Over the last year and change, my family has gotten used to the fact that when we go to the grocery store, at some point I’m going to veer off to search a random aisle for new products to review.  Sometimes there’s nothing, but last week turned up a variety of options to choose from.  That is, until I came across Ruffles Smokehouse Style BBQ chips… then there was no choice at all.  Railroads in Monopoly don’t get purchased as quickly as I bought that bag.
 
The fact is, I love ribs, and I used to have a favorite rib joint that my in-laws introduced me to.  (Not the only reason they’re the best in-laws in the world, but certainly top three.)  This place had more styles of ribs than you can imagine — baby back, St. Louis style spare ribs, Bourbon Street, South Carolina honey, Cajun, Texas beef short ribs, sesame garlic — and they were all excellent.  Worth every inch of the 15 mile drive.  But then last year they suddenly closed when the government bought out the land they were situated on, with no plans to reopen elsewhere.  Damn the Man!

So I’ve been deprived of good ribs for over a year now.  New Year’s Eve came and went without our traditional feast, and it hurt.  And when it’s been that long, well… sometimes anything even vaguely associated with what you’re missing starts to look good.  Veronica Mars may be gone forever, but Kristen Bell’s latest romantic comedy can’t be that bad, right?  (Right?)  I knew no potato chip could ever replace our departed rib joint, but like a lonely man in Amsterdam, I was easy prey for the chips’ siren call.  Part of that is the packaging, which prominently displays a succulent, well-seasoned rack of ribs, but the rest is my innate suggestibility, because apparently some tiny part of me truly believed there were actual ribs in there.  (P.S.- There are not.)

Still, that doesn’t mean the product is doomed to failure.  As you might expect, opening the package wafts a strong smell toward your nostrils.  Even after having consumed most of the bag, there’s still a noticeable but not overpowering scent.  It’s a slightly spicy aroma, though you’d never mistake it for the smell from an actual order of ribs.  (Shame, because I would absolutely buy rib-scented air freshener, and you know you would too.)  Appearance-wise, they just look like regular Ruffles that someone has coated in typical barbecue chip spices.  I’m considering writing to Ruffles and suggesting they include one actual cow bone in every bag, because you just like to have something to gnaw on when you’re done eating, you know?  But that’s another story.

But when you actually taste one, it’s hard to get past the fact that it tastes like: a barbecue chip.  No less and not much more.  There’s perhaps some minor variation from your “average” barbecue chip — these just might be a shade smoother with not quite as much sharp aftertaste, and at times I thought I detected a hint of smokiness — but then again, maybe not.  It would take a more discerning palate than mine to draw a clear distinction between these and any other BBQ chips you’ve eaten.  Naming them “smokehouse style” is a good marketing tool, as is the picture of ribs on the bag, but a more honest name might’ve been “Basically Just Some Barbecue Chips (with ridges).”  Now I happen to like barbecue chips, so that’s not the end of the world.  But if you entertained a vague hope that these would in some way approximate a true rib-eating experience, well… sorry that you’re as naive or desperate as me.

In the end, it’s as true of rib joints as it is of life: something great, once lost, can never be recaptured.  You can wander around New Jersey all you want (and I have), you’re never going to find Wellsville.  But of course, you never really expected to — your brain knew all along what your heart won’t accept.  So you can either content yourself with the journey and your ridged barbecue chips, or you can keep looking for another fantastic rib shack.  Me, I’m going to continue the search.  But in the meantime, Ruffles Smokehouse Style BBQ flavored potato chips are an unremarkable but steadfast companion to have along for the ride. 

(Nutrition Facts – 1 oz/about 11 chips – 160 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of total fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 2.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 210 milligrams of potassium, 15 grams of total carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 2 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Ruffles Smokehouse Style BBQ reviews:

Fat Guy Food Blog
We Rate Stuff

Item: Ruffles Smokehouse Style BBQ Potato Chips
Price: $4.29
Size: 9 ounces
Purchased at: Giant
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Ridged for your pleasure.  Tantalizing packaging.  Smell is appealing but not overly spicy.  Rib-scented air freshener.  As far as BBQ chips go, they’re pretty good ones.  Obscure Pete & Pete references for the mf’ing WIN.
Cons: Be honest, they’re just barbecue chips.  The government stealing the rib man’s land.  Deceptive packaging.  Hard to tell if they’re actually any smokier than any other barbecue chip.  Why is Kristen Bell not out there solving crimes?  That’s a lot of calories and fat per chip. 

