused equally. Here’s my top-down ranking of each fruit’s in-Loop presence:
1) Pineapple: Since there really haven’t been any pineapple-forward cereals–you had one job, Robert—the bright, golden sticky-sweetness of pineapple in Tropical Froot Loops is a pleasant surprise each time I taste it. Definitely the most dominant, yet never overwhelming, pineapple serves as a charmingly wacky, Hawaiian shirt-wearing tour guide for the rest of the Tropical Froot Loops experience.
2) Orange: Silly Trix, citrus flavored cereal is for Toucans! Just as Trix is unique for its puckering fringes of lemon, so too is Tropical Froot Loops delightfully accented by sweet ‘n’ tangy orange juice notes around the edges. And just like orange juice, once you’ve chewed your Tropical Froot Loops long enough, it’s like an all-pulp beverage. Win-win!
3) Mango: Like pineapple, mango is dramatically underrepresented in the cereal aisle. The one notable exception is Trader Joe’s MangO’s, which only proved that straight-up mangosity isn’t interesting enough to singlehandedly carry a cereal. Much more appropriately, mango lurks in the shadows of every Tropical Froot Loops spoonful. Blending rather seamlessly with the orange above it, mango adds a few more ribbons of mouthwatering pucker to an already eccentric experience.
4) Banana: Oh man, these things wish they could be called second bananas, but in reality, Tropical Froot Loops has next to no ‘nanner goodness. Sure, it could be said that banana contributes subtly to the overall sweetness of the cereal, balancing out the comparative bite of orange and mango, but when compared to any other banana cereal, I can’t help but long for a little more—especially since banana is usually found in pie, nut, or bread-themed cereals and rarely with other fruit. Which is a shame, because banana has great collab potential.
Eaten dry or especially when smoothie-fied in milk, all these fruits blend together into a crunchy cocktail of uncommon cereal delicacies, not unlike a bag of Haribo Gold Bears. While those who prefer the no holds-barred faux fruitiness found in normal Loops or Pebbles might find Tropical Froot Loops too nuanced, and while the easily overwhelmed might find Tropical Froot Loops too fruity after multiple bowls, there’s really no reason for cereal fans to try this one out.
Especially since Justin & I take unofficial credit for Tropical Froot Loops’ domestication and therefore want it to succeed to the point where we have enough clout to revive Waffle Crisp—and create a Gingerbread Toast Crunch too, while we’re at it.
The Bowl: Tropical Froot Loops
The Breakdown: A slight banana slip-up is the only thing keeping Tropical Froot Loops from godliness. All fans of fruit, Loops, cereal, or Margaritaville should give this a shot.
The Bottom Line: 9 Worse Loops banished to the deepest abyss of Tartarus out of 10
I tried these today. I found them very bland even compared to regular fruit loops, and I think thats why they were on sale for 60% off. Never again.
I LOVE Froot Loops – they’re nun#1 cereal hands down – and also love tropical flavors so I was THRILLED to see these at Grocery Outlet. I immediately thought “maybe I should buy them all..” but thank god I didn’t. They were bland, ZERO tropical flavor or any fruit flavor at all. Something about them was repulsive to me though! I’m never ever one to reject a cereal – even a “meh” bowl is edible to me but these – I had half a bowl and imagined that I’d legitimately throw up if I ate any more. The bland, almost fruit flavor, combined with milk and maybe a slight tropical smell – it combined to mimic the attributes of a lingering puke situation, and that’s exactly what would have happened if I had continued eating them. I immediately decided NO.
The smell and taste of these just don’t do it for me. I rarely ever eat Froot Loops, but I’d argue here that regular Froot Loops are definitely better, but neither are an incredible cereal.
ALERT! ALERT! i found tropical froot loops in mass quantities at my local grocery outlet (portland, or) on 5/8/21. i allowed myself one novelty cereal purchase and i’m so glad i chose these over caramel apple jacks!
Oh, and one more thing I forgot in my first reply: the tropical smell of the dry cereal is truly prodigious. It’s a heavenly, citrusy aroma that is sadly immediately suppressed upon the addition of milk.
Having eaten them once both dry and with milk, my roommate Jordan swears he can tell the difference between colors while I sadly cannot. I will try a few more times, possibly challenging Jordan and myself to a blindfolded taste test down the line.
Green presumably is supposed to represent the leafy green color on the top of the pineapple, but that realization took me minutes to puzzle my way through logically. I’d much prefer the Haribo approach of an off-white pineapple.