Sometimes, late at night, after I’ve had a really hard day and am in the mood for a good pity party, I get on the Internet and Google “Oreo O’s.”

I don’t do it because I find the sight of ambiguously gendered marshmallow things performing synchronized swimming within milk to be aesthetically pleasing, nor do I Google the cereal because I hope to brush up on my Korean language skills.  Mostly, I Google it because reading comments about how much other peoples’ lives suck now that Oreo O’s has been discontinued makes me feel better about myself.

So you can only imagine how I felt when Internet searches began yielding strange and life-changing news earlier this summer.  According to the bastion of all things verifiable and trusted (Wikipedia) Oreo O’s were going to come back into stores sometime in early August.

Message board and Ask.com chatter — leaked, supposedly, from researchers in the the top secret skunkworks of cereal development known as Post — began appearing on a nightly basis, while videos were uploaded on YouTube to promote the supposed relaunch.

Yet, like that whole 2011 apocalypse deal, the date came and went, and now, nearly two months later, I’m stuck eating regular Oreo’s and regular cereal instead of cereal that tastes like Oreos.

Like I said, life sucks.

Unless you live in Korea, where Oreo O’s are not only available, but apparently making life just totally freaking awesome for anyone lucky enough to get their hands on them. Fortunately, the holy grail of childhood cereal nostalgia and lost Saturday mornings — a box of Oreo O’s — arrived on my doorstep last week.

To a certain extent, I considered myself unworthy as I picked up the blue box with writing entirely in Korean. A serious cereal eater I may consider myself, but it shames me to say I can’t exactly remember if I ever had Oreo O’s before. I probably did at some point during those developmental years known as middle school, but thanks to a diet based almost exclusively around Golden Grahams and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I really can’t remember.

While it certainly detracts from my credibility, my relatively blank slate of completely unrealistic expectations does keep me somewhat objective. At the very least, it keeps me capable of opening the box without hyperventilating and going into cardiac arrest due to sheer excitement.

That sheer excitement kicked into full gear once I opened the box and took a whiff of pure, unadulterated Oreo smell (which I was able to confirm by also opening up a snack pack of Oreos I just so happened to have on hand for testing purposes.) The speckled rings had a solid crunch and cocoa heavy flavor only bolstered by a sweeter vanilla aftertaste which comes along with each bite.

Taking a handful of the rings and chucking them into my mouth, and then stepping back to bite into my actual Oreo, it occurred to be that this might actual be the kind of cereal which civilizations are founded on. Even the marshmallows, at first thought extraneous, have a vanilla flavor not completely dissimilar to Oreo cream, with their soft bite and slightly smooth mouthfeel doing an admirable job at filling in for said Oreo cream. Heck, if I was the kind of disgusting person who chewed up my food and swooshed it around in my mouth, I might even conclude, with authority, that the partially digested Oreo O’s cereal and an actual Oreo were one and the same.

It’s at this point that I begin to develop a midbowl crisis. Realizing this may just be the best single cereal ever constructed by the wheels of food industry, it dawns on me that my life is going to suck once I get through this box and go back to having to eat Oreos and cereal separately.

I pondered moving to Korea, but luckily, the addition of milk to my bowl makes me rethink this location change. Great as it is plain, Oreo O’s is actually just above average in milk. It’s crunchier than I’d like, but mostly, it just fails to transfer its unique cookies and cream properties to the milk, making the end-milk slurp akin to a bellyflop into the kiddie pool.

Does Oreo O’s taste like Oreos? Well, not exactly, but it tastes pretty damn close, as least much closer than Cookie Crisp tastes like an actual chocolate chip cookie or Apple Jacks tastes like an apple. The ironic – and truly heartbreaking – corollary is that both Cookie Crisp and Apple Jacks will never be discontinued, allowed to perpetuate in “kinda sorta but not really” taste equivalence while Oreo O’s may never come back to these golden shores. And that is more depressing than any long, tiring day at the office will ever be.

