If you say Baltimore, I think crab cakes and pit beef. If you say Memphis, I can already smell the BBQ. And if you mention chocolate, I’m transported to Hershey Park and that hokey but lovable chocolate factory ride. Well, unless you’re talking about the chocolate in the new Limited Edition Kellogg’s Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory Chocolatey Almond cereal, in which case, I’d be at a complete loss for association without a little background research.

According to both commenters on this site and the back of the cereal box, it turns out the Colorado-based chocolatier is kind of a big freaking deal. The box sings all kinds of praise for the company, talking up “traditional methods” and “premium ingredients,” while using familiar buzz words like “premier” and “gourmet.” Basically, this is a company billing itself to be the Rolls Royce of chocolate, so you’d think that if they were going to team up with Kellogg’s to craft a chocolate flavored cereal, they might, you know, actually include chocolate in it.

Wrong.

Those of you familiar with Kellogg’s cereal have probably run across “chocolatey” cereals before. Like Special K’s Chocolatey Delight, the Rocky Mountain Chocolatey Almond Cereal feature chocolate-flavored squares that lack the legal definition of what chocolate is — cocoa butter. Made up instead of partially hydrogenated oil, sugar, and something called PGPR, the squares looks like chocolate, but they’re not chocolate.

Sneaky, I know.

But frankly, as long as it tastes like chocolate I don’t care if it’s made out of Brussels sprout powder, I just want something I can pass off as breakfast, but feel like I’m get dessert.

Opening the box up, I’m immediately greeted by an aroma similar to Cocoa Pebbles. There are sweetened corn flakes and what looks like a version of Chocolate Frosted Flakes. Both are well represented, but I’m struck by the sheer amount of the chocolate-but-not-really-chocolate chunks. 

The cocoa-coated flakes taste a lot like those in Chocolate Frosted Flakes, meaning, unfortunately, they taste a lot like corn, sugar, and a wee bit of cocoa powder. They’re fine, I guess, but I find myself more drawn to the golden flakes. There’s a delectable and light honey flavor to them with a touch of malt syrup, making them more interesting than your standard frosted flakes and giving them a crispy but lickable mouthfeel. They reminded me fondly of two of my favorite discontinued cereals, Frosted Flakes Gold and Corn Flakes Touch of Honey.

I considered the flakes to be the high point, because the chocolate is a major disappointment, especially when eaten dry. The squares hardly taste like anything, lacking any richness or even sweetness. If the Rocky Mountains are to represent the pinnacle of chocolate confectionary, this was, I suppose, something produced in Death Valley. 

I didn’t enjoy the cereal very much as a dry snack, but felt it much improved in organic whole milk. Of course, that’s cheating a bit considering most cereal boxes try to goad you into pouring skim milk on your cereal by listing nutrition facts with added skim milk, but if you ask me, you might as well be pouring water on cereal.

Anyways, the cocoa-coated flakes take on a nice malted milk flavor with a smooth taste, while the glazed corn flakes taste of honey and cream. Unfortunately, the “chocolate flavored pieces” still suck. I had hoped they might take on a sort of milk chocolate texture with added milk, but instead they turn into a vaguely cocoa-flavored, marshmallow-type square that tastes like what I assume dehydrated chocolate is like (although, having never gone into outer space myself, I gladly defer to any NASA experts on this matter.)

For good measure and in the interest of fairness I made sure to go back for a bowl in skim milk, finding, as expected, any richness gained from the whole milk to be gone, and the complete spoonful to be lacking.

Aside from being majorly disappointment in the chocolate, the cereal failed to also deliver a punch when it came to the almonds. Sliced small and thin, I suppose they add a nice touch on the cover art, but I didn’t notice them much while eating the cereal both dry and in milk. A damn, damn shame.

Even though the honey-glazed flakes of Kellogg’s Rocky Mountain Chocolate Company Chocolatey Almond Cereal reminded me of two of my favorite discontinued cereals, it’s still a major disappointment. Failing to deliver actual chocolate is bad enough given that the cereal is supposed to represent one of the country’s top artisan chocolatiers, but offering only meager almond and mild cocoa flavor puts it below other Kellogg’s chocolate cereals, like Krave and Frosted Mini-Wheats Chocolate Little Bites.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup – 210 calories, 35 calories from fat, 4 gram of fat, 2 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat*, 0.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 1.5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 200 milligrams of sodium, 90 milligrams of potassium, 42 grams of carbohydrates, 1 grams of fiber, 18 grams of sugar, 3 grams of protein, and some vitamins and minerals.)

*made with partially hydrogenated oil

Item: Kellogg’s Limited Edition Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory Chocolatey Almond Cereal
Purchased Price: $3.49
Size: 11.5 oz. box
Purchased at: Wegman’s
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Delectable and light honey flavored flakes which remind of Frosted Flakes Gold and Corn Flakes Touch of Honey. Really good cocoa flake taste and crunch in whole milk. Limited Edition box to add to the collection. Spending time Googling food additive acronyms and feeling all Bill Nye the Science Guy because of it.
Cons: Fake chocolate tastes nothing like actual chocolate. Almonds get lost in the shuffle. Overall cocoa flavor is weak when eaten dry. Eating cereal in skim milk.

A is for apple. B is for banana. C is for childless woman purchasing alcohol and a box of toddler cereal at the self-checkout, pretending that this is perfectly normal.

Wait, sorry, got that wrong. C is for cereal!

Being the childless woman mentioned above, I questioned my ability to fairly judge Post Sesame Street C is for Cereal. I have no nieces or nephews, and my time around children has been pretty limited in general. To be honest, they make me a little uncomfortable. There’s always something going on with their snot and they ask strange questions that I don’t know how to answer.

After a little thought, though, I realized I do have the mind of a child. I like poop and fart jokes, and I do run into things a lot. I don’t pick my nose in public, but I do occasionally burp out loud, forgetting I’m not at home.

I chose “A is for Apple” over “B is for Banana” (do you “C” what they did there?) partly because I’m not fond of fake banana flavoring and partly because the Cookie Monster is the mascot for that flavor. I get that they’re promoting “healthy” flavors, but dude…Cookie Monster. Cookie cereal. It makes me angry enough that cookies are now a “sometimes food”, but forcing the Cookie Monster to shill bananas is just sad.

Apple gets Elmo as a mascot. I’m cool with Elmo. I’m also going to completely ignore that his voice actor allegedly had sex with underaged boys or whatever. This is about cereal and toddlers and snot. Let’s not drag out any nasty business.

Palate cleanser: the back of Sesame Street Apple shows Elmo trying to catch butterflies. He could not be any happier about it, and the butterflies are happy too, probably because they realize that Elmo’s net is too small to catch any of them, so this is more of a fun outdoor dance party than anything else.

Because there’s a long-standing tradition of kids staring at the back of cereal boxes while they eat their breakfast, there’s some fun activities to occupy a young child’s mind. They are encouraged to count both the butterflies and the X’s and O’s on each butterfly.

These letters were not chosen randomly – Sesame Street Cereal is shaped like X’s and O’s, which I personally find a little puzzling. Why are they limited to the letters that are universally recognized as hugs and kisses? Does Alpha-Bits have a trademark on the rest of the alphabet?

