Whether it’s a Rice Krispies Treat, a trendy cereal restaurant, or an exam for becoming a certified breakfast lawyer, the term “Cereal Bar” can refer to many things. While nutritionists and choosy moms may disagree with me, I believe that Nestlé’s iconic Lion Bar fits the bill, too. Go ahead and debate me on it, M.D.s and mommies: portable breakfast argumentation was the topic of my Cereal Law School dissertation.

Okay fine, I may not have the degree to back that up, but I do have this European Lion Bar’s ingredient list, which says my lumpy brown cylinder contains “8% cereals.” Plus the lion mascot on the front boasts how the bar is “EXTRA CRISPY.” All you have to do is imagine a floppy striped hat on top of his mane, and this bellowing fellow could join Snap, Crackle, and Pop’s Krispies crew.

Because, as it turns out, the tempting bumps studded below every Lion Bar’s rugged, chocolaty landscape aren’t nuts, chocolate chips, Oreo bits, or entire miniaturized cheesecakes—I know, I was hoping for the last one, too. They’re little bits of wispy crisped rice. And even on my first bite, they popped with a roaring intensity. 

Granted, the rice bits aren’t extremely flavorful. They have the light, toasty goldenness of malted brown rice, but certainly none of the baked-in cocoa or caramel flavor of Nestlé’s Lion Cereal—a 21st century favorite that was introduced in the early 2000s as a spoon-worthy version of this bar, which originated in 1970s England.

That’s because all of this candy cereal bar’s chocolate and caramel goodness come from, well, the chocolate and the caramel. Despite numerous online claims to the contrary, I didn’t really notice a difference between this British chocolate and the good old American chocolate I’m used to knocking back one fun-sized baggy of M&M’s at a time. It’s creamy and milky, with ribbons of sweet cocoa cascading throughout like calming, sugared sonar signals. This chocolate may taste slightly more fatty than our granulated American fare, but a bulk of the choco-goodness was overwhelmed by the caramel anyway.

As its most predominant flavor, the Lion Bar’s thick caramel mantle is both delectable and detestable. It has a mouthwatering browned butter richness, but the caramel is also so chewy that any real lion would fear for the structural integrity of his pointed canines. It puts Lion Bars right up there with Butterfingers at the top of the “Candy Bars I Love to Eat But Not Dig Out of My Molars 4 Hours Later While Stuck in Traffic” list.

This chewiness hurts the bar’s flaky, wafered core the most. On its own, the wafer is my favorite part of a Lion Bar: it smacks of vanilla fun, it tastes as buttery as everything surrounding it, and it’s stuffed with lightly caramelized goo. All together, it tastes like crème brûlée made by the Keebler elves.

But under the smothering weight of its caramel coat, the wafer doesn’t get to fully shine. The caramel may be good, but it should learn to share the spotlight. Instead, I’m left straining for a little extra wafer flavor, like it’s a lone Kit-Kat that I just know is buried somewhere beneath all the Werthers in my grandma’s antique candy bowl.

And speaking of Kit-Kats, a Lion Cereal Bar, when eaten holistically, tastes like three iconic Nestlé candy bars rolled together into a single, ceremonious log. It has the heart of a Kit-Kat, the über-chewy choco-caramel exterior of a 100 Grand, and the addictively crackling rice of a Crunch. I have to wonder whether smushing one of each of those bars together would produce the same flavor, but Halloween is still 10 months away and I don’t want to freak out my local convenience store cashier at the late night hour I’m writing this review.

All candy chemistry aside, the eternal trick-or-treater who lives in me loved this Lion Bar, despite its caramel potency and weak cereal component. But since I’m already indulging my inner child, I might as well make an early (very early) breakfast out of it:

It’s as ugly as you’d imagine a chopped-up candy bar breakfast would be, and it’s no substitute for Lion Cereal, but a Lion Bar with milk is pretty tasty: it’s much less chewy, and the absorbent wafer cookie finally gets to perform its triumphant solo. I’ll probably stick to eating my Lion Bars whole (if I can ever find them again), but “made milky, candied sushi” will still make it on the 2016 highlight reel.

It probably won’t help my case with those nutritionists, though.

The “Bowl:” Nestlé Lion Cereal Bar

The Breakdown: A delightful Frankenstein’s Monster mashup of three Nestlé candy bars, Lion is still held back from true stardom by its chocolate-caramel lead actors, who overshadow the bar’s crispy bit players.

The Bottom Line: 8 Werthers archaeological digs out of 10

(Quick Nutrition Facts: 269 calories, less than 1 gram of fiber, 30 grams of sugar, and 3 grams of protein per 1 bar serving)