(Nutrition Facts – 30 grams? – 119kcal, 1.9 grams of fat, 1.3 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 115 milligrams of sodium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 12 grams of sugar, 1.5 grams of protein)

Item: Post Oreo O’s Cereal with Marshmallows (Korea)
Purchased Price: $13.98
Size: 500 grams
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 10 out of 10
Pros: Tastes remarkably like an actual Oreo. Rings have good cocoa flavor and stay crunchy in milk. Chewed up and swooshed around in your mouth, might just be identical to an Oreo (hypothetically speaking) Presumably healthier for me than an actual Oreo. Bridging the cultural gap one one cereal bowl at a time.
Cons: Unverifiable internet rumors that ruin peoples’ lives. Ambiguously gendered white things. Not available in America. Leaves average end-milk. Bellyflopping into the kiddie pool. Feeling crappier about myself than I did before. Not for twisters.

Here at The Impulsive Buy, new ice cream products tend to receive very positive reviews. Häagen-Dazs flavors, in particular, have never received lower than 7 out of 10. I think these scores are perfectly reasonable. Häagen-Dazs routinely comes out with interesting and well-executed new products but, look, when your product’s primary ingredients are sugar and cream, you’re set up for success. It’s just much harder to mess up ice cream than, say, microwaveable dinners, or breakfast sandwiches, or well-constructed lists of three things.

I propose, then, that we hold ice cream to a higher standard by applying what I call the pint test. The premise is simple: Is the ice cream so good that you would sacrifice your health and self-respect to eat a whole pint in one sitting? Häagen-Dazs would be held to an even higher standard since they now sell ice cream in 14-ounce containers, not in full pints (cost-sensitive bastards). Applying the scoring system to them, then, implies that I would hypothetically buy one carton, eat the whole thing, go back to the store, buy another carton, and eat at least 2 more ounces of that one. For this review of three new limited edition Häagen-Dazs flavors, I’ll offer a rating on the classic 1 to 10 scale as well as a “yes” or “no” on the pint test.

Coconut Macaroon

These new products all apparently fall under an international theme of “Small World, Big Flavors,” and this variety is “inspired by centuries-old recipes spanning from Europe & Asia.” I hadn’t realized there was anything particularly exotic about coconut macaroons, but I guess a brand with two made-up but vaguely Scandinavian words as its name has lots of practice in drawing upon the faintest of foreign connections.

Coconut ice cream filled with small bits of coconut macaroons might sound like too much coconut, but I thought they got the flavor just right. Both the cookie bits and the ice cream contributed to the coconuttiness in similarly pleasant parts, with neither ever tasting too strong. The ice cream was rich and buttery, though maybe a little too buttery, and the cookie bits were tasty and they were fluffy, chewy, and plentiful. But the problem was that they were still just bits, and while each bit made me want an actual macaroon more and more, no piece was large enough to satiate that craving. As they say, the sum of the crumbs doesn’t equal the cookie. (No one actually says that, but doesn’t that sound like an excellent proverb, one that might span from Europe & Asia?) In the end, no, I wouldn’t eat a whole pint, though I’d certainly eat a couple scoops before running to the bakery and buying some actual coconut macaroons.

Vanilla Bean Espresso

Now this one, I understand the international association. It’s the Häagen-Dazs take on Italian affogato, with a swirl of espresso mixed into vanilla bean ice cream. The potent vanilla flavor hit first, with an aroma and spice that put regular vanilla ice cream to shame. Arriving second but with no less power, the rich espresso flavor had an intensity that I wouldn’t be able to find at any number of coffeehouses. In fact, I suspect people who don’t regularly drink espresso may actually find the vanilla bean espresso ice cream to be too strong for their liking. It’s also somewhat less sweet than regular vanilla ice cream, so judge that as you will. As for me, yes, I would eat a whole pint, even at the risk of staying up all night from the caffeine. I’ll just use the extra waking hours to catch up with all the reality shows on my DVR. (Do you think Christina Aguilera has a contractual obligation to wear stupid hats on The Voice?)

