There are a lot of retro cereals Kellogg’s could’ve brought back.
Pokémon Cereal seems poised for a Detective Pikachu-themed comeback (hopefully without all the textured fur). OJ’s could fill the Orange Creampop Crunch-sized hole in my heart/roof of mouth. Or C3PO’s could return with special “Red Arm Marshmallows”—though I’m not sure anyone would recognize them at that point.
But no, rather than any of those, we got Strawberry Krispies. This 1983 cereal (with an early 2000s freeze-dried spiritual successor), is a tame choice—though I suppose it is a doubtlessly safer business investment for nosh-able necromancy than, say, Strawberry Crunchy Loggs.
But come on: that cereal was just a slow burner!
Wistful beggars can’t be choosers, I guess. Time to drown my crystal tears of extinct nostalgia in a few rose-tinted milk glasses instead.
Noun: breakfession; plural noun: breakfessions
a formal admission of guilt for violating cereal orthodoxy
“He signed a breakfession to mixing orange juice with Cocoa Puffs. He shall be milkboarded until sunrise as penance.”
Deep breath, Jared. You can do this.
Fellow cereal heads, I have to own up to something. This goes against every sacred principle our people hold. I won’t blame you for pelting me with marbits and extruded grains of various magical configurations. But I can’t go on hiding in the pantry like this. (Literally, because it’s very small and there are, like, fifteen boxes of cereal in there. Plus potential spiders.)
Friends. I don’t like Lucky Charms.
I know. I get it! Just hear me out. The substance of Lucky’s original treasure is about as bland as it gets. Even Corn Flakes at least taste like their eponymous source material, so you can throw a mushy hoedown while contemplating the familial history of Cornelius the Rooster and the NBC peacock. What, you’ve never noticed the obvious resemblance? Something tells me Miss Prissy wasn’t the only fryer in Foghorn’s coop.
The cardboard bits turn to mush and distract from the marshmallows which, while fun, have no taste other than straight fructose. There’s no complexity going on here. Sorry, Lucky, but your two-note song just doesn’t groove me.
So when Dan drew my Trader Joe’s-loving attention to Crispy Quinoa Stars, I was less-than-enthused. The box image immediately trips my ingrained Charms avoidance. These crispy crucibles of the known periodic table look just like the dry kibble that makes LCs such a chore to eat. But, hey, a cereal journalist has obligations, and the people need to know. So let’s fly through the cerealsphere to TJ’s in my (used, beat-up, Honda) rocket ship! Continue reading →
2018 has been weird. Here at the C.R.U.N.C.H. Tactical Headquarters (Cerealously Research Unified Network for Communications and Hijinks), there’s an eerie calm this Halloween season. As the big Monster Cereals anniversary coincides with Kellogg’s spoony decision to again throw down the gauntlet-shaped marbit, I at least expected to see some excitement. And yet most major news has centered on either the Festivus season or Pop-Tarts’ yeasty second rise to prominence.
So without much in the way of fresh Halloween bowls to plunder, my autumn-obsessed gaze turns to secondary flavors. Just like how Charlie Brown’s Christmas and Great Pumpkin escapades eclipse the rest of his oeuvre (I’ll always remember you,It’s Dental Flossophy, Charlie Brown), certain taste profiles are overshadowed by pumpkin spice’s ubiquity. But what’s a hayride at the pumpkin patch without cider and caramel apples? A new challenger approaches, and it has seriously rosy cheeks.
Trader Joe’s Caramel Apple Flavored Granola makes a bold promise. Cinnamon apple is one thing, but caramel? Joe may have gotten himself into a sticky situation. Reviews like this can result in quite a pun-undrum.
S’Mores, brownie batter, caramel: all slightly unconventional flavors that, despite not being a honey nut, chocolate, or strawberry, always seem to find their way back into the breakfast aisle—and some how under our nails, in our hair, and even binding together electronics as a haphazard tape replacement.
What, you didn’t know toasted marshmallow was a great conductor?
In all seriousness, this class of adhesive alumni are led by their viscous valedictorian: maple syrup. A popular arboreal elixir in Vermont and Vancouver alike, maple is such a sticky flavor that Maple Cheerios, released last year as an allegedly Canada-exclusive cereal to celebrate the country’s 150th birthday (that’s a lot of pancake candles), has arrived in the U.S.
