“Aw, I gotta play with that guy??” Green Apple whines. “But Mom, he’s totally uncool! Fig always gets picked last when we play fruitball—a total poindexter.”

Yes, I imagine figs as the unpopular kid in the brutal playground hierarchy of the personified fruit world. I mean, fig has what: fancy mostarda and some under-celebrated cookies named after the inventor of calculus? I don’t blame you, Green Apple: if Momma Quaker forced me to go on a playdate with Fig, I’d turn sour too.

Yet here we are anyway: about to dive into a steaming bowl of Quaker’s newest instant oatmeal flavor: Green Apple Fig. If you’re wondering why I’m using so many colons in this review, the answer’s simple: with 4 grams of fiber and enough infused antioxidants to take a true crime TV channel off the air, this Green Apple Fig oatmeal is all about the colon.

And now that we’ve gotten my token crude joke out of the way, let’s dig in!

Better warn Campbell’s, because this oatmeal is chunkier than a can of Xtra Chunky Beef Stew that’s 5 months past its “Best By” date. With hunks of wrinkly maroon figs and diced cubelets of apple—which come in both “pure ‘n’ mushy” and “fibrously green-skinned” varieties, Quaker Green Apple Fig Oatmeal is certainly a mouthfeel parade for the tastebuds. If you like to chew your oatmeal, this stuff’ll be like a bowl of breakfast Bubbilicious.

As for the taste? It’s wildly disparate and unpredictable between bites. Each spoonful is absolutely flavor-dominated by whichever ingredient is most present: fig-heavy scoops taste like warm, candied and tangy prunes (though not much like Fig Newtons—get in on this huge opportunity, Kellogg’s!), plain apple bites are like un-spiced apple pie filling, while gulps that prominently feature those green and skinny apple nuggets taste as uncannily fake as a Sour Green Apple Jolly Rancher—or maybe more like a Green Apple Pop-Tart, smushed into mush.

These different flavors never really gel together. Every chunk I carve out of my mealy mound is a 1 in 3 chance of getting a good flavor (I enjoy the pruned uniqueness), a rubbery and bland flavor (the so-so pie), or an unpleasantly puckering flavor (oatmeal should never pucker anything). The only thing Quaker’s Green Apple Fig Oatmeal doesn’t taste like is actual oatmeal. The trio of candied fruit confections I described completely usurp any toasted oat goodness you may be rightfully expecting from a literal meal of oats.

So while I applaud Quaker for trying something new and combining an innovative pair of fruits for this never-before-seen breakfast buddy cop movie, I wish the flavors were either more subdued or better balanced against each other. The fact that some bites taste like gelatinous green Skittles doesn’t help, either. Oatmeal lovers in need of a wake-up shake-up—or those with way too many oxidants, I guess—should still give this one a try, but the rest of us are better off sticking with something that pairs more harmoniously with oatmeal’s natural earthiness: like Maple Brown Sugar, the always reliable G.O.A.T. (Greatest Oatmeal of All Time).

Or you could just grab a sleeve of Fig Newtons, insert them into a microwaved McDonald’s Apple Pie, and go to town. I promise I won’t look (but I might take pictures).

The Bowl: Quaker Green Apple Fig Oatmeal with Antioxidants

The Breakdown: Juicily pruned figs, blasé pie filling, and syrupy candy all vies for flavor domination in a bowl that loses sight of what makes oatmeal oatmeal: the oats!

The Bottom Line: 5 chewy pouches of Big League Oatmeal out of 10