After a quick Google search, I discovered that Alpha-Bits is also a Post product, so what’s the problem, here? Your toddler could be learning how to spell words like “booger” and “poopyhead” with Elmo!

Of course, you could always play tic-tac-toe with your X’s and O’s. I always tie when I play against myself, though.

According to Post’s website, “Sunny days start with Post Sesame Street Cereal: Elmo Apple! It has just-for-toddlers nutrition that moms can feel good about (whole grains, low sugar, and natural colors and flavors), the classic fun of Elmo, and naturally-flavored X’s and O’s that kids will love.”

I guess cloudy and rainy days are out of luck. No Elmo for you.

I was surprised that apple was not actually listed as an ingredient in “Elmo Apple” (which is how Post seems to refer to it everywhere but on the actual cereal box). There’s the presence of always-vague “natural flavor”, but that’s it. While I found this discouraging, the ingredient list as a whole is short and composed of words I can actually pronounce, so moms really can feel good about that. Plus, the list of vitamins and minerals takes up half the side of the box, making my job at the end of this review harder, but making moms feel better knowing their toddler just ate 50 percent of their suggested daily intake of folic acid.

Like any other human being, I first tried A is for Apple by sticking my hand in the box and shoving the dry cereal into my mouth. This did not go well. It tasted like I was eating horse feed. Granted, I’ve never tried horse feed, but I’d imagine this cereal would make a fine substitute.

The best way I could describe the flavor is “grains”. Not grainy, just grains, like if you’d gotten a box of Lucky Charms that had gone horribly wrong somewhere along the assembly line and was completely devoid of marshmallows or any sweetness. There was also a rather prominent, odd bitter taste.

I was so distracted by how blandly healthy the cereal tasted that I forgot for a second that it was supposed to taste like apple. It did not taste like apple. I reached my arms out, struggling to find the apple taste, much like how a toddler reaches up to his mommy when he wants to be picked up. I was able to find a faint taste, a tongue whiff, if you will, of apple, but even that lacked all signs of sweetness.

The box said that one serving for children over the age of four was one cup with ½ cup of fat free milk. I don’t think I’ve ever measured out cereal and milk in my life, but I figured for the sake of the children, I would do it. It made a respectable bowlful. I only had 2% milk on-hand, and I wasn’t willing to commit enough to go buy some watery fat free milk just for this, so…deal.

The milk didn’t really help any. The best I can say is that the cereal stayed surprisingly crunchy in the milk, with only a few soggy pieces. The taste, however, was largely the same – blandly oat-ish, bitter, and with almost zero apple flavor to liven things up.

I may not be a child, but I have vague memories of being one, and I probably would have protested greatly had I been forced to eat Post Sesame Street C is for Cereal A is for Apple. Even the presence of Elmo would not have helped. I understand that it is made to be super healthy for growing little brains and bodies, but bitter oats and no apple flavor are not going to fly for any kid old enough to throw their food off the table.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup – 110 calories, 15 calories from fat, 1.5 grams of 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, 125 milligrams of sodium, 85 milligrams of potassium, 21 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 1 gram of sugar, 18 grams of other carbohydrates, 3 grams of protein, 15% vitamin A, 10% vitamin C, 50% iron, 20% vitamin D, 25% thiamin, 25% riboflavin, 25% niacin, 25% vitamin B6, 50% folic acid, 25% vitamin B12, 10% phosphorus, 8% magnesium, 10% zinc and 4% copper.)

Item: Post Sesame Street C is for Cereal A is for Apple
Purchased Price: $3.19
Size: 10.5 oz. box
Purchased at: Fry’s Foods
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Provides 2/3 of toddler’s daily whole grains. Elmo. Chock full of vitamins and minerals. Outdoor dance parties with butterflies.
Cons: Tastes like grain-and-oat based horse feed. Unpleasant information about the voice of Elmo. Has a distinct bitter flavor. Having to play tic-tac-toe with yourself. Very little apple flavor. Snot.

I’m in college and during the week, I eat copious amounts of fried foods at the dining hall. On the weekends, I consume my body weight in ramen and pizza. Sure, I’ll admit that I’m a little ashamed of falling victim to such a stereotypical college diet, but I decided this past weekend that I could change.

I started by reforming breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Leaving my spot in the all-you-can-eat bacon line, I dared to visit my local supermarket in search of one of these “healthy” cereals which I see advertised so frequently on television. The commercials assured me that by switching to a more hearty cereal, I could lower my cholesterol and receive my recommended daily value of vitamins and minerals.

And so, I found myself walking down the cereal aisle, scanning the shelves for my dream cereal. Cheerios? Too dry. Raisin Bran? Tasteless. Total? Well, that might actu–

OH MY GOD! SCOOBY-DOO! THAT BOX HAS SCOOBY-DOO ON IT!

Yes, I visited the grocery store with the intention of purchasing one of the healthier cereals, but I left with a box of Kellogg’s new Scooby-Doo! cereal. Don’t judge me.

I shouldn’t feel too guilty, though. The box assures me that by eating Scooby-Doo cereal, I’ll receive fifty percent of the daily recommended amount of whole grain. Furthermore, the cereal’s a “good source of vitamin D” and an “excellent source of iron.” I’ll admit that the nutritional content was not what attracted me to this cereal. No sir. It was Scooby’s ridiculous grin. I mean, look at that dog. He obviously loves this cereal so much that his tongue swelled up and can no longer fit inside his mouth. Poor Scooby has macroglossia.

I quickly raced home and cracked open the box, craving some “crispy lightly sweetened vanilla flavored cereal.” The first thing I noticed was the smell. Have you ever opened up a box of graham crackers and taken a whiff? It’s the same kind of experience. There were subtle hints of vanilla in the scent as well.

Pouring the cereal into a bowl, I quickly realized that what I was about to eat looked remarkably similar to dog kibble. The crunchy dog bone shapes definitely resemble what Overlord Bark-Bark III eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. (And yes, that’s the name of my dog.)

But what’s this? No marshmallows? How disappointing! Whenever I purchase a cereal with a cartoon character on the box, I fully expect it to include marshmallows. This is clearly a drawback. That being said, some people might consider the lack of marshmallows to be a good thing. These people need their heads examined.

It was time for the taste test. I’m a firm believer in experiencing a cereal both with and without milk in order to become better acquainted with its full range of flavors.

When consumed dry, Scooby-Doo cereal provides a very satisfying crunch similar in texture to Cap’n Crunch cereal. The flavor is best described as a slight graham cracker taste with hints of that imitation vanilla flavor that’s so commonly found in cereals. Overall, the taste is quite pleasant. Not too sweet, not too overpowering.

Sadly, when milk was added to my bowl, the cereal lost much of its flavor. It didn’t seem as pronounced; the milk masked much of the strong graham cracker taste. However, the crunchiness was in full effect. Rest assured, the milk did not diminish the crunchification one bit.

So what’s the verdict? Honestly, this is not one cereal I would purchase again. Although its dry flavor is satisfying, it clearly loses something when eaten with milk. There are other cereals out there that rock my taste buds with or without milk. Furthermore, it lacks marshmallows and resembles dog kibble. Do you really want to eat something that looks like dog food?

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup (cereal only) – 120 calories, 10 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, 110 milligrams of sodium, 95 milligrams of potassium, 27 grams of total carbohydrates, 3 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugars, and 3 grams of protein.)