Spiced Caramel Biscuit

Our final product is inspired by the classic European biscuit, speculoos. I don’t believe I’ve ever had speculoos, but I won’t bother seeking them out at this point because they can’t possibly be as good as this ice cream. The ice cream is smooth (i.e., there’s no caramel swirl) and has a solid caramel taste and scent without being too sweet, which I occasionally find to be a problem with caramel-added desserts. The cinnamon and ginger of the cookie crumbs contributed a real spiciness, and the crumbs’ crunchiness made for some nice textural variety. The most important feature of this ice cream was the presence of both cookie crumbs AND big cookie pieces. The crumbs in each bite momentarily whetted my appetite for cookies, and the cookie pieces in every other bite would immediately satisfy me. I say without any reservations that, yes, I would eat a whole pint. Even if I were lactose intolerant. And about to go on a first date. To see a silent film. In an otherwise empty movie theater. Yes, that good.

Run to the store now and try these new Häagen-Dazs limited edition flavors. Oh, and for the Vanilla Bean Espresso and Spiced Caramel Biscuit, save yourself a trip and just buy two cartons, you’ll want to eat a whole pint.

(Editor’s Note/Disclaimer: The author of this review received these almost-pints for free from the frozen folks at Häagen-Dazs. The Impulsive Buy was not paid for the review and only Jasper got the free ice cream. Lucky bastard. And, so ends the FTC-required disclosure. Now back to your regularly scheduled review.)

(Nutrition Facts – 1/2 cup – Coconut Macaroon – 290 calories, 170 calories from fat, 19 grams of fat, 12 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 75 milligrams of cholesterol, 60 milligrams of sodium, 26 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 23 grams of sugar, and 3 grams of protein. Vanilla Bean Espresso – 260 calories, 140 calories from fat, 15 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams trans fat, 75 milligrams of cholesterol, 45 milligrams of sodium, 28 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 25 grams of sugar, 4 grams of protein. Spiced Caramel Biscuit – 290 calories, 170 calories from fat, 19 grams of fat, 12 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 75 milligrams of cholesterol, 105 milligrams of sodium, 26 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 22 grams of sugar, and 4 grams of protein.)

Other Häagen-Dazs 2012 Limited Edition Flavor reviews:
Junk Food Guy – Coconut Macaroon and Vanilla Bean Espresso
Fish and Spaghetti – Vanilla Bean Espresso and Spiced Caramel Biscuit
Food Review LTD

Item: Häagen-Dazs 2012 Limited Edition Flavors (Coconut Macaroon, Vanilla Bean Espresso, and Spiced Caramel Biscuit)
Price:
Size: 14 ounces
Purchased at: Received for free from Häagen-Dazs
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Coconut Macaroon)
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Vanilla Bean Espresso)
Rating: 10 out of 10 (Spiced Caramel Biscuit)
Pros: Coconut Macaroon had just the right amount of coconut flavor, and cookie bits were fluffy and plentiful. Vanilla Bean Espresso was really intense in both its vanilla and espresso. Spiced Caramel Biscuit had great caramel flavor without being too sweet, and the cookie crumbs AND pieces added spiciness and crunch. Making up believable proverbs. Catching up on my reality TV.
Cons: Coconut Macaroon ice cream may have been a little too buttery, and the cookie bits were too small. Vanilla Bean Espresso may be distractingly strong or not sweet enough for some people. Häagen-Dazs now coming in 14 oz cartons. Häagen and Dazs are made up words. Eating whole pints of ice cream. Lactose intolerance.

I feel sorry for the Starbucks baristas out there who have to deal with complex drink orders from insane customers. They say the customer is always right, but those who order an iced ristretto 5-shot grande with 5/8 decaf, six ice cubes, 2-pumps sugar free caramel, 4-pumps caramel, soy, whole milk, extra whip, 12 Splenda, double cupped, and hand stirred to a temperature of 43 degrees have got to be wrong.

Do they feel like their complex order somehow makes them some kind of Starbucks alchemist?

Or are they trying to impress the people behind them in line with the fact that they know how to order something at Starbucks?