Faithful TIB readers will recall Jasper reviewing Kellogg’s Krave Chocolate Cereal, stating that while it wasn’t exactly an “adult” cereal, it was tasty without making him feel like the 11-year-old that he actually is (probably) (just kidding, Jasper!).  I read that with great interest, then scooped up a box of Krave Double Chocolate at the first opportunity, determined to see whether upping the chocolate quotient would make me less wizened and grinch-like.  While I’m still cursing at people who don’t use their turn signals, I have noticed a 54 percent decrease in shuffling, complaining about the chill, and watching Jay Leno, so I’m going to call this one a success!

On opening the box and taking a whiff, I was greeted with a vague chocolate smell, similar but not entirely like other chocolate cereals like Cocoa Pebbles or Cocoa Puffs.  Even holding a piece right up to my nose, it’s not as powerful a scent as I would have expected out of double chocolate anything; but the smell may just be locked in by a non-nutritive cereal varnish, semi-permeable but not osmotic, which coats and seals the piece.  Regardless, I started by trying a few pieces dry, and I was happy with what I experienced.  The cereal bits are suitably crunchy without being too hard or jagged edged, and the small burst of chocolate inside hits you like a little surprise a second or two after your taste buds have registered the outer layer.  It’s a well timed one-two punch, with the outer part being a bit of a subtler, less intense chocolate, but the inner component being richer.  High marks all around.

Given that, I was really eager to get the milk on and see how I liked them.  Regrettably, I have to report that while milk is almost always an improvement to cereal, it had the opposite effect on Double Chocolate Krave.  Don’t get me wrong, they’re still flavorful, but almost too much so — my teeth seemed to be on the verge of hurting with every bite.  My suspicion is that when the milk penetrates to the inside layer of chocolate, it turns it more liquidy; and while you’d think that would be a good thing, it actually makes it overly chocolate-y, if such a thing is possible.  I mean, I have a sweet tooth and all, but a 17-year-old girl who got dumped a week before prom would say this was a little too much chocolate.  I feel like I visited a guy on the street corner looking for an ounce of weed and he injected me with black tar heroin.

Aside from the flavor, I found that they didn’t stay crunchy in milk very well at all — a mere five minutes of soaking reduced them to the firmness of a mushy banana, so either they don’t maintain consistency or someone at the grocery store is slipping acid into my milk.  Probably both.  (I have a lot of enemies.)  Since Jasper reported that the uni-chocolate variety held its crunchiness pretty well in milk, I’m wondering if it’s something to do with the different outer layers — maybe nutella and whatever else is in the casing of the regular variety is better at saying no than chocolate, the village bicycle.

While I can only give Kellogg’s Krave Double Chocolate a moderate score due to its overpowering taste and loose consistency in milk, I’d definitely recommend picking some up to eat dry as a party snack or something.  All told, it appears to simply be that rare cereal that’s better without the milk.  The back of the box makes reference to “chocovores,” so I guess I’m just one of those chocovores who likes his meals raw and unseasoned.  Grrrrr.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cup (cereal only) – 120 calories, 30 calories from fat, 3.5 grams of total fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1 gram of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 95 milligrams of sodium, 80 milligrams of potassium, 23 grams of total carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 10 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Kellogg’s Krave Double Chocolate Cereal reviews:
Option Pitch and Waffle Crisp

Item: Kellogg’s Krave Double Chocolate Cereal
Price: $3.99
Size: 11 ounces
Purchased at: Giant
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Tastes great dry.  Good crunch.  Not overpowering scent.  Nice one-two chocolate flavor combo.  Satisfying your chocolate craving for the next five years.  Would probably make for a good party snack food.
Cons: Milk somehow makes it too sweet and chocolate-y.  People who don’t use their turn signals.  Gets soggy quickly.  They misspelled “crave.”  Being the only product in the world where more chocolate is a bad thing.  Comparing chocolate to hardcore drugs.