Item: Kellogg’s Scooby-Doo! Cereal
Purchased Price: $3.59
Size: 12 oz.
Purchased at: ShopRite
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Macroglossia. No marshmallows. Stays crunchy in milk. Decent dry flavor. Not too sweet.
Cons: Resembles dog kibble. No marshmallows. Loses flavor in milk.

Honey Bunches of Oats are the sweatpants of the cereal world. The comfy ones that you wore just about every day in college/high school that are now kinda faded and torn and orange from that time you put too much bleach in the washer, and your mom keeps telling you to throw them out, but you never will (“We’ve been through too much together!”).

They’re simple, no-fuss, and as basic as they are beloved, and it was with that in mind that I yoinked this shining blue beacon of Bunches from a Target shelf for review.

For the uninitiated, Honey Bunches of Oats is a blend of flakes and oaty clusters that came to the public consciousness in the prime of the late 80s at a time of big hair, cheap lip balm, and Apple computers.

Since then, variations on the classic have surfaced, some for a limited time, and others, sticking around for permanent residence on store shelves. And it seems Post really wants to put a good run for this Greek Honey blend, which holds tight to the classic flakes while replacing the traditional cluster with a not one, but two yogurt-inspired clusters: one uncoated and one coated in palm oil and powdered Greek yogurt cultures, which sounds like a sea monster from a B-level horror flick…

But all fears of being eaten by powdered cultures are pushed aside as, upon breaking open that nitrogen-infused baggie, it smells of sugar, BHT, and confidence.

If this were a car show for Honey Bunches of Oats, this would be the pimped up purple sports car with no muffler, chrome rims, and Superman wheels called the Boom Shacka-Lacka.

Whatever those powdered cultures are, they sure do taste good. Although there’s not much of the trademark sour-cream-like tang I find in real Greek yogurt, the clusters, both coated and uncoated, nail a special fake-vanilla-and-honey sweetness. The coating tastes a bit like a less-sweet Oreo frosting, which is certainly nothing to complain about, but it can get overpowering after a while. The clusters themselves are dense and lovable, even if they’re far too sparse and a little small. They somewhat remind me of amoebas.

I was tickled to find that some of the coated clusters were smooshed. Smooshed clusters are the cereal embodiment of rebellion: the cluster escapee that somehow snuck through factory inspection and made it in. The more smooshed clusters, the better…which makes me think it’d be cool if Post [or any other cereal company, for that matter] composed a cereal called “Mistakes” in which they put all their conjoined/too big/funky looking/otherwise rejected chunks of cereal in one bucket.

I mean, just look at the towering fella on the left: he’s got personality.

But strongly opinionated product development suggestions aside, the flakes remain true to the classic, tasting more of straight sugar than floral honey, and hold a trademark crisp. For cereal analysts, they’re less dense than the flake you’ll find in Smart Start or even Special K, and are quite similar to the flakes in their main competitor, General Mills Honey Nut Clusters. At times, I would argue these flakes are wimpy (and they really show it when put in milk for more than 1 minute and 48 seconds), but, when dry, they taste of crisp honey-wheat shavings and offer a contrast to the denser granola. It makes it easy to eat a whole bag and provides a roller coaster for your teeth, which fills a niche as there’s really a lack of dental-themed roller coasters. Such a shame.

Some days you need to sit on your rump and watch a movie marathon. Other days, you need to whip out the power drill and repair your roof. It is on the latter of these days that you’ll need a breakfast with a lot of energy, and these Honey Bunches have you covered. With 230 calories, 47 grams of carbohydrates, and 13 grams of sugary goodness, you’ll have enough whole-wheat-and-sugar spunk to hammer your roof and probably your neighbor’s as well, so bring out the tool kit and your M.C. Hammer mix tape. It’s hammer time.

On the whole, this cereal’s sweet enough to make an angry raccoon tap dance on the ceiling. For a sweet tooth like mine, that’s a good thing. At the same time, this blend has far too few clusters and lacks the woodsiness provided by the cinnamon/pecans/toasted oats of other bunches that usually sets off that sharp fructose sweetness. I miss that.

But, overall, I have no regrets. Sweetness makes angry raccoons [and me] wanna dance and, at the end of the day, don’t we all need a good dance?

Yes, yes we do. So thank you, Post, for encouraging us to get out and dance.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup/58 g – 230 calories, 30 calories from fat, 3.5 grams of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 160 milligrams of sodium, 140 milligrams of potassium, 47 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of dietary fiber, 13 grams of sugars, and 5 grams of protein.)

Other Honey Bunches of Oats Greek Honey Crunch reviews:
Option Pitch and Waffle Crisp

Item: Post Honey Bunches of Oats Greek Honey Crunch
Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: 15.5 oz. box
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Two types of clusters. Some clusters are smooshed. Yogurt coating tastes close to Oreo frosting. Great for eating dry. Makes angry raccoons dance. Boom Shacka-Lacka. Hammer time.
Cons: Lots of wimpy, crushed flakes. Not enough clusters. Can get too sweet. Holds up poorly in milk. Powdered yogurt cultures eating my brain. A lack of dental-themed roller coasters. Emotional connections to sweatpants.

What would happen if we all suddenly transformed into moose?

Well, aside from getting really huge noses and roaming freely between the Alaska-Canadian border, we would have the opportunity to consume about 9770 calories a day, a diet likely involving some grains seeing as we would no longer have the benefit of opposable thumbs and thus, would be shoveling our long noses into big bags of grains.

If this moose transformation were to happen now, we’d be in luck as a cornucopia of grainy goodies seems to be trundling down the production line of Kellogg’s, Post, and General Mills, all ripe for the tasting. Next in line? Fiber One Chocolate Squares.

This is a curious concept to me. Cereal that consists of chocolate and fiber doesn’t easily connect as one idea in my brain. They seem like two separate identities of cereals: one for Saturday morning cartoons and the other for the rest of the time. The thought of combining them is kind of like getting a six-man toboggan stuck in a tree in the middle of June: it doesn’t quite make sense, but sometimes 1) it doesn’t matter if it makes sense and 2) you just gotta trust that maybe it will over time. So I’m going to trust the General.

Upon pouring out the first handful, the little squares show a hopeful shade of cocoa brown (more specifically, “Russet Tone” in accordance with the paint sample book at Home Depot). They look like the wood chips my dad used to throw in the smoker and seem equally as sturdy, so you could probably reconstruct a full-scale model of the Eiffel Tower with them.

I, unfortunately, don’t have the architectural skills to reconstruct the Eiffel Tower with cereal product, so I ate them instead. On first shovelful, they’ve got a solid crisp. The chocolate is subtle, with the familiar chalky cocoa taste of Nesquik or Ovaltine. A sweeter (corn) bran somethin’ somethin’ comes in at the very end. I had intended for this to be my dessert, but, with its nostalgic powdered-chocolate-milk-and-cereal taste, could imagine it for breakfast. It holds a very delicate flavor. Delicate like antique chandeliers.