Or do they enjoy being a barista puppeteer, making Starbucks employees do their bidding with their purse strings?

You know what, Starbucks baristas? I’m your break from the batty bastards and bitches who order elaborate beverages, because from now on, when I roll into a Starbucks, I’m only there to either use the restroom, steal napkins, be creepy, or to pick up a pack of your new Starbucks VIA Caramel Iced Coffee, all of which don’t involve you lifting any of your well-worked fingers. I’m your coffee break, your latte lull, your ristretto recess, your half-caf hiatus, your Venti vacation, and your Asian persuasion.

Each packet of Starbucks VIA Caramel Iced Coffee is made up of microgrounded 100 percent natural roasted arabica beans, a little bit of caramel flavor, and cane sugar. This powdery partnership produces a Grande of iced coffee goodness, if you’re willing to do all of the following: measure 16 ounces of water, rip off the packet top, pour the contents of the packet into the 16 ounces of water, and then stir it until the powder dissolves.

Or if you have children, you can dress them up in a green Starbucks apron, tell them you’re “playing Starbucks,” and make them do all the work.

After tearing open a packet of Starbucks VIA Caramel Iced Coffee, it farts out a strong caramel aroma. That caramel aroma is also present after the powder is mixed with water. When I drink it, it starts off with a nice caramel flavor, which quickly gives way to the bitterness of the coffee. However, thanks to the caramel flavoring, I’m finding it much easier to drink than regular Starbucks VIA Iced Coffee, which I usually sweeten with either a little more sugar or chocolate syrup.

I really enjoyed the regular Starbucks VIA Iced Coffee, but I have to say I prefer this caramel version more. Adding a little vanilla soy milk makes it even better, although the caramel iced coffee already has 24 grams of sugar, so adding soy milk gives it a little more. While that may sound sweet, it’s not as sweet as I am for giving Starbucks baristas a quick breve breather from impossible drink orders by not ordering anything and just picking up a 5-pack of Starbucks VIA Caramel Iced Coffee.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/2 packet – 50 calories, 0 grams of fat, 20 milligrams of sodium, 13 grams of carbohydrates, 12 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Starbucks VIA Caramel Iced Coffee
Price: $5.95
Size: 5 pack
Purchased at: Starbucks
Rating: 10 out of 10
Pros: Better tasting and easier to drink than regular Starbuck VIA Iced Coffee. Easy to make. Great with a little vanilla soy milk. Makes a Grande of iced coffee. Cheaper than ordering the same drink from Starbucks. Giving baristas a break from making complex drink orders from douchebags. Nice energy pick-me-up.
Cons: Might have too much sugar for those who care about consuming too much sugar. You have to stir or shake it yourself, unless you have children who can do it for you. Waiting in line behind someone who orders complex Starbucks drinks. At home, you have no access to the Starbucks bar.

OMG! Slumber party time, you guys!

So I was thinking we’d get together, maybe start the evening with the 3½ J’s of awesomeness: Jammies, Jock Jams, and Justin Timberlake pictures ripped from last month’s Tiger Beat! After that we can break out Häagen-Dazs’ Limited Edition Sweet Chai Latte ice cream and re-watch 2ge+ther! Quinn’s not invited. She knows why.

This is going to be absosmurfly fabtacular!

Heather, you’re in charge of scrunchies and also ranch dip for the pizza. Rizzo, we’ll be using your yearbook this time to add commentary and mustaches to the people we currently hate. Tiffany, this is your last chance with the nail polish selection. Orange and coral are not “sort of” the same thing. Veronica, you can bring the TP for Quinn’s house. And Buffy, you bring the funk.

The highlight of the evening is, totally, this chai ice cream I found. That’s really the whole reason I’m inviting you all over. That, and, I need help getting back at Quinn. Did I mention how awesomely sophisticated this ice cream tastes? It’s literally just like that stuff at Starbucks we drink to look mature without having to endure the redonkulous awfulness of coffee, except they turned it into a dessert. If we all share, that’s only like… well it’s not that many calories per person. And we’ll probably get our exercise running away from Quinn’s house afterward anyway. Everybody remember to pack your dark colored clothing but don’t wear it over here because my parents will get suspicious. ‘Kay?