[When my oldest daughter started talking, we transitioned her from Cheerios to Alpha-Bits, and as a side effect wondered if they'd boost her language skills.  They just stopped selling Alpha-Bits at our grocery store, so I guess my youngest will have to make do with just the one letter.]
 
Ah, Cheerios… dullest of all breakfast cereals.  There’s a measure of respect in that — you don’t become an institution by pandering to the latest fads like “marshmallows” or “sugar,” or by changing your shape or packaging every six months like some hussy — but the fact remains, Cheerios are boring.  Rice Krispies at least crackle and pop (that “snap” stuff is BS), and if nothing else Total and Bran Flakes come in irregular shapes.  (Shredded Wheat doesn’t count, no one under 65 has ever eaten any.)  Honey Nut Cheerios are essentially the “kids” version of Cheerios, and when that wasn’t enough, they started frosting the sumbitches.  But the reinvention bug is hard to shake once it digs into your scalp and lays eggs, and recent years have brought a slew of new Cheerios varieties from General “Bills” Mills.  The latest?  Dulce de Leche Cheerios and Multi Grain Cheerios Peanut Butter.
 

You have to think it’d be hard to screw up caramel-flavored Cheerios, and you would be right.  Actually, I’m surprised it’s not a more common flavor — offhand I can’t think of any other caramel cereals I’ve ever heard of, though I’m sure there must have been some.  Seems like a pretty obvious taste to partner with milk, but I guess that’s why I’m not one of those high-powered cereal fat cats.  Regardless, it’s been implemented to good effect here.  Wikipedia tells me that “dulce de leche” means “sweet of milk” and is technically caramel-like, but much like a good Romex watch, you won’t be able to tell the difference.  Akin to its honey nut brethren, the taste is distinct but not overwhelming, so you enjoy each spoonful but don’t feel like you’re actually eating candy.  As you can tell, I’m a big fan, both for the taste and the probably misplaced belief that this qualifies as “eating healthy.”  And not that it really matters, but the O’s come in two different colors: as tan as my parents and sister in the summer, and as white as me in the always.
 

And in column B we have Multi Grain Cheerios Peanut Butter.  If you pay any attention to the news (don’t worry, me neither), you may have heard about all the parents up in arms about this cereal.  In brief, lots of young kids these days have nut allergies because we stopped sacrificing virgins to Mr. Peanut last century, and he is a jealous and angry legume.  Since the peanut butter variety looks pretty much identical in color to regular Multi Grain Cheerios, there’s a fear that oblivious parents might send some to school for their own kid, a child with allergies could grab some, and BAM! — peanutality.  Personally, my kid’s worst experience with peanuts was jamming one up her nose and needing to have it removed by a specialist (to the tune of $900 if we didn’t have insurance, because apparently science has not yet invented the peanut magnet), but I understand the concern.  I’m as disdainful of overprotective parents as anyone, but just a whiff of these things sends a wave of peanut butter flooding into your sinuses.
 
That carries over to the flavor, too — if the dulce de leche variety flirted with a caramel taste, these grab peanut butter, drive it home, and rip off its shirt.  Not to say that’s a bad thing, though, depending on your feelings about peanut butter.  As I’ve mentioned before, I can take it or leave it if chocolate isn’t part of the equation (mental note: try adding Cocoa Puffs later), but I still thought they were decent; a true peanut butter lover will probably be in heaven.  As you’d expect, the longer you let them sit in milk, the more the taste dilutes, with the compensatory fact that you’re setting yourself up for some tasty milk.  (That goes double for the dulce de leche variety.  Mmmm!)
 
It’s always nice when you can try two new cereals and come out with two winners, and that’s the case here.  As a caramel fan I’ll be sticking with the Dulce de Leche Cheerios going forward, but those who worship at the altar of the great god C’shewlu are welcome to the peanut butter variety.  They may never topple Buzz and his honey nut version, but they’re way better than making do with boring ol’ regular Cheerios.
 