Must’ve stuck to the bottom of a border-crossing General Mills truck, hence the spilled-syrup maple leaf—I can only assume this is a government-issued Canadian seal of approval, like how America’s exported cereals must get ranch & mayonnaise stars & stripes. Continue reading →
There’s a billboard just down the road from my local Carl’s Jr. that posits “Love is great, but food never broke my heart.”
Lies! You see, Hardee’s (who moonlights as Carl’s Jr. due to a grill experiment gone deliciously awry) was my tribe’s preferred burger joint back in the ’90s, when everything was better, from radio to the base grain of certain eagerly-anticipated monster-themed cereals. Family trips to Hardee’s were highlighted by curly fries. Sure, other chains had them (you’re a champ for sticking with it, Arby’s!), but the perfect blend of peppery orange curls came from the only chain bold enough to combine Apollo 13 with POGs. Sadly, much like that gravity-bending collab, curly fries were lost to fast food lore when Carl’s Jr. married into the clan.
So (artificially) color me surprised that you’re-not-my-real-dad’s counter-service conservatism was repealed for a moment to make way for Froot Loops…donuts?! That’s right, just as Kellogg’s cereals are striking back against the General Mills Halloween empire, those neon-hued rebels are also coming for your throne, Little Debbie. And if the Wars taught us anything, it’s that you shouldn’t underestimate the power of small, bright green packages. Continue reading →
You ever have that one kid at your school who was really weird back in the day but is now doing super cool stuff?
You know, the kid who would eat paste like pasta sauce in elementary school, hiss at kids in the hallway in middle school, and insist on being called “Chuck” in high school, even though his name was like, Roger? The kid who would eventually grow up to make crazy science stuff, or build bridges? Or at least build cool LEGO dioramas in his basement?
Haha, I know you all had a kid like that, but there definitely wasn’t one in my school. Ahah, why is everyone looking at me.
Long autobiography short, Great Value is like that kid. I’ve never once had a Great Value Toaster Pastry—I always preferred Kroger’s store brand because of its crudely adorable Toaster Treats mascot—but seeing them release a mystery flavor, before even Pop-Tarts or Toaster Strudel (who knows, Toaster Treat might be brewing up a fan-elected flavor)
Great Value just turned its bargain rectangle reputation into one that’s handsome and enigmatic. Could it be an appropriately Walmart flavor, like Fruit Punch Pickles? Could it be a Dum-Dum-style production error (like Fruit Punch Pickles)? Or could it be the flavor of a Walmart floor itself?
Only the unseen foiled abyss knows the answer. I’m going in. Continue reading →
I don’t know which age gap is bigger here: the one between the elderly countenance of fibrous shredded wheat and the inherent hip and/or intellectual youthfulness of a vanilla latte, or the quantum leap between that same vanilla latte and the disturbingly clownish/juvenile bootleg SpongeBob face of Frosted Mini-Wheats’ new(ish) mascot design.
Most know by now, but I have negative fondness for him. I believe his parents were a normal Frosted Mini-Wheat and a blob of radioactive sewage.
All Geiger counters in my Amazon cart aside, I’m excited to try the non-buffoonishly anthropomorphized Vanilla Latte Frosted Mini-Wheats that lie inside, perhaps in a steam of powdered sugar.
Because Kellogg’s is one for one on Vanilla Latte sweets, meaning if they knock this out of the park, Chocolate Mocha Mini-Wheats can’t be far behind.
If you couldn’t tell by my horrible phonetic theme song translation, this is officially part two (outta who even knows any more) of Cerealously’s Banana Cereal Bonanza, an unplanned event kicked-off deliciously by Kellogg’s and now perpetuated by Post’s Honey Bunches of Oats, one of their flagship, 10/10-earning cereal series that has hitherto been left out of Post’s noteworthy recent resurgence.
But no longer: no cereal brand can slip past Post’s cereal war draft, so now Honey Bunches of Oats (specifically their cult favorite almond variety), has slipped right into the fray Mario Kart-style, on the peeled wings of some smiling banana angels, whose flavor has allegedly been baked into every eponymous granola bunch.
As an expert on Mario Kart theology—divine intervention once saved me on Rainbow Road—I intend to test this theory with a spoon as my chalice.