Oh, sorry, wait…

What year is it?

No, I didn’t hit my head, or at least I don’t think I did. I got in this fight with an upside-down garbage can this morning and, well, it’s all a little blurry.

The point here is that Häagen-Dazs Sweet Chai Latte ice cream takes me way back to the days of my youth and the discovery of coffee houses amongst my group of budding intellectual friends who still worshipped boy bands.

We had a new favorite drink every week back then. Mondo always tasted like fruity plastic packaging. Orbitz was creepily chewy. But chai, that was the good stuff, an accessible beverage both imbibed and endorsed by adults, something with real staying power and just as much sugar as the crap we were already drinking.

We were Southern Illinois girls. Most of us had never experienced what Häagen-Dazs refers to as the “distinctive tastes of India”. World Market was still our idea of “exotic”. Tea for us came from little bags marked “Lipton” and was immediately sweetened to within in an inch of its life. Chai lattes felt so familiar and yet so new. The good ones bore definite black tea undertones with the spice range of a good Germanic Christmas cookie and enough milk and sugar to make one wonder if the barista didn’t accidentally dump in heavy cream. I latched onto the stuff and stuck with it through college.

Yesterday, I found myself milling around the freezer section at Ralph’s, amped up on fair trade Tanzanian Jubilee coffee, when suddenly, the ice cream in question practically leapt out at me. There it sat, perched just above my eye level and slightly off-kilter, a cozy mug of freshly blended chai emblazoned across the front. The package was strikingly soft and pretty, with a purple cap instead of the typical Häagen-Dazs red. Next to the ingredients, Häagen-Dazs helpfully included a guide to the tastes I would be experiencing as I ate their product, divided nicely into “top notes” and “finish notes” as if this were a fine wine instead of an ice cream. The absurd, transparent attempt at classiness charmed me even as it harkened back to the darker side of middle school. I had to take it home. It needed a mentor and a hug.

The “top” notes? Basically a spice list: anise, cardamom, cinnamon, and cloves. And the “finish”? “Cream and lingering spice”. Oh Häagen-Dazs, you had me there until “lingering”. Why dance around the term “aftertaste” if you’re going to leave in “lingering”?

In reality, all those flavors combine into one sweet, and yes, creamy layer that isn’t super licorice-like or pumpkin pie spicy or like anything you may be grasping at to complete your analogy, and the aftertaste is kind of just a complex back-porch sun-brewed sweet tea. It’s distinctively chai. If you like your tea with milk, provided your tea isn’t green or fermented, you will probably enjoy both chai lattes and this ice cream approximation. And if you’re drinking non-traditional teas to begin with, you’re probably adventurous enough to try this anyway, unless you’re lactose intolerant in which case I’m sorry I bothered you. You can go back to your Kombucha now.

Eating this ice cream made me realize just how deeply being an adult has managed to crush my once free spirit. I seriously forgot how utterly devoted I once was to this beverage. On winter evenings, chai thawed me out, perked me up, and made Bleak House and the political parts of Anna Karenina bearable.

Yet, somehow, I let that love fade away. Thanks to the cruelties of the real world, coffee’s insidious and unshakable grip has taken over my life. This ice cream, though, threatens to break that stranglehold and lead me back to my old standard. It’s very creamy, very indulgent, very pretty-pretty princess turned haggard queen watching romantic comedies from 1998 with a guinea pig as her only companion. It’s the kind of comfort food people on TLC bizarre-mega-weight-loss-o-rama night specials would refer to as a true friend.

If you’re able to find a pint in your area, I highly recommend diving into it, maybe even stockpiling a few just in the case they mean business with the “limited edition” label. This might finally be the ice cream we’ve all been looking for that turns regrets into happiness. Maybe. Shut up. IT COULD HAPPEN.