(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cup – Multi Grain Cheerios Peanut Butter – 110 calories, 15 calories from fat, 1.5 grams of total fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 0.5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 130 milligrams of sodium, 65 milligrams of potassium, 23 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 9 grams of sugars, 12 grams of other carbohydrates, and 2 grams of protein.  Dulce de Leche Cheerios – 100 calories, 15 calories from fat, 1.5 grams of total fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 0.5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 135 milligrams of sodium, 75 milligrams of potassium, 22 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugars, 14 grams of other carbohydrates, and 2 grams of protein.)
 
Other Dulce de Leche Cheerios and Multi Grain Cheerios Peanut Butter reviews:
Serious Eats
Option Pitch and Waffle Crisp

Items: Dulce de Leche Cheerios and Multi Grain Cheerios Peanut Butter
Price: $2.39 each
Size: 12 oz (Dulce de Leche)
Size: 11.3 oz (Peanut Butter)
Purchased at: Wegman’s
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Dulce de Leche);
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Peanut Butter)
Pros: Appealing to a new demographic without betraying who you are.  Multicolored Cheerios promote diversity.  Delicious but not overpowering caramel flavor.  Can’t beat a good Romex.  Strong peanut butter scent and flavor, if that’s your thing.  Both varieties give the leftover milk a great taste.  Reasonably healthy breakfast choice.
Cons: Cereals that only teach 1/26th of the alphabet.  Peanut butter taste a little strong for my taste.  Possibly killing some kids.  The continued non-existence of the peanut magnet.  Crazy obscure Lovecraft jokes that like 5 people will get.  Peanut butter variety would probably be better if combined with Chocolate Cheerios.

I don’t eat breakfast on-the-go very often, usually opting for a simple bowl of cereal and some OJ at the kitchen table with my kids.  Very Norman Rockwell.  But on rare occasions — like if between the baby and me it’s been a 3-diaper-change morning, or one where I have to shave, put the garbage out, AND explain why you can wear the sparkle shoes or the pink shoes but not the pink sparkle shoes — well, I might have to skip the suburban flakes and grab something on the way.  When that happens, it’s always Dunkin’ Donuts and I invariably get the same thing: a bismark, and a chocolate glazed (January-August) or pumpkin donut (September-December).  This does not change, because while there are other donuts I like, those are the best.  Feel free to disagree (everyone should take up a lost cause once in their life), but it should help you understand why I recently confused myself by walking into DD and not only not getting my usual order, but not getting a breakfast food whatsoever. 

That is, of course, due to DD’s latest offering, the Texas Toast Grilled Cheese.  Sort of a lunchtime offshoot of the recent Big N’ Toasty Breakfast Sandwich, your first thought on seeing one might be that it looks like they took the BN’T and stripped out the bacon and eggs.  And… there would be a lot of truth to that, as it does play sort of the basic model compared to the fully loaded BN’T.  To be specific, the new sandwich is two thick pieces of Texas toast with two slices of American cheese and one slice of cheddar in between.  The whole thing is ironically oven toasted rather than grilled, served hot (or in my case, kinda warm).

Any good grilled cheese sandwich obviously lives or dies by the cheese.  If you were hoping the Double D was going to get esoteric with their diary selection, guess again — American and cheddar are about the most predictable options they could’ve gone with.  The other side of that coin is that those are the most popular cheeses because they’re both really good.  However, I still think DD might’ve increased this sandwich’s mass appeal by giving us a few options to choose from, like Monterey Jack or Swiss.  But they didn’t, so you’ll get American and cheddar and like it.  And I did, mostly.  The cheddar had just a bit of kick to it, slightly sharp, which I like in a cheddar.  But it was mostly overwhelmed by the decent but standard American cheese, no doubt due to the 2:1 ratio.  Both kinds were melted well, another key component of any successful grilled cheese.  Overall, my impression of the cheeses was that they’re pretty good, but not exactly lighting the world on fire.

