I’m putting on my waffle cone chainmail and wielding a shield forged from molten maraschino cherries, because what I’m about to say will no-doubt spark a meltdown in the frozen brains of whole-blooded ice cream diehards everywhere:
I like light ice cream.
Yes, I know it has a lot less authentic milk fat, and I know there’s a certain broad threshold between light ice cream and ‘frozen desserts’ that further muddles the clarity of creamishness involved. But I’m also a grown baby with sensitive teeth and a mild lactose problem, so something soft and tolerably intolerable is a lot more appealing than a brick of pasteurized pain in my gut.
I like to think that Edy’s/Dreyer’s made this pair of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Lucky Charms ice creams light solely so I, their favorite cereal reviewer, could safely discuss them. I know, in reality, that it was a matter of cost, but hey: let me have this fantasy as I go scoop deep into churned versions of General Mills’ two most spun-off cereals.
Cinnamon Toast Crunch Light Ice Cream Review
This pair of pints is a study in subverted expectations. I expected the Cinnamon Toast Crunch ice cream to be the most straightforward and simplistic in its cinnamon-sugar delights. But what I got was a much more evocative affair. Whereas CTC the cereal retains only the faintest suggestion of genuine cinnamon beneath its twenty-thousand leagues of C12H22O11, its icily creamed equivalent has a palpable kick of woodsy auburn spice. This tongue-punch is so pervasive that if I ate this stuff blind, I would just guess it’s a churro ice cream, some autumnal mixed treat, or perhaps the friendly frigid ghost of cinnamon challenges past.
The little crispety crunchety bits scattered throughout likewise are tough to interpret as cereal shards and instead remind me of scattershot snickerdoodle shrapnel.
While it’s certainly the more attractive offering in Edy’s and Dreyer’s duo, Cinnamon Toast Crunch light ice cream skirts the promise of its namesake in favor of a flavor that may have more potent depth, but little of the overindulgent golden sweetness that makes slurping up cereal milk so darn primally satisfying. If you’re really into cinnamon the spice more than cinnamon the over-candied concept, this ice cream may restore balance to your sensory-overloaded sweet tooth, but long-time Toast Crunch-timers may be a bit disappointed at this abstracted interpretation of CTC’s instantly recognizable taste.
But hey, the more attention I’m paying to my tingling tongue, the less I can give to my sizzling stomach, right?
The Bottom Line: 6 stupid internet specters out of 10
Lucky Charms Light Ice Cream Review
If it seemed like I was being light on the intellectual discourse surrounding Cinnamon Toast Crunch ice cream, it’s because I really wanted to talk about this tie-dyed beige beauty. As before, I fully expected this to be a softly served whiffle ball of a flavor—I mean, Lucky Charms ice cream? What’s it gonna taste like? Viscous marshmallow fluff? But no, what I got was something way better and way more buttery.
For once in its overshadowed life, the oat component of Lucky Charms gets to steal the show from its vain yet shallowly sweet step-mallows. My reaction to the first spoonful was that of the weird child I once was, overjoyed to savor an oatmeal cookie over a chocolate chip. The base ice cream here has all the makings of butterscotch oatmeal cookie dough, with ribbons of goodness both golden and lightly vanilla beaned. The marshmallows, though they may look like malignant veins of bleeding iridescent ore, complement these doughy overtones nicely, with their simpler sweetness and gooier texture only further echoing the sensation of well-whipped batter.
It’s ugly but should be proud.
Since I’m not a seasoned ice cream critic, I can’t really say too much about such a light ice cream compares to the real thing. It’s certainly easier to carve and melts pretty fast, but the minute Lucky Charms ice cream gets too soft and pliable, I see that as a surefire cue to add more cereal in and make it a parfait. Much more so than the overwhelming spice pops of CTC ice cream, Lucky Charms offers a flexible springboard for all kinds of magical mix-ins, be they cookie dough pieces, graham cracker crumbs, or actual mammoth Lucky Charms marshmallows—drizzled with maple syrup, of course.
Such a novelty nosh might not offer much to ice cream crusaders who’ve already explored the rich depths of oatmeal ice creams, but for the rest of us who want something fun and colorful—no matter how crude—Lucky Charms ice cream is likely to be the kind of pint you blow through in a single nightlong bout of inspired creamology. I won’t even tell anyone if you chuck a couple raisins in there!
The Bottom Line: 8.5 delirious doughy dozens out of 10