(Nutrition Facts – ½ cup – 250 calories, 140 calories from fat, 16 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 80 milligrams of cholesterol, 45 milligrams of sodium, 23 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 21 grams of sugar, 4 grams of protein, 10% calcium, 10% Vitamin A, 0% Vitamin C and 0% iron.)

Item: Häagen-Dazs Limited Edition Sweet Chai Latte
Price: $3.99
Size: 14 ounces
Purchased at: Ralph’s Fresh Fare
Rating: 10 out of 10
Pros: Ranch dip. 2ge+ther. Revenge. Mom’s sweet tea. Package tries adorably hard to appear mature. Ice cream made of real, identifiable ingredients. German Christmas cookie spices. Creaminess. My pet guinea pig.
Cons: Junior high. Time travel tangents. Evil trash cans blocking garage doors I want to open. The cruel realities of adulthood. Contains many more calories than an iced chai latte while accomplishing the same goals. Lactose intolerant sector once again snubbed. Nightmares caused by TLC specials.

Borrowing things from overseas to sell on our shores is a tricky business. As with any translation, we run the risk of not getting it quite right. Like turning the infinitely-watchable E4 series Skins into a show that no one (save for The Parents Television Council who wants to kill it with fire) cares to watch… or transforming the delicioso Mexican corn-cake-style gordita into the well-known and often-devoured Taco Bell Gordita that is basically a taco made with pita bread. How they made the leap to the Middle East by way of Mexico, I have no idea. I guess, to them, foreign food is foreign food. We’re lucky they didn’t try to stuff haggis in there.

The process of repackaging these things for consumption in the United States is clearly an attempt to make them more palatable for Americans, however unrecognizable they become. But it doesn’t explain why Kellogg’s would revise the Belgian waffle for their Eggo brand by making them toaster-sized instead of plate-sized and octagonal instead of round (or square) and calling them “Thick & Fluffy ” waffles. Did they think consumers wouldn’t understand these waffles if they used the word “Belgian”? They’ve been around for 50 years. I think we get it. Semantics aside, what it really comes down to is whether the waffles have deep pockets and taste good. For the most part, they do.

Eggo Thick & Fluffy waffles come in two flavor varieties: Cinnamon Brown Sugar and Original Recipe. The name “Original Recipe” conjures up visions of crispy, golden fried chicken offered by string-tied Southern gentlemen with dubious military origins, yet as a Roscoe’s devotee, I can attest to the fact that fried chicken does pair well with waffles. Maybe this title wasn’t unintentional.

The Original Recipe waffle was exceptional. It has a certain extra something (probably sodium) that makes the waffle taste extra malty. I scoured the ingredients list and didn’t see anything about malt, though, so I could just be imagining it. Maybe my previous experiences with other Belgian fluffy and thick waffles created an expectation for malt flavor.

On the flip side, I was all ready to love the Cinnamon Brown Sugar waffle, being the brown sugar & cinnamon addict that I am, but it was just OK. The flavor just doesn’t “pop.” It’s not super sweet, but it’s also not very cinnamon-y. Blah Sugar. Cinna-Zzzzz. The experience is underwhelming. Way to not be an enabler, Kellogg’s. I’m one step closer to recovery.

Despite the fact that it’s a toaster waffle, I was expecting preparation to be a breeze. Logistically, it is pretty easy. Place in toaster… Toast… The End. But the toasting instructions specify that you may need to use two toasting cycles in order to evenly heat the waffle. That’s far too long for a toaster-based convenience breakfast. I hate double-toasting. It ruins the feeling of relief you experience once the toaster pops up because as soon as it does, you just have to push it back down again and start all over. It’s totally defeating. Bad way to start the day.

Another negative is that even though these are Thicker & Fluffier, they don’t make you feel any fuller — just the opposite. The extra carbs and sugar you ingest in the thicker waffle make you crash faster… and if you double-up on the serving size (eating two waffles instead of one), it just makes things worse.