Ironically, my favorite part might’ve been what’s traditionally the most boring aspect of a sandwich, namely the bread.  Texas toast is one of those foods that’s fantastic when done well but really disappointing if it’s either under-toasted or burned.  Fortunately mine was just the right texture, toasted perfectly so that it was soft enough to easily dig into, but with enough crunch to feel satisfying.  It also tasted buttery, another must-have.

But that’s really it, because the cheese and the bread are the only two components of the sandwich.  Apparently it can be customized with bacon or ham, but DD might be shooting themselves in the foot by not better advertising that – I didn’t see any such option listed on the menu and my server didn’t offer it.  Which is a shame — I would’ve been willing to throw in a few more cents or a saucy wink in exchange for meat, because that’s the kind of carniv-whore I am.  Other than the missing pork, I didn’t mind too much because I’m a sandwich minimalist, but those who like to indulge in things like “pickles” and “condiments” and “fixins” will no doubt be left wanting worse than my high school girlfriend.  You know, when she didn’t get into the college she wanted.  Obviously.

Finally, not for nothing, but the fat and sodium content are more worrisome than my longstanding crush on Erin Esurance.  (Whatever, I’m not the only one.  The internet told me so!)  The sandwich is pretty filling, but unless it’s the only thing you’re eating for lunch, it could easily have you packing on the ell-bees.  I know, unlike the rest of Dunkin’ Donuts’ fare, but still.  Moderation is advised.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 sandwich – 510 calories, 270 calories from fat, 30 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 940 milligrams of sodium, 41 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of sugar, and 18 grams of protein)

Item: Dunkin’ Donuts Texas Toast Grilled Cheese Sandwich
Price: $2.99
Size: 1 sandwich
Purchased at: Dunkin’ Donuts
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Breaking out of your routine.  A little bite to the cheddar.  Melty, melty, melty.  Crunchy Texas toast.  Buttery flavor.  Fairly filling.  Ability to add meat.
Cons: Not publicizing the ability to add meat.  High fat and sodium content.  Lacking in the ingredients department.  No additional cheese selections.  I can make this exact sandwich in my kitchen in 5 minutes.

Ah, crackers.

For some reason I always find it hard starting off a cracker review.  Maybe it’s because crackers aren’t a very sexy food.  Candy is sexy.  Fruit can be very sexy.  Ice cream?  Ice cream is definitely sexy, which is ironic since eating a lot of it will have the opposite effect on you.  But crackers are not sexy.  Nobody has ever eaten crackers off someone’s naked body, and if they have, I don’t want to know about it.

But hey, it can’t all be fast food and desserts — at some point you’ve got to devote some time to the staples, the unsung members of the snack world.  And if that snack knows it isn’t glamorous but has gone to the trouble of decking itself out in sweet cinnamon for the holidays to make a good impression on your visiting relatives?  Well, that says a lot.  Be honest, ladies: what impresses you more, the guy who’s naturally gorgeous, or the one who goes out of his way to clean up, dress up, and put his best foot forward?  Exactly.  Wheat Thins Sweet Cinnamon are the homely guy who knows he doesn’t stand a chance with you, but dammit, he’s going to give it his best shot anyway.  You’ve got to admire that.

Mind you, I do like regular Wheat Thins, but I’m used to eating them as little sandwiches with cheese and/or pepperoni slices in between.  It’s rare that I’ll eat straight from a box of Wheat Thins, but that’s what seems most appropriate here, since neither cheese nor meat makes for a natural combination with cinnamon.  I would guess that’s why these are limited edition for the holidays, since they lose a little bit of their versatility for party settings, where you’re more likely to want to make cracker sandwiches.  However, what the cinnamon Wheat Thins lose in party food-ability, they gain back in solo use.  After all, you’re more likely to dig into a box of something on the couch if it’s sweet and can be enjoyed straight out of the package, without needing to cut cheese slices or get out the platter and martini glasses, or whatever people without two young kids do at parties these days.  (Network?  Spin the bottle?  Get crunk?  I just don’t know.)