Sadly, that delicacy breaks apart when submerged in milk as any the sugary goodness dissolves. It’s like the little grains tried to dress up but then lost their tux and tails on the sidewalk. However, I know there’s a camp of people who love the sensation of cereal milk. If you are one such human, you may find you enjoy this in milk as its sturdy bran stands up for a good amount of time. The cocoa, however, still isn’t very strong, so the milk doesn’t taste so much of cocoa as it does of corn bran pulp. I’ll allow you to decipher for yourself whether you wish to embark on such an eating experience.

With Cocoa Krispies and Cocoa Puffs currently dominating the chocolate cereal market, the square is a welcome variation from the dominant geometrical experience of the most popular chocolate cereals. It broadens my mind to ask: what else could this cereal be? Would it make for a good ice cream topper? Or a pie crust? Or perhaps the medium for an installation piece at the MoMA? Imagine the possibilities.

You can be whatever you wanna be, little square (positive reinforcement).

My college roommate used to tell me to start my New Year’s Resolutions on solid knees. I’m not quite sure what that means, but I have a feeling that the 40 percent of the calcium provided within this box of chocolate squares will keep my knees in-check. Plus, they’ve got fiber and don’t taste like vitamins and minerals. That’s a hurdle and they’ve crossed it in well my book.

On the whole, while not spectacular, these were good for munching. I had hope for a deeper, more woodsy cocoa flavor, but, hey, let me not go all catawampus over my own nit-picky preferences. I enjoyed this enough. Is it the best chocolate cereal? Not for me, but it does provide something pretty innovative and pretty tasty and that’s pretty good for today.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cup – 80 calories, 10 calories from fat 1 gram of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 0 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 130 milligrams of sodium, 105 milligrams of potassium, 25 grams of carbohydrates, 9 grams of fiber, 5 grams of sugar, 11 grams of other carbohydrates, 1 gram of protein.)

Other Fiber One 80 Calories Chocolate Squares Cereal reviews:
Option Pitch and Waffle Crisp
Serious Eats

Item: Fiber One 80 Calories Chocolate Squares Cereal
Purchased Price: $2.97 (on sale)
Size: 11.75 ounce box
Purchased at: Harris Teeter
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Good size. Solid structure. Cocoa flavor. Doesn’t taste like vitamins and minerals. Lots of calcium. Solid knees. Antique chandeliers. Turning into a moose.
Cons: Cocoa flavor too delicate. Not much better in milk. Corn bran pulp. Getting a toboggan stuck in a tree. Not being equipped with architectural skills.

Juggler of Flaming Batons.

Academy Awards Ballot Counter.

Crayon Namer.

These were some of the 18 career paths I pursued in the summer of 2001. In order to meet the social and physical demands of said paths, I needed a good breakfast and, in accordance to my own priorities of nutrition, oats and sugar fit the bill, which is why I consumed a mix of Honey Nut Cheerios and Frosted Flakes for three weeks straight while tossing five batons in the air and thinking up crayon monikers like “Ghostbuster Slime.”

While I may not be a baton flame thrower, I haven’t forgotten that morning cereal blend, and thus, it came to my surprise, nostalgia, and anticipatory glee to discover this new Honey Nut Cheerios Medley Crunch which promises not only a blend of O’s and sugary flakes, but clusters as well.

Let’s talk Honey Nut Cheerios: they’re simple. They don’t toss around marshmallows or throw confetti or swing on a trapeze (although it would be cool if they did. Could the people in product development get on that?). Heck, they don’t even taste of honey in that poofy, floral sense, but I’m cool with that. I don’t really want a greenhouse in my cereal bowl.

Tasting more of sugar, oats, and a hint of almond flavor, Honey Nut Cheerios holds a subtlety which makes them just right for anytime consumption, a phenomenon which has garnered them a fan base that deserves its own display at Comic Con. I’ve no doubt that Buzz, that anthropomorphic, sneaker-wearin’ bee, holds the secret recipe that, if revealed, would induce a political scandal all its own. Just look at his face…

It speaks of hidden secrets.

All these qualities make Honey Nut Cheerios versatile, and the greatness of that versatility is only heightened here. The classic O’s form the foundation (about 1/3 of the cereal), and, for all you Honey Nut connoisseurs, I am happy to report that there was no tampering with the formula of the classic O here, holding its trademark sweetness through and through.

The highlight came in the clusters, which are filled with whole oats and crispy thingies and smatterings of almonds. While the almonds don’t always come through, the clusters’ taste really shines in the department of roasted oats and brown sugar, which is a recipe for love if I’ve ever heard one. And did I mention they’re the size of small meteorites?

They add a heft that made me feel strong enough to carry a goat up the side of a mountain, then down the mountain, then maybe on a journey across the Oregon Trail. They are hard-terrain crunchy, requiring the most exercise from my teeth. I imagine crunching into one is akin to the satisfying feeling of accomplishment a beaver feels when s/he has gnawed through an especially tasty oak tree.

The downer about this cereal comes in the flakes, which are flimsy and, when immersed in liquid, dissolve into a brown, lumpy continent of soggy despair. However, I’m of two minds on this because the flakes taste pretty dad-gum good, having a deeper roasty almond flavor than the O’s that makes the regular Honey Nut Cheerios taste even better. What’s a human to do with tasty, yet soggy flakes?! Maybe, if I close my eyes and visualize my happy place, I can ignore the fact that I’m spooning brown, baby-food-esque globs of almond-tasting gloop in my mouth…

Or maybe I’ll just stick with this as a straight-from-the-bag cereal. Unless you’re keen on sog, I might suggest you do the same.

I often find myself in the cereal aisle experiencing the “Oh, I want that and that and that,” phenomenon, which results in a self-imposed peer pressure that amounts in purchasing more cereals than my pantry space permits. This Honey Nut Cheerios Medley Crunch relieves that pressure.

Is this a mountain of honey oozing down from a crunchy exterior of fried dough? No. It’s a cereal mixture, and that’s okay with me. It’s not revolutionary and I wouldn’t necessarily choose it over Cinnamon Roll Frosted Mini Wheats, but it’s a balanced blend that tastes good from the bag, has plenty of clusters, and does something dandy for cholesterol. Sweet, soft, and a little edgy, this is a pleasant rendition of what a cereal mix aspires to be.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cup – 120 calories, 15 calories from fat, 2 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 120 milligrams of sodium, 105 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 2 gram of dietary fiber, 9 grams of sugars, and 3 grams of protein.)

Other Honey Nut Cheerios Medley Crunch reviews:
Serious Eats

Item: General Mills Honey Nut Cheerios Medley Crunch
Purchased Price: $3.59
Size: 13.1 ounces
Purchased at: Harris Teeter
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Crunchy clusters. Huge clusters. Plenty of clusters. Honey Nut Cheerios is still good. Relieves pressure to buy excessive boxes of cereal. Being a crayon namer. Ghostbuster slime.
Cons: Flimsy flakes. Adding milk results in despair. Political scandals. Cannot be a trapeze artist.

Do you know what’s romantic?

Chocolate-covered strawberries.

Awww yeah! You can take one and lightly stroke it on various parts of your lover’s body, letting body heat melt the chocolate, which leaves behind a gooey mess your tongue will have to clean up while your lover eats the juicy strawberry and whatever chocolate didn’t end up on his or her body.

Do you know what also has chocolate and strawberries but is significantly less romantic than chocolate-covered strawberries?

