I’m glad I’m finally mature and intelligent enough to eat Kellogg’s new “Soda-Licious” A&W Root Beer Pop-Tarts.
Back when I was a kid, I never drank root beer without parental supervision. See, opening the fridge and seeing the word “beer” would immediately fill me with fear that I’d get clobbered for having accidentally sipped some forbidden alcoholic elixir.
Of course, I can laugh at my childhood illiteracy now, just like how I laugh at my dumb childhood self for eating the brown paper layers on Reese’s Cups. I didn’t know they were there, I swear!
Now it’s time to redeem myself by eating far too many artificially root beer-flavored, frosted and sprinkled sugar rectangles. Because everyone knows the best kind of redemption ends in a shameful food coma.
The aesthetic of these A&W Root Beer Tarts is spot-on, with a rustic saloon brown crust and a smooth frothy frosting. The sprinkles, however, look more like bacon bits than anything I would soberly decide to put near a mug of root beer.
I gulped down my first bite of room temperature pastry like Popeye with a spinach can. My first impressions were mixed. My immediate instinct was to lean out the window and shout, “Hey world, you’ll never believe this! They’ve got root beer floats in pastry form now! What a time to be alive!”
Because my Pop-Tart really did taste like a chewy root beer float. I wasn’t thrilled by the bland (imagine stirring that dusty can of flat A&W from your grandma’s basement into a bowl of flour), but the intense sarsaparilla flavor of the insides and the hyper sweet, nearly cloying vanilla punch of the frosting makes the crust’s balancing tameness necessary.
Once I worked past the novelty, though, it became less impressive. Because even though I had an entire Pop-Tart that tasted like a root beer float, I still had to eat an entire Pop-Tart that tasted like a root beer float. It’s like the old pulled pork recipe my mom would make with a root beer marinade. Sure, it’s fun, but I’d much rather have it slathered in Sweet Baby Ray’s.
And in this case, I’d much rather have my Pop-Tart taste like S’Mores or Cookies & Creme. Though I wouldn’t put it past Pop-Tarts to release Frosted BBQ Sauce Pop-Tarts for summer, either.
Into the toaster my root beer went, and out of the toaster wafted the bizarre smell of roasted campfire root beer marshmallows (get on this idea, Jet-Puffed!). With a filling that resembles actual root beer, toasting these Pop-Tarts is the recommended option for anyone who can’t stomach the idea of “chewy soda texture.”
But while the magmatic insides become much more fluid, the intricate taste notes of the woodsy root beer filling and ice cream-esque frosting are melted away.
Speaking of ice cream, what better place for a root beer float Pop-Tart than in the freezer? I was giddy with anticipation, dancing around my frigid appliance as it did its job.
The verdict? Mmmm. These frozen A&W Pop-Tarts are worthy of a Beatles parody album called Please Freeze Me. Just like with Kellogg’s Pink Lemonade Pop-Tarts, freezing brings out an even more robust flavor. Meanwhile, the chewy and dense texture turns each chilled pastry into a root beer-flavored ice cream sandwich wafer.
Seriously, these things practically have the words “wedge a scoop of ice cream between me” baked into the bottom of their crust.
So while Frosted A&W Root Beer Pop-Tarts are similar to Maple Bacon Pop-Tarts in that they do their job a little too well, the weird flavor here is partially redeemed by the freezer’s sub-zero glory and the pleasant taste of the frothy frosting.
If these pastries are missing one thing, though, it’s a bite. There’s no kick of licorice and anise to kick your taste buds in their own…well, you know. Perhaps if Kellogg’s had partnered with Barq’s instead of the comparably smooth A&W, we’d get the “ahh” inducing tingle my tongue desires.
But hey, I’ll forgive Kellogg’s if they can get Sweet Baby Ray on the phone. I’ve got a summer cookout and a hankering for burgers on Pop-Tart buns.
The “Bowl:” Kellogg’s Frosted A&W Root Beer Pop-Tarts
The Breakdown: Delightfully floaty and creamy when frozen, these authentically root beer-flavored pastries are otherwise destined to be charming novelties that you’ll probably only eat half a box of.
The Bottom Line: 7 godforsaken Hamburger Pop-Tarts out of 10
(Quick Nutrition Facts: 200 calories, <1 gram of fiber, 15 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein per 1 pastry serving)
***Our friends at Junk Banter and The Impulsive Buy reviewed these rootin’ tootin Tarts, too. Share the junk food love and check out their thoughts!***