It’s fair to say my expectations were pretty high for this product, because let’s be honest, cinnamon is awesome and it’s pretty hard to screw up sprinkling it on a cracker.  That’d be like praising me for writing a review that successfully uses the word “ass” three times… it’s just kind of expected.  Plus the snowman on the box predisposes me to wanting to like whatever’s inside, a tactic the government would do well to remember when issuing jury summons.  With all that being the case, my takeaway is that the cinnamon Wheat Thins are pleasant, and that’s probably the correct adjective.  Not “amazing” or “mind-blowing” or “pulchritudinous,” but pleasant.  A nice winter treat that would probably pair well with some hot chocolate while snuggled up with a loved one, watching Jimmy Stewart tough-talk an angel on Christmas.

[As an aside, do you know how hard it is to type "thins" rather than "things"?  Your fingers just want to add that "g".  Try it!]

You’re familiar with what you’re going to get if you’ve ever had Wheat Thins before, because the size, consistency, and texture are the same as they’ve always been, the only difference being the addition of cinnamon and sugar.  Speaking of which, I suspect this will be a polarizing product based on the amount of cinnamon per cracker.  It’s not insignificant — no one will confuse these with having a “hint of” cinnamon.  That said, they aren’t comprised solely of cinnamon and sugar pressurized and molded into the vague shape of a Wheat Thin either.  I personally found them tasty and think most people will as well, but anyone hoping these would equate to a slightly larger version of Cinnamon Toast Crunch is advised to keep walking.  (However, I did dip some in milk, just out of curiosity.  Not bad, but not something you’d want to eat out of a bowl with a spoon.)

Like a lot of you would have guessed, Wheat Thins Sweet Cinnamon is a product that offers zero surprises.  It’s exactly what the name implies it to be, and it looks and tastes exactly how you’d expect.  That doesn’t have to be a bad thing, though — the crackers ARE tasty, and they’re a safe snack food you can enjoy equally with friends or home alone in your pajamas.  (Those of you who wear them, anyway.  I know our readers like to walk on the wild side.)  If snack foods were an ’80s movie, they’d be the quiet nerd who never gets noticed until finally the stars align and Molly Ringwald takes a chance on him, only to discover that, hey, this guy’s got a little spice to him!  That’s Wheat Thins Sweet Cinnamon.  Enjoy them, and enjoy the holiday season!

(Nutrition Facts – 14 pieces – 140 calories, 45 calories from fat, 5 grams of total fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 3 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1 gram of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 90 milligrams of sodium, 55 milligrams of potassium, 21 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 5 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Limited Edition Wheat Thins Sweet Cinnamon reviews:
Junk Food Guy
So Good Blog
Dave’s Cupboard

Item: Limited Edition Wheat Thins Sweet Cinnamon
Price: $2.99
Size: 9.5 ounces
Purchased at: Wegman’s
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Reasonably nutritious.  Snowman on box.  Homely crackers who doll themselves up for you.  Can be readily enjoyed solo.  Unsurprising but pleasant taste.  Decent in milk.  Nabbing Molly Ringwald at the end.
Cons: Not bringing sexy back to crackers.  No good for making mini-sandwiches.  Doesn’t keep you guessing.  Not an effective breakfast cereal replacement.  Probably not enough cinnamon and sugar for some people.

If you’ve ever wondered how dedicated I am to this gig — if I’m just in it for the obscene salary, free back rubs, and ungodly number of loose women — then wonder no more.  A guy who’s just phoning it in, when reviewing a triple-flavored tub of ice cream, will simply dig in a spoon at random and start going to town.  A true professional will make certain he’s taking bites from each individual segment to ensure he’s getting an accurate flavor reading, pausing between each to “cleanse the palate” with some water.  He will do this no matter how hoity-toity it may make him feel at the time or how many beers he must drink afterward to not feel like a snobbish food critic.  Hypothetically.