Kellogg’s Limited Edition Special K Chocolatey Strawberry cereal.

Awww yeah! Nothing says the opposite of sensual than scratchy rice and wheat flakes on your lover’s skin. Sure, some of the freeze-dried strawberries look like areolae, but the brittle, dried fruit and firm chocolatey hyphens will have her or him begging for less.

Kellogg’s Limited Edition Special K Chocolatey Strawberry cereal looks special because it’s labeled “limited edition,” but it’s not so remarkable because it’s basically two other Special K cereals mixed together — Special K Red Berries and Special K Chocolatey Delight.

It’s that kind of innovation that makes me look forward to other possible Special K limited edition cereal varieties, like Chocolatey Blueberry Special K or Granola, Fruit, Yogurt, Oats & Honey Special K.

If you’re a regular reader of this blog who has been following it since it began in 2004, you might remember me saying some harsh things about Special K Red Berries cereal in another review. I probably used profanity and the adjective “junky” when sharing my thoughts about the cereal with freeze-dried strawberries. My issue with the cereal was its fruit, which got horribly soggy within moments of sitting in milk. As for Special K Chocolatey Delight, I gave it a positive review in 2007.

Limited Edition Special K Chocolatey Strawberry cereal had a noticeable chocolatey aroma, but my nose didn’t really detect the strawberries. However, while I was shoveling the cereal into my mouth, my taste buds could mostly taste the strawberries, while the chocolatey pieces were muted.

Freaky Friday!

I last tried Special K Red Berries cereal in 2005 and it seems freeze-dried strawberry technology has improved because the ones in this limited edition cereal didn’t absorb milk as quickly as a National Spelling Bee favorite absorbs a dictionary. As for the chocolatey pieces, they’re solid so there’s no need to worry about them getting milk logged.

In the box I purchased, there were significantly more chocolatey bits than freeze-dried strawberries, but you’re almost guaranteed to get one or the other in each spoonful.

I keep saying “chocolatey” because the chocolatey bits in the cereal aren’t made with real chocolate, like the stuff Hershey bars are made of. They lack what makes real chocolate awesome, like cocoa butter. Instead they’re waxy, less sweet, and they taste Tootsie Roll-ish.

Of course, if Kellogg’s used real chocolate, this cereal wouldn’t have Special K-like nutrition facts. But for what they are, they’re not bad. However, I wish they had a stronger flavor. Heck, the crispy flakes overpower the chocolatey flavor. As for the strawberries they’re more tart than sweet and I enjoyed their flavor, but my box needed a lot more of them.

Special K’s Limited Edition Chocolatey Strawberry Cereal was a bit disappointing and strange. I liked it for what I thought I wouldn’t enjoy and disliked it for what I thought I would love. It’s also not an inventive limited edition cereal variety. So if you’re one of those people who regularly eats all the Special K cereals, this one will probably not seem special to you.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cup – 110 calories, 10 calories from fat, 1 gram of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 0 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 180 milligrams of sodium, 80 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 8 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein, and fortified with vitamins and minerals to make us awesome.)

Item: Kellogg’s Limited Edition Special K Chocolatey Strawberry Cereal
Purchased Price: $3.99 (on sale)
Size: 11 ounce box
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Freeze-dried strawberries don’t absorb milk as quickly as a college kid absorbs alcohol at a frat party. Pleasant strawberry flavor. Feeding the one you love chocolate-covered strawberries.
Cons: It’s basically Special K Chocolatey Delight and Red Berries combined. Weak chocolatey flavor. Needs more strawberry. Cereal ruins romance.

A semi-reliable airplane magazine article recently informed me that Americans munch somewhere around 700 million pounds of peanuts per year, which would theoretically cover the floor of the Grand Canyon.

I don’t know who (Farmer? Intern? The spokes-peanut of Planters?) figured out that statistic, but I’m grateful, not just for the relief of mathematical anxiety I held regarding the square footage required in the peanut-to-Grand Canyon ratio, but also to be enlightened on this high degree of national support for the peanut.

Having served duty in everything from Thai peanut satay to Snickers, the peanut is one noble and versatile legume. It was with this nobility in mind that, at the cusp of my New Year, I decided it my goal to ferry my fair share of this national statistic on peanut ingestion, and what better place to begin than with General Mills’ Peanut Butter Toast Crunch.

No, you’re not having déjà vu (unless that particular “vu” had something to do with me telling you you’re not having déjà vu, which, in that case: you’re having déjà vu! How exciting!). General Mills released a version of this smack-daddy back in 2004, which was soon discontinued.

Despite this seedy past, the squares have returned in what hopes to be a reformulation of their retired counterpart, and, indeed, things are kicking off on the right foot as the reliable Cinnamon Toast Crunch mascot, Wendell, seems to be overseeing all the necessary preparations for this cereal in his underground Toast Lair.

It’s like the Bat Cave, but with industrial strength Hamilton Beach toasters.

Hope seems to stand in the form of redemption, and it is with this in mind that I rip open the bag before me…

Holy frosted mountains majesty submerged in amber waves of grain! These actually taste like peanut butter! Roasted peanut butter! The volcanic puff of peanuts that eschews from this bag literally pulls your hand (if not your full head) straight down into the crunchy carbohydrate squares within. Do not be ashamed of this maneuver.

Each little square has the hint of a salty-sweet balance I so yearn for in a peanut butter while still being just a tinge sweeter than smo-joe peanut butter straight from the jar. This is a good thing as, if there is anything that Steven Spielberg’s cinematic endeavors have taught me over the years, it’s that nearly everyone, even short little extra terrestrials, likes peanut butter a little sweet. I dare say that wobbly little alien friend of a younger Drew Barrymore just might swap his one-note Reese’s Pieces for the nutty, crunchy goodness delivered by Wendell here.

Wendell: encouraging extra terrestrial diplomatic relations.

“Crusty” is not a term that often denotes tasty, but here, crusty is da bomb diggity. What with each little square coming with a generous coating of its peanut-butter-sugar layer, these little squares are crusty as Quint from Jaws in that cool one-eyed, heroic sailor type of way.

As for the shape, they look similar to their Cinnamon Toast kin, which is to say they look like little brown rugs. I was going to say I would cover my flooring with a Peanut Butter Toast Crunch rug, but then I’d walk all over it and that would crush the cereal and then couldn’t eat it and that would make me sad. There is no need for sadness here.

If you’re a milk explorer, I’m happy to say that these did fair in the 8-minute milk test, where they shed their sugar coatings (tears of sorrow) while still sustaining a semi-spoonable structure (yay!). Eventually, however, these do succumb to the inevitable break-apart into the liquid. Oh, how I yearn for a grain that does not dissolve in milk. Where’s an atom re-arranger when you need one?

If you’re feeling like it’s a special day, chocolate or strawberry milk pairs well for spoon-related endeavors. Or better yet, pour mocha in there to ensure a kick-in-the-rear that would provide you drum-bangin’ powers that surpass those of the Energizer bunny even if you’re not musically inclined.

No question: these little reformulated squares charmed the mismatched socks offa’ me. It’s like Christmas returned for an encore. They are a smidge hard to find, but I hold hopes that they will spread soon enough as these are destined to go hand-in-hand in the degree of quality and love I hold for Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch and Reese’s Puffs, which both serve me dutifully on the days that cereal consists of 80 percent of my diet.

