Milk? Never heard of her. Is that some fermented barnyard beverage, like a cow-bucha?

I mean, it’s 2020: we’ve got more viscous things to pour over our cereal. While many make a New Year’s resolution to get thinner, there’s a skim-to-none chance that I don’t spend the year progressively thickening my breakfast additives.

Case in point: new Yoplait Trix & Cinnamon Toast Crunch Smoothies, two chuggable recontextualizations of popular cereals that are likely not meant to join their namesake noshes in bowl-y matrimony—though I am hellbent on doing so anyway. These bottles come four to a clumsily constructed cardboard pack (seriously, put these in a separate bag or you’ll end up bungling a liter of chilled Trix sauce down your front steps), and conveniently contain exactly enough smoothie to douse a bowl of cereal.

But of course, I must slug ’em back raw before any experimentation. So forgive me as I make whatever wretched noises accompany the process of “opening up one’s throat.”

Yoplait Trix Smoothie 

Perhaps the cereal most deserving of a smoothie, Trix has an immortal reputation for blessing the world with the greatest yogurt of all time.

As I’ve deduced previously, it’s still possible to acquire Trix Yogurt—though you might need to be a licensed school cafeteria professional to do so. And while I’d love to say Yoplait’s Trix Smoothie perfectly re-creates the spoonable, swirl-able joy of a true-wildberry-blue Trix Yogurt cup, it doesn’t. Though to be fair, it doesn’t really try to.

See, where Trix Yogurt flavors pared down the multitudinous fruits of a certain Rabbit’s loom to two mixed tastes, Yoplait’s Trix Smoothie whips up the whole darn cornucopia. The result is a rather homogenous mix of palpable strawberry and pulpable citrus—think lemon cream pies dunked in an Orange Julius. Since the smoothie nevertheless contains yogurt, the natural tang of cultured dairy product charmingly supplements said citrus, making Yoplait’s interpretation, in a sense, a much more authentic evolution of Trix’s spectrally sour-ish fruit cereal pieces.

There are a couple crucial issues with Yoplait’s Trix Smoothie, though. Namely how, despite this pleasant puckering, this rosy goop is still so sweet. It’s as if real Trix endmilk was candied and jellied ’til it became a saccharine stew. This holds true for the texture, too: yes, smoothies are meant to be a middle ground between creamy yogurt and fluid milk, but these particular cereal smoothies occupy a a strange, uncanny valley where things are too thin to spoon yet too thick to chug without feeling like you’re downing uncooked pie filling.

Despite what my above image would indicate, I don’t recommend actually using Trix Smoothie as a milk replacement for cereal. It’s simply too sugary, and the addition of crunchy chunks into an already uncomfortably coagulated mix makes for an especially visceral viscosity. Nevertheless, kids will probably love this smoothie, while silly adults should give it a shot (please don’t take it like a shot) only if they’re prepared to sugar crash harder than a Kool-Aid man whose punch has been spiked with simple syrup.

The Bottom Line: 5.5 cups of unnaturally horticultured fruit sauce out of 10

Yoplait Cinnamon Toast Crunch Smoothie 

Surely Cinnamon Toast Crunch, one of the breakfast aisle’s most unwaveringly beloved cereals, could do better justice to a Yoplait Smoothie, right?

Nuuunnngh-o.

Sorry, that was me trying to say “no” while half-gargling, half-choking on a mouthful of semisolid cinna-swill. Though you may have inferred why by this point, the reason Yoplait’s Trix Smoothie is an immediately apparent better half to Cinnamon Toast Crunch is that the yogurt blend’s tartness doesn’t meld quite so appetizingly with Cinnamon Toast Crunch’s straightforward torrent of cinnamon sugar. In fact, this Smoothie almost tastes like it’s been deliberately oversweetened in an attempt to mask any unwanted peripheral bacterial bite.

Tragically, this only serves to make Yoplait’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch Smoothie borderline undrinkable—the potent ribbons of cinnamon sugar call to mind pumps of intravenous Frappuccino flavoring or curdled Cinnabon icing. Needless to say, trying this over real Cinnamon Toast Crunch should be for the express purposes of performance art. If you really want to slam back a cool ooze of sweet cinnamon, you’re better off cryogenically preserving a genuine bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and chucking it into a food processor.

Because as it stands, the most authentically Toast Crunchian part of this Smoothie is how it makes my innards, much like the cereal’s mascots, want to devour each other out of sheer hysteria.

The Bottom Line: 3.5 non-Chewtonian fluids out of 10