But let’s face it: the world is changing.  Things that delighted and enthralled older generations just can’t cut it with today’s consumers, and unless you spent last Saturday in the parlor smoking and listening to the phonograph, I’m sure you agree.  By that token, Neapolitan ice cream was something to lose your shit over in the 1800s and quaintly pleasant in the late 20th century, but it’s just not cutting it in a new millennium.  Recognizing this trend, Edy’s has acted to rectify it by introducing a new tri-flavor: Triple Cookie Fudge Sundae.  Or possibly they just read my mind and realized I don’t like strawberry.  Either way: woohoo!  Note that this is part of Edy’s “Slow Churned” slightly healthier line of ice cream.  There apparently is another version in the “Fun Flavors” line, but I haven’t seen it.

As you can tell from the picture and probably could have guessed otherwise, a circular container is not conducive to perfectly equal proportions between the flavors.  That’s bad news if you’re a chocolate fiend, since it’s confined to a thin band sandwiched between the two vanilla-based varieties.  On the plus side, the circular nature of the tub favors those who like to mix their flavors, allowing one to easily scoop a swath through all three.  (Ice cream segregationists are out of luck… take your intolerance elsewhere, this is a progressive blog.)  Again, I tried to sample each flavor individually for reviewing purposes, but if you’re just eating a bowl absentmindedly while watching TV, you’re going to have definite flavor mixing; whether that’s a plus or a minus obviously comes down to personal preference.

The first flavor listed is vanilla chocolate chip & cookie dough, which seems overly verbose: I think the vanilla part is implied, and do you really need that ampersand in there?  Regardless, it’s pretty good ice cream, fairly creamy with a nice aftertaste.  (In fact, the carton itself boasts of its “now creamier taste,” though since this is a new flavor, I assume they’re talking about the slow-churned line in general.)  If I have a complaint, it’s that it doesn’t overload you with cookie dough chunks  — they’re there, but not exploding out of every spoonful.

The middle variety is chocolate with fudge swirl, ironically perhaps the most boring flavor.  That’s not easy to pull off when you’re sandwiched between two varieties of vanilla, which should tell you something.  It’s perfectly fine chocolate ice cream, but the fudge swirl is tasty but inconsistent, and I usually like something with contrasting texture mixed into my ice cream, though your mileage may vary.  For that reason, I wasn’t disappointed that this flavor accounts for the lowest total percentage of the tub.

For some reason the vanilla & brownies tastes a little creamier than the vanilla cookie dough, which is probably my imagination since I’m sure they were made from the same vanilla base.  The brownie chunks are surprisingly gooey and taste slightly like dark chocolate.  I don’t have any complaints about them except that there aren’t enough in there, even in comparison to the chocolate chip cookie dough, which as you’ll recall wasn’t exactly overwhelming me with its density either.

Taken as a whole, Edy’s Triple Cookie Fudge Sundae isn’t an unqualified success, but it’s certainly far from a failure.  I enjoyed myself while eating it, and I definitely wouldn’t be averse to having some again.  And since it’s slow churned, there’s a lot less fat and calories than regular ice cream, which is great.  But at the same time, it lacks that real “pop” that makes the memory of it stick with you long after the container is finished.  Maybe it was the stinginess of the mix-ins, or perhaps it was a bad idea to have two vanilla-based flavors… swapping one out with butter pecan, say, or making two of them chocolate-based could’ve been a way to go.  Still, if you decide to pick up a carton, I think you will like it.  You just might want to adjust your expectations going in for a good, not a great flavor.

(Nutrition Facts — 1/2 cup — 110 calories, 25 calories from fat, 2.5 grams of total fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 40 milligrams of sodium, 19 grams of total carbohydrates, 0 grams of dietary fiber, 13 grams of sugars, and 3 grams of protein)

Item: Edy’s Slow Churned Rich & Creamy Triple Cookie Fudge Sundae
Price: $3.39
Size: 1.5 quarts
Purchased at: Giant
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Kicks Neapolitan ice cream’s ass.  Not that bad for you.  Promotes integration.  Name is fun to say.  Creamy.  Reviewers who go the extra distance.
Cons: Too much J.D., not enough Turk.  Mix-ins not prevalent enough.  Ice cream segregationists.  Chocolate with fudge swirl should not be (but is) boring.  Lacks that “wow” factor that separates stars from supporting ice cream.