(Nutrition Facts – 3/4 cup – 120 calories, 25 calories from fat, 3 grams of fat, 0.5 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 75 mg of potassium, 23 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 8 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Peanut Butter Toast Crunch reviews:
Option Pitch and Waffle Crisp

Item: General Mills Peanut Butter Toast Crunch Cereal
Purchased Price: $2.97 (on sale)
Size: 12 ounce box
Purchased at: Harris Teeter
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: Tastes of peanut butter. Crunchy. Crusty. Encourages extra terrestrial diplomatic relations. A Bat Cave of toasters. One-eyed sailors. Banging a huge drum.
Cons: Not as great in milk. Tough to find. Mathematical anxiety. Too many references to Steven Spielberg.

Of all the eternal questions I often ruminate on, none perplexes me more than that of Apple Jacks’ place in the universe.

Does it, as we insisted in our youthful ignorance of baggy pants and skateboards, taste nothing like an actual apple? Or does the formula of dried apples and apple juice concentrate really harbor in the crisp and sweet taste of fall’s bountiful crop?

I suppose the answer will never truly be arrived at, but thankfully, Kellogg’s latest spinoff of the ever-popular Apple Jacks cereal doesn’t pose such weighty concerns.

Yes, Cinnamon Jacks really does taste like cinnamon, and manages even keeps alive a fine tradition of creepy cereal spokesmen and challenging back-of-the-box games to boot.

Promising a “brown sugar and cinnamon taste,” Cinnamon Jacks consists of “X” or jack shaped red and orange pieces served up by Cinnamon, the Rastafarian bug-eyed mascot first introduced in 2007 as a foil to the creepy Apple-looking guy who adorns boxes of Apple Jacks. Unlike cereals which advertise themselves as good for you and responsible in their stewardship of the environment and all that crap, the back of the box of Cinnamon Jacks doesn’t send me back to sleep in boredom.

That’s not to say it’s filled up by the usual mazes or cartoons. It’s even marginally educational, complete with words games that make me wish I would have picked up the phone and ordered Hooked on Phonics during those days of playing hooky in elementary school.

The cinnamon flavor is the first thing that registers on my taste buds. It quickly migrates its way into the roof of my mouth to somehow permeate into the schnoz cavity, conferring a distinctive if not sophisticated element which manages to traverse its way somewhere between Wrigley’s Cinnamon gum and classic mulling spices.

The jacks are sweet but not cloying, although I don’t really pick up any distinctive brown sugar elements (brown sugar is not listed in the ingredients, either.) Matched up in terms of pure cinnamon sugar addictiveness against everyone’s favorite cinnamon cereal, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Cinnamon Jacks would get clobbered worse than ‘88 Broncos in the Super Bowl. Put up against the likes of cinnamon cereal middleweights like Cinnamon Chex, however, it more than holds its own.

There’s something off with the little jack-shaped pieces though, with their crispy bite yielding to a somewhat disassociated flavor that just doesn’t taste intrinsically yummy to my well-trained cereal taste buds. A quick check of the ingredients lists reveals the culprit: The dreaded whole grain yellow corn flour.

Seriously, what makes companies think that corn and cinnamon work? I may not be up with the latest foodie trends, but I still haven’t seen anyone pour cinnamon and brown sugar on their corn on the cob, while the likes of other corn-based cinnamon cereals, like Cinnamon Honey Comb, have fizzled.

Thankfully there’s enough sweetness and cinnamon flavor to carry me through a dry handful without thinking too much of Kix, but I can’t help but think the little chromosome shapes would taste better and have a heartier crunch if the first ingredient was oat or wheat flour.

For whatever reason, that strange corn flour taste disappears once milk is applied, with the jack pieces transferring their cinnamon sugar sweetness to the end milk while still retaining good flavor in their own mushy right. The end-milk is most excellent; not only drinkable on its own, but added to a morning cup of joe as well.

Cinnamon Jacks isn’t as good as Cinnamon Toast Crunch but that’s okay. It tastes much more like cinnamon than Apple Jacks taste like apples, which is good, because it means that I don’t have to add it to my universal questions to ponder list and can instead go back to wondering about things like how many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop or if Luke Skywalker has a middle name.

(Nutrition Facts – 28 grams – 110 calories, 20 calories from fat, 2 gram of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 125 milligrams of sodium, 45 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 10 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein, and a buttload/cornucopia/smorgasbord of vitamins and minerals, although no calcium.)

Item: Kellogg’s Cinnamon Jacks
Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: 10.7 ounces
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Finger licking cinnamon-sugar coating. Cinnamon flavor is more sophisticated than what you’d expect from a cereal represented by Rastafarian skateboarding cinnamon stick mascot. Drinkable end-milk. Whole grainy goodness. Not having to contemplate whether or not it really tastes like cinnamon.
Cons: Corn flour taste is too assertive and clashes with the sweetness. No actual brown sugar involved. Not very crunchy. No richness. Learning that Luke Skywalker doesn’t have a middle name after all.

There’s really no two ways to say it — I was a total bum in middle school.

An average day consisted of me rolling out of bed five minutes before the bus would come, then proceeding to rest my head on the cozy corner of a freezing school bus window not ten minutes later.

This tour de force of youthful energy would continue throughout the morning, as I alternated between taking nosedives of lethargy into math tests and exercising my homemaking sensibilities by grabbing some shut-eye while baking cookies during Home Ec. By the time science rolled around after lunch, I was usually in the slow swoon of sleep’s grip and considered a safety hazard during frog dissection.

Most people would have blamed it on raging hormones. I blame all of it on a really crappy breakfast that lacked whole grains and fiber. Suffice to say, I had yet to discover the full, focused effects that come with a hearty bowl of Frosted Mini Wheats.

Since that time I’ve grown up. I’ve enjoyed the wheaty layers of Maple Brown Sugar and Blueberry, and I’ve feasted of the mini-chocolate chip and cocoa studded nuggets of Mini-Wheats Little Bites. Somewhere during that span, I actually got somewhat serious about education, and stopped constantly sleepwalking through preparing for my future. All because Kellogg’s finally found a way to deliver 20 percent of my daily intake of fiber in the convenient and yummy innards of a sugar coated biscuit.

So there you go. I’m living proof that there’s at least some truth in advertising with the whole “keep you full, keep you focused” campaign the Kellogg’s people have concocted, although thank God I haven’t actually started attempting to communicate with the little squares of wheat themselves. A Leprechaun or talking Toucan I can accept as real, but when it comes to talking and smiling wheat squares, well, now you’re just proposing nonsense.

When it comes to the new Frosted Mini-Wheats Crunch, we’re really looking at a different character from the existing versions. True, all three Wheat characters may share the same DNA, but like the British speak a totally incomprehensible language to my well trained American ears, this latest Mini Wheat looks and feels like a copy of Quaker Oatmeal Squares or Crunchy Corn Bran more than a true Mini Wheat. I’m okay with that, however, because, incomprehensible as a talking biscuit with arms and legs is, I find the concept much more pleasing than a drugged-up looking Quaker dude.

