Forty is a large number. There’s a reason it’s a common Biblical increment of days, as well as the highest number ever counted to on Sesame Street: achieving forty of something is a Big feat—whether it’s Bird or Man in the Sky.
Which is why it’s both a blessing and curse that Lucky Charms’ newest sort-of-cereal-bar is only currently available in boxes (would crates be a better word? caches? sarcophagi?) of forty. As a hardline cereal journalist, of course I had a cinderblock’s worth of these redressed Fiber One brownies shipped to my house, and now it sits as a fixed centerpiece on my coffee table (for at least the next forty days and forty nights), patiently awaiting hungry houseguests—or at least mischievous house cats who love tipping over boxes.
These Marshmallow Blondies are simple beige squares, with a splattered smattering of half-baked marshmallows and an abstract cascade of icing. Certainly much different than the ‘pressed cereal log’ approach of most cereal bars, but is it worth the XL investment? As a natural blondie, I feel qualified to tell you.
Sizing up these Marshmallow Blondies, they’re…not very big. This is a 2-3 bites maximum treat—even fewer if you, like me, don’t consider a snack jaw-dropping if it doesn’t actually unhinge yours. This is likely a strategic move by General Mills, as they’re undoubtedly following the ‘fun-sized’ philosophy that leaves frustrated stomachs aching for another Blondie to fill the gnawing void.
Good thing Lucky Charms Soft-Baked Treats are definitely worth smashing two in one sitting/breath.
Their doughy (and dare I say moist) texture is appealing, as the Treats swap the classic crunch of Lucky Charms for a pliable and tastefully reliable chew. It’s a great way to recontextualize the Lucky Charms experience—even if the flavor isn’t a 1:1 re-creation.
No, while you might expect the base Blondie to have the hearty flavor of oats, it’s instead rather cakey. Specifically, it feels and tastes like a pressurized Twinkie, its slightly bland sponginess made denser, and its buttery sheen accented with notes of Nilla Wafer.
But this last bit of understated acumen can be taken further. The marbits—whose familiar geometric Charms have been soft-baked into amorphous mutations not unlike the toxic waste guy from RoboCop—don’t add any distinct marshmallow fluff undertones, but they do up the whipped creaminess factor. This is much needed, as it balances out the quiet grittiness of the Blondie batter.
And it’s much needed analogically, too, as combined with the Nilla notes, the holistic Lucky Charms Soft-Baked Treat experience starts echoing Nilla Cakesters, which are perhaps one of the foodstuffs that best represents me in mind, body, and spirit (the other being Frosted Animal Cookies, a snack that, if cerealized, would probably have fragments of my soul as the prize inside).
The drawback to Lucky Charms Marshmallow Blondies is that its sugar-butter-cake flavor profile starts to wear on you after a handful of ’em. I’m sure it didn’t help that I consumed an obscene number of them in a period of time that can only be described as harrowing, but after my third or fourth Blondie, I got bored. All the taste notes are so similar, the ultimate result grows homogenous—it needs a quick milk dunk, or some cereal bundled inside a folded Blondie (taco style), to keep it interesting.
I applaud General Mills for trying something new, but I hope this Soft-Baked Treats line evolves to feature the cereal company’s more diversely delicious IPs: Reese’s Puffs, French Toast Crunch, and Yummy Mummy (wink wink) all deserve a soft reboot.
In the end, unless you’re feeding a youth soccer team or senior bingo hall, Lucky Charms Soft-Baked Marshmallow Blondies are probably too voluminously packaged to be worth it for individual household purchases. If they ever downsize to boxes of a dozen or less, though, go ahead and take your tongue on a field trip to Lucky’s Twinkie Pressure Cooker.
It’s right next to Kellogg’s Steamrolled Hostess Cupcake Plant.
The Bowl: Lucky Charms Soft-Baked Treats Marshmallow Blondies
The Breakdown: Like spongecake pie on a crust of crushed-up Nilla Wafers, these boys stay gold throughout their flavor profile. It’s consistently tasty, but when eaten consistently, Lucky’s little pucks start to lose their luster.
The Bottom Line: 7 horse-shaped horcruxes out of 10