That’s another thing. The serving size is just one waffle, but the box shows two. WHY MUST YOU TOY WITH MY EMOTIONS, EGGO??? Sorry, that’s the cinnamon brown sugar withdrawal talking.

I appreciate Eggo’s take on Belgian waffles, though the Original Recipe flavor makes a tastier breakfast than the Cinnamon Brown Sugar one. They should try making crépes next… though they’ll probably call them “Eggo Thin & Flat Pancakes.” How gauche.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 waffle/55 grams – Original Recipe – 160 calories, 70 calories from fat, 7 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 3.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1.5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 300 milligrams of sodium, 50 milligrams of potassium, 20 grams of carbohydrates, >1 gram of fiber, 3 grams of sugar, and 4 grams of protein. Cinnamon Brown Sugar – 170 calories, 60 calories from fat, 7 grams of fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 3 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1.5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 270 milligrams of sodium, 50 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, >1 gram of fiber, 9 grams of sugar and 3 grams of protein.)

Item: Kellogg’s Eggo Thick & Fluffy Waffles (Original & Cinnamon Brown Sugar)
Price: $2.00 (on sale)
Size: 11.6 oz
Purchased at: Vons
Rating: 10 out of 10 (Original Recipe)
Rating: 6 out of 10 (Cinnamon Brown Sugar)
Pros: Corn cakes. Southern gentlemen. Invisible malt. Octagons.
Cons: Witch hunts. Haggis. Understanding waffles. Boring me with cinnamon. The long toast. Small serving size.

This year on Black Friday I slept in and ate pie for breakfast. From then until a matinee showing of Harry Potter, I had time to kill, so I embarked upon a ruthless search for my first review topic. My strategy was to go where the crowd most definitely would not be: CVS.

Like all drug stores, CVS isn’t meant for the early, targeted bargain shopper. Drug stores are where the most terrible gifts are born around midnight every Christmas Eve. The Bumpits. The ShamWows. The best of the past year’s late night infomercial onslaught, proudly on display for the non-insomniac market, ready to proclaim, “The only thought I put into this was whether or not it would fit into this mostly mold-free, empty box I found in the basement yesterday. Happy frickin’ holidays!” On the biggest shopping day of the year, however, I saw maybe four or five people in the whole store who didn’t work there and weren’t related to me. It was consumer heaven.

Faced with many horrible convenience food options, some of which might technically be considered “dietary supplements” or “experimental chemical amalgams” rather than “food,” I felt a little like a sacrificial product sampling lamb – an experience I had hoped to stave off at least until my second review. Luckily, I took a last minute jaunt down the candy aisle, where I found all three varieties of Extra Dessert Delights sugar-free gum lined up like shining beacons of hope in the midst of a texture-impaired, corn syrupy storm.

I tore into the mint chocolate chip flavor first. Unwrapping the plastic released a surprising burst of what I would’ve assumed was real mint chocolate ice cream, if I’d kept my eyes closed. Inside, the gum appeared greenish blue and fairly nondescript. No chocolate flecks. No color swirls. No frills whatsoever.

At first chew, the stuff tastes like any other mint gum, but then it gets oddly cold, in this deeply unnatural yet refreshing way. It’s like slightly melted ice cream with a gum base. Given a few seconds of chewing, the chocolate finally kicks in. The whole process is very Willy Wonka. You’ll wonder what the hell is happening in your mouth until gradually you stop caring and settle into the delicious symphony of flavors and disconcerting chilliness (which I have to admit I’d miss had they not cooked up some creepy chemical way to include it). I feel like there’s another obvious joke to be made in correlation with that last statement, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it. Hmm… Oh well.

The strawberry shortcake gum smelled authentic, too. I could definitely perceive the shortcake. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. Go buy a package of shortcakes. Rip it open. Inhale. Now go smell this gum. I’ll wait and then, as your eyes grow wide and you acknowledge the accuracy of my account, I’ll say, “I know, right?”

I found myself suddenly transported back to Midwestern days of yore, picking strawberries right from the patch under the blazing June sun, wearing one of those cute little shirts that tied at the shoulders along with my heart-shaped sunglasses, my hands sticky with berry goop from accidentally grabbing rotten ones.