I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve always preferred snacking on individual biscuits of Mini-Wheats over eating a bowl’s worth in milk. The initial taste of the cereal in this snacking approach is more sweet than “lightly sweet”, with a light brown sugar taste that gets some help from malty backnotes. These backnotes make you appreciate the multigrain elements for what they’re worth, and they do an admirable job at enhancing the biscuit’s wheat and oat taste. However, the biscuits are a bit plain.

The crunch is there though. At least it’s there if you still have teeth, with thankfully I still have despite a steady stream of sugar that my dentist tells me will eventually leave me looking like the grandpa from Rugrats. When you do bite down on a singular biscuit the crunch effect registers more than any other cereal I’m familiar with — including, much to his dismay, I’m sure — any of the Cap’n Crunch varieties.

That’s not to say the crunch makes this a better cereal though, as the essential dilemma of the cereal becomes apparent after a few dry chomps. There’s a substantial and really unprecedented crunch if you choose to go in with full chompers grinding, but in that case, you fail to pick up and savor the slow transition in taste from homey brown sugar to substantial wheat and oat. Furthermore, you tend to pick up more of that corn flour aftertaste which just doesn’t mesh with brown sugar cereals.

Forget about either when it comes to eating the cereal in milk. Losing both its crunchiness and sweetness, the cereal is a total flop once you pour in the milk. The end-milk doesn’t pick up much in the way of brown sugar, while the biscuits don’t take on the glazed mouthful and sugary spike that regular Mini-Wheats do. It tastes about as great as those burnt cookies I made while sleeping through Home Ec.

It’s hard to say this cereal is a disappointment because you’ll probably find yourself finishing the box in no time (much as I did while snacking) but compared to the other Mini-Wheats flavors, it’s on the weaker end of the spectrum. I like the Crunch concept, but it needs help. Different flavors might work better and stand up in the milk, but the brown sugar aspect is a bit boring and one note. Likewise, what’s up with the shrinking boxes? A standard box of Mini-Wheats usually runs between 15-16 ounces, depending on the flavor. But this new variety only comes in a 14-ounce box.

Totally not cool, Mr. Talking new guy Mini Wheat.

How about instead of explaining how all your fiber and whole grains will keep me from flunking out of 7th grade music class, you start explaining why I’m paying more for not just less taste, but less food?

On second thought maybe not.

The last thing I want to do is start talking to my cereal.

(Nutrition Facts – 55 grams – 200 calories, 20 calories from fat, 2 gram of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 140 milligrams of sodium, 150 milligrams of potassium, 44 grams of carbohydrates, 5 grams of fiber, 12 grams of sugar, 6 grams of protein, and a buttload/cornucopia/smorgasbord of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Kellogg’s Frosted Mini-Wheats Crunch Brown Sugar
Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: 14 ounces
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: The crunchiest cereal I’ve ever consumed. Mellow brown sugar taste. Fiber and whole grains to keep me awake during work. High degree of snackability.
Cons: Not as flavorful as previously existing Mini-Wheats flavors. Brown sugar taste gets lost in the crunch effect. Slightly corn bran aftertaste is a head scratcher. Lousy end milk. Honey they shrunk the cereal box. Talking bite sized squares of wheat and oats.

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.

Even though its “Better If Used Before” date WAS August 15, 2002, Apu Nahasapeemapetilon would still put this box of Kellogg’s The Simpsons Homer’s Cinnamon Donut Cereal on the shelf at the Kwik-E-Mart. Although, he would use a pen to change the expiration date so that it would say it doesn’t expire for 90 years.

Like the fear I would have going on a date with a Bouvier sister not named Marge, I was scared of eating this 10-year-old limited edition cereal that apparently wasn’t limited enough because there are still several unopened boxes of it available on eBay.

There’s trepidation on my part because even though it’s sealed in a plastic bag and using 20th century preservatives, I thought I would perhaps get food poisoning like Homer did in season five, episode 13, “Homer and Apu.” It doesn’t take the mind of a Professor Frink or Martin Prince Jr. to know eating old cereal might not be good for the digestive system.

Heck, even Homer looks a little hesitant on the front of the box.

Sure, he looks happy, shedding tears of joy. But if I were to use my below mediocre Photoshop skills on a Mapple MyCube to replace “Mmmm…Donuts” in his thought bubble with “10-year-old cereal! Doh!” his smile becomes a hesitant smirk and his tears of joy become tears of pain.

In order to get the courage to open the box and try the cereal, I had to find my inner Ralph Wiggum and not know better. Once I did that, I ated the cinnamon cereal.

After opening the box and the cereal bag inside it, I was greeted with an aroma that was a combination of cinnamon and cardboard, but mostly cardboard. Although, I could be confusing the cardboard smell with a Moe’s Tavern-like staleness.

After opening the bag, I also thought the cereal would instantly turn into dust, much like the Simpsons family did in the couch gag from season 15, episode two, “My Mother the Carjacker,” but it didn’t. Actually, the cereal looked exactly like it does on the front of the box.

I’ll pause here to let you blurt out to your computer screen whether you think the cereal was still crunchy or soft.

…

If you said the cereal would be crunchy, you’d be as correct as Lisa Simpson at a spelling bee. Yes, it’s amazing what butylated hydroxytoluene can do. Although it was crunchy, I can’t say it was as crunchy as a brand new cereal.

As for its flavor, it reminded me of Apple Jacks…stale, stale Apple Jacks with a stronger cinnamon flavor. I think it’s equal parts Edna Krabappel-stale and Ned Flanders-sweet. I was surprised by how sweet and cinnamon-y the cereal was and I assumed sitting in a box for years would cause all the sugar and cinnamon to settle to the bottom of the bag. But as I ate them straight out of the box, my fingers quickly got covered in sugar and cinnamon. They also have a greasy aftertaste, which could be from the partially hydrogenated soybean oil or the artificial butter flavor listed in the ingredients. Mmmm…artificial butter flavor. The greasiness makes sense since they’re supposed to taste like donuts. However, I assure you this cereal didn’t taste like donuts.

Eating a cereal that expired ten years ago wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. However, when I ate it with milk, the dairy somehow enhanced its staleness. I guess the milk washed away the cinnamon and sugar, which settled at the bottom of my cereal bowl.

I have to admit I’m awfully disappointed about my Limited Edition Kellogg’s The Simpsons Homer’s Cinnamon Donut Cereal experience. I thought after ten years of sitting in a closet somewhere that time, sugar, lack of oxygen, cinnamon, and corn would create something inedible. Instead, it was palatable.

Maybe I should try for a cereal that expired 20 years ago.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup/cereal only – 150 calories, 45 calories from fat, 5 grams of fat, 1 grams of saturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 200 milligrams of sodium, 45 milligrams of potassium, 24 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 9 grams of sugar, 14 grams of other carbohydrates, 2 grams of protein, and a bunch of vitamins and minerals.)

Item: Limited Edition Kellogg’s The Simpsons Homer’s Cinnamon Donut Cereal
Purchased Price: $19.04
Size: 12 ounces
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Still edible. Uses regular sugar and cinnamon. The Simpsons. Full of vitamins and minerals. Paid $5.00 for the cereal.
Cons: Still edible (deep down I wish it wasn’t). Milk makes the cereal taste more stale. Made with partially hydrogenated oil. Greasy aftertaste. Made my fingers a little greasy. Paid $14.04 to ship the cereal.

Somewhere on the edges of the globe, nestled between the marshes of Keebler County and Cascadian Farms, rests the town of General Mills. It is in this land of cuckoo birds and marshmallow balloons that a legend resides.

And his name…

Is Wendell.

He looks like a Wendell, doesn’t he?

What with his half-moon spectacles and rotund little nose, Wendell seems unassuming enough, but don’t be fooled. He has connections with the Keebler elves. He landed in General Mills in 1987 with a single dream: to put toast in a bowl, and, after many long nights beside his magical toaster and a cinnamon-related explosion, he got the recipe for Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Back in 2001, he channeled his Cinnamon cereal craze into the smash hit: “Cinnamon Toast Crunch Milk-N-Cereal Bar.” Now, he’s bringing it home in a smaller, portion-friendly treat.

Judging by the cover, Wendell’s stepped away from his toaster to mix up a hearty batch of “yogurt coating.” No lie: this was the very thing that pulled me in to this bar. As a connoisseur of the yogurt-covered pretzel, I can’t resist a yogurt coating, and, indeed, I was elated when I discovered that a yogurt squiggle accompanied the yogurt-dipped foundation of the bar.

I’m thinking these little crisps were made for lunchtime and would fit snuggly in a lunchbox/briefcase/purse/other portable vessel of preference. The list of ingredients seems a mile long, but, in summary, it involves cinnamon, icing, and gooeyness and, as we all know, those are the ingredients involved in sustaining a happy relationship. Had a disagreement with your spouse? Bake something with cinnamon and, instantly, it smells like somebody loves you. Top that baked good with icing? Well, you can just kick back and watch the magic unfold.

Now, before diving into the texture of this bar, I’d like to step back for a brief moment to define the adjective “chewy.” Quaker has obfuscated (word of the day!) this term with their “Chewy” granola bars for years. If a food is “chewy,” it has a certain pull, being both somewhat firm and somewhat sticky. Caramels are chewy. Taffy is chewy. That yummy nougat in Snickers bars is chewy. Stale rice cereal smooshed with uncooked oats? Not chewy, Quaker, not chewy.

Now, these, on the other hand, actually do have a bit of a chew and are a fair amount denser than their Quaker counterparts, which gets them off to a good start. On first bite, they even have a bit of a crisp, but, in the end, this crisp ended on the note of “Stale Cinnamon Toast Crunch,” which was disappointing for a product that had hopes to bounce me over the heart, stars, horseshoes, clovers, and blue moons. The yogurt coating does its best for what this lacks in texture, but alas, fair Wendell, the faint wisps of cinnamon in your bar are no match for this weak consistency and overwhelming taste of corn syrup.

However, on an up note, these do have a bit of whole grain and there was enough of the yogurt to make me smile at the end, making these treats far better than the imagination-crushing, depression-inducing Quaker “Chewy” Granola bars. Nonetheless, next time I have the Cinnamon-Toast-Crunch craving, I’ll probably reach for the bowl and spoon before I nab a treat.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 bar – 100 calories, 25 calories from fat, 3 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 100 milligrams of sodium, 18 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 8 grams of sugar, less than 1 gram of protein, and a little vitamins and minerals.)

Other Cinnamon Toast Crunch Treats reviews:
Truly Foody

Item: General Mills Cinnamon Toast Crunch Treats
Purchased Price: $2.84 (on sale)
Size: 1 box/6 bars
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Yogurt coating on the base. Yogurt squiggles. Cinnamon. Wendell. A friendly portion. Whole grain. Lunchboxes. The word “Obfuscate.” Half-moon spectacles. A land filled with marshmallow balloons.
Cons: The texture of stale cereal. Corn syrup overpowers cinnamon. Using the word “chewy” incorrectly. Crushers of the imagination.

Ah breakfast. The most important meal of the day if you ask any medical professional, and the fuel that gives athletes around the world the competitive edge when competing in the 2012 Summer Olympics. Team USA, par usual, has been dominating this year’s London Olympics, with golden boy swimmer Michael Phelps taking center stage once again. And what, praytell, fuels Phelps’ dolphin like speed?

Funny you should ask, because according to a Google search, it’s actually three fried egg sandwiches, three chocolate chip pancakes, a five-egg omelette, three buttered and sugared pieces of French Toast, and a bowl of good old fashioned grits. It’s just step one in a 12,000 calorie day feeding frenzy that would make Great White Sharks feel bloated.

Of course, for someone like me, whose most celebrated athletic accomplishment is breaking an eight minute mile, Kellogg’s has introduced 2012 Team USA cereal.

Don’t be fooled by the multicolored loops. This is no Froot Loops knockoff or Apple Jacks wannabe. No, these are red, blue, and yellowish rings of these here United States and its athletic prowess. Taking a look at the Collector’s Edition box, one can’t help be swept up in a mural of amber waves while imagining the sweet, seductive smell of victory over the Russian women’s gymnastics team.

Maybe that’s how the cereal smells in London, but on my couch watching the Olympics, I’m instead struck by the unmistakable smell of slightly cardboardy and artificial vanilla flavor. Clearly, Team USA had a slow surge off the blocks.

But that’s okay, right? I mean, even the Dream Team fights it out with Lithuania, but eventually Coach K gets Kobe, Durant and the boys to lay the hammer down on the road to Gold. That’s it, I figure. The smell is just the pregame warm-ups. Wait ‘till the hand goes down into the box. Then we’ll get down to business.

Or maybe not.

The texture makes about as much of an impact on my taste buds as Nova Scotia makes in the sport of beach volleyball. That’s to say it hardly registers. The dry crunch is virtually nonexistent, while there’s no glazed coating to provide that crisp, Froot Loops-like sweetness. A mediocre and artificial vanilla flavor hovers in the background, but overall, the sweetness seems to lack any pop. I find myself wanting some kind of fat in the ingredient list to crisp up the cereal, and something other than plain old sugar to give the cereal sweetness.

Okay, so we’re clearly falling behind here, but Team USA always rallies. So it’s time to go back for one final try and reach down deep, this time with milk.

Ugh. The results aren’t any better. Milk just turns the already light cereal soggy in a hurry, and not in that good soggy way that Life cereal gets. Little, if any, sweetness is transferred to the milk, and while the vanilla flavor is more pronounced, who has ever bought a Froot Loops-looking cereal for Vanilla flavor, anyway? Michael Phelps, in all his calorie laden breakfast glory, would not approve.

If Team USA cereal was competing in the mythical (but currently patent pending) Cereal Olympics, it wouldn’t even qualify in the prelims. Actually, I’m not sure it would even be allowed to compete. Masquerading as Froot Loops in much the same way that the 2004 U.S. Men’s basketball team masqueraded as the Dream Team, Team USA cereal does American breakfast eaters a disservice. With arguably half the calories per box as Michael Phelps’ breakfast, I think it’s safe to say it’s not the breakfast of champions, and won’t be leading me to athletic glory anytime soon.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup – 110 calories, 5 calories from fat, 0.5 grams of fat, 0 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 25 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of fiber, 9 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein)

Other Kellogg’s 2012 Team USA Cereal reviews:
Time for Cereal

Item: Kellogg’s 2012 Team USA Cereal
Purchased Price: $1.99