Banana Caramel Cheerios? More like, Caramel Banana Cheerios!
That’s it.
That’s the whole review.
Go on, you’ve got like, Neopets to feed, right?
…
Okay fine, I’ll elaborate. Continue reading
Banana Caramel Cheerios? More like, Caramel Banana Cheerios!
That’s it.
That’s the whole review.
Go on, you’ve got like, Neopets to feed, right?
…
Okay fine, I’ll elaborate. Continue reading
Cheeri-Oats are the Cheery G.O.A.T.s!
There ya go, General Mills: I just wrote you a free catchphrase that uses trendy lingo all today’s kids can relate to.
What’s that you say? I’m not a youth any more, let alone a hip nor happenin’ one? Well listen, I came here to review twice-fruited Cheerios, not walk right into a self-inflicted existential crisis like Sideshow Bob into a rake.
The point of my haplessly out-of-touch sloganeering was to simply point out how, as a brand, Cheerios does not miss. Those dense ‘n’ hearty toasted oat rings are the perfect vehicles for any flavor imaginable, to the point where I can’t think of a Cheerios variety I didn’t like. At worst, you’ll get something that’s just plain solid like Chocolate Strawberry Cheerios, but more often than not, Cheerios is cranking, churning, extruding, and glazing out hit after hit—to the point where it starts to make little sense why less impeccably consistent cereal lines like Lucky Charms and the Toast Crunch family seem to get all the public praise.
I get it, though. Cheerios doesn’t have the same bombastic, kid-focused and mascot-fronted brand appeal, but darn it, Cheerios should. As one of the last breakfast aisle bastion’s of purely oat-powered acumen, Cheerios deserves first dibs when it comes to creative new flavor infusions.
And if, somehow, you needed even more convincing proof of Cheerios’ wholesome bowlsome of O-some awesomeness, look no further than these new Strawberry Banana Cheerios. Continue reading
Picture it: somewhere, just at the fringes of your imagination, in the middling space between reality and the dreamworld, lies a shimmering castle made from pastry crust. And it is in this prismatic palace—where the lucid may not set foot, lest they wish to be toasted into this kingdom’s very foundations—that a great and powerful sorcerer distills the divine will of some great cosmic breakfast entity into new Pop-Tart flavors.
I mean, sure, it sounds farfetched, but how else do you explain the sheer lunacy of all these new Pop-Tarts?
Pshh, like some buttoned-up bozos in a boardroom could dream up Banana Creme Pie Pop-Tarts. Don’t make me laugh. We all know the toaster pastries I’m about to try stem from just three of Frosted Lord Convectia’s many holy appendages.
Now, allow me to pay Him his due respects, by gorging myself on a bacchanal buffet of processed fruit rectangles. Continue reading
Evolution is a slow process, one that’s unlikely for an individual to fully witness. That’s why it’s taken me so long to write about Banana Special K—this is a cereal brand that debuts new flavors in geological increments. With no fanfare and little variation in box design, trying to spot a new Special K is like trying to spot a new paint sample at Home Depot from three aisles over.
As an on-the-beat cereal blogger who lives in the milky moment—the ever-crunchy now—I could scarcely tell Banana Special K (which actually came out closer to January) from Vanilla & Almond.
But it’s better late than never, so I’ll try to make this quick—err, I mean Kwik. With a capital K. Continue reading
Heh, if you thought the economic prognosis for cereal was grim, then its perennial bowlfellow is facing an udderly dire future.
Of course, as active eaters are focusing on more energizing breakfasts, and as dairy consumption is plummeting by the billions of dollars, interest in milk alternatives is increasing amongst consumers across all levels of lactose tolerance. Oat milk, especially, is taking off as the hippest, sippest stuff to put on your cereal—especially if you’re eating a creepy–corny cereal that desperately needs to throwback to the good oat days.
In a radical effort to make milk more appealing to modern kids, Borden Farms has launched three State Fair-inspired milk flavors in select, fair-friendly states. Symbolically implying a situation wherein a blue-ribbon 4H cow broke loose from the clumsy trappings of man to storm the deep-fried fairway before being milked by opportunistic carnies looking to get the most bang out of their heifer-heisted buck, these milks bring Blueberry Cobbler, Banana Taffy, and Cotton Candy to the breakfast table.
Overlooking the clear missed opportunity for a caramelized Funnel Cake Milk (milked from real elephant ears!), this potent lineup of tastes was kindly sent to me by Borden’s Elsie the Cow herself, who pseudo-calmly reminded me between moos that I simply must squat on my stoop in anticipation of a shipment that must be refrigerated immediately in order to keep her sweet nectar crisp and uncurdled.
Well, mission accomplished, Elsie. I don’t do many milk reviews on this site, but given that atomically hued milks are practically begging to be poured atop flavorfully complementary cereals, I couldn’t resist the chance to get a little artsy with my pairings. Here’s hoping I at least get a participation ribbon in the Pastoral Landscapes category. Continue reading
Cult classic cereals are fascinating.
The Rocky Horrors of the breakfast world, this ragtag bunch of sweethearts from across time and space have won the lifelong loyalty of a select few weirdos (meant in the most loving way) who may have only had them a few times, but would risk life, limb, and even liver to taste them again.
For me, it’s Neopets Islandberry Crunch. Fellow cereal pundit Gabe Fonseca has a proclivity for Sprinkle Spangles. And for a whole bunch of others, including Marvo of The Impulsive Buy, Banana Frosted Flakes has kept their eyes peeled for a suitable substitute since the early ’80s.
Though I’m left unripely green with envy that I never got to try Tony’s classic Banana Flakes, I’m hoping Kellogg’s new Banana Creme Frosted Flakes will fulfill its forefather’s lingering hype. More so, I hope it successfully charts a whole new niche for an already undersung fruit flavor. For the past few years have seen Banana Berry, Banana Bread, Banana Split, and Banana Pudding cereals, but our mom’s favorite banana dessert has stayed mum.
Until now, that is. So go ahead, Anthony T. Tiger: pie me in the face. Continue reading
What will the cereal of the future look like?
Long dubbed the ice cream of the future, Dippin’ Dots’ (I’m gonna need to order another box of apostrophes) famous evolution was both the atomization and flesh-ripping frostification of the classically amorphous dairy treat using dry ice.
Since there’s already been cereal with freeze dried ice cream bits, any truly revolutionary cereal will have to up the ante from there.
Micro-chipped cereal for GPS-powered “Breakfast Go” mobile games? Zero calorie Diet Cereal (or at least translucent Crystal Cereal?)?
Ooh, or maybe a 100% All Beef Hot Dog Cereal…you know…to compete with Dippin’ Dots’ at the ball game?
Regardless, General Mills’ new Dippin’ Dots Cereal is here, to the delight of many and the frustration of one, and I’m going to see if it’s as innovative as its namesake by first trying the flavor that fits with this week’s theme of banana madness: Banana Split!
(If I die of a potassium overdose, blame whichever Banana in Pyjamas has a higher net worth.)
Da-da-dum da-da-dum, da-da-dum-dum-dum.
Da-da-dum da-da-dum, da-da-dum-dum-dum.
da-da-dum da-da-dum da-da-dum-dum-dum DA-DA-DUUUUM da-da-dum-dum-dum.
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.