And – oh God, it’s so cold here! Southern California is broken! On top of that, I decided to hang a decorated glow-in-the-dark skeleton over the heater rather than have the gas turned on. I felt so bold back in the summer when I made that decision. I was tough, damn it – a gritty, blizzard-beaten Illinoisan through and through. But now it is December and I’m very worried about hypothermia. Word on the street is that it is quite the insidious killer.

Oh wait. Sorry. Gum.

The gum basically gave my mouth a brief vacation from reality without ever truly overwhelming my senses. The taste is a bit more muted than the mint chip kind, but pleasant. Mostly I got a sweet real strawberry flavor with hints of something more, but none of the bold shortcake experience promised by the gum’s aroma. I would’ve said this knocked it out of the park had I not just witnessed the spectacular home run blasted into the stratosphere by mint chip. Even so, this definitely manages to clear the wall somewhere far out in right field. It’s fair, people. Cue the fireworks. I wish it were at least April. Can you hear me weather gods? I’m willing to settle!

Finally, we come to my citrusy old friend, key lime pie. On Sunday, my brother-in-law knocked a bunch of limes off the tree in his backyard, prompting some spur-of-the-moment baking. Quite out of the blue, I had the real thing handy for comparison. Yay! The real thing definitely wins. Just putting that out there. I mean, seriously, the only way to make that pie fresher would’ve been to juice the limes straight from the tree, and that just seems unnecessary. On the flip side, this version has five calories. So there’s that.

The gum definitely does taste pie-like, following closely in the footsteps of its excellently rendered neighbors. The flavor is very middle-of-the-road family restaurant key lime pie, harkening back to a particular slice I consumed at the Bonanza in Mt. Vernon, Illinois back in the late nineties. I must say, it’s less daunting as a gum. I was a little leery of the lime flavor becoming monotonous and too sour, because I am a wimp. I’m sorry I ever doubt you, Extra. Please forgive me. It tastes like a Starburst with more longevity and no real sugar. I appreciate that even the pie on the box hasn’t been artificially dyed electric-green… like that pie at Bonanza. I only remember it so vividly because I found an entire old hot dog under my chair that same night. I wonder if that place is still around?

Anyway, you’re done reading now. Go try these gums, especially the choco-minty kind, unless you don’t like mint chocolate or happiness. Extra has blessed us all with holiday-levels of indulgence, minus the added layer of seasonal blubber. Even if you were to blow through a whole pack in one sitting (which I totally considered) that’s still twenty-five calories short of a single Double-Stuf Oreo.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 stick – 5 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 milligrams of sodium, 2 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar, 2 grams of sugar alcohol and 0 grams of protein.)

Other Extra Dessert Delights Gum reviews:
Candygurus
Gum Alert – Mint Chocolate Chip and Key Lime Pie
Grub Grade
Foodette Reviews
Snack Love – Key Lime Pie and Strawberry Shortcake

Item: Extra Dessert Delights Sugar Free Gum (Mint Chocolate Chip, Key Lime Pie, and Strawberry Shortcake)
Price: $1.29
Size: 15 sticks/pack
Purchased at: CVS
Rating: 10 out of 10 (Mint Chocolate Chip)
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Strawberry Shortcake)
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Key Lime Pie)
Pros: Pie for breakfast. Post-apocalyptic shopping situations. The Willy Wonka flavor presentation method. Five calorie desserts. Glow-in-the-dark skeletons. Shortcake. The chill of ice cream without subsequent tongue numbness. Fresh picked limes made into a pie. Starbursts you can chew on forever. Pretty much everything else about the mint chocolate chip variety. Warmth.
Cons: Last minute gifts. Corn syrup storms. The mystery of how it’s possible for gum to stay cold for twenty minutes. Grabbing rotten strawberries. Hypothermia. The shortcake element being a total tease. Most of my trips to Bonanza. Trying to juice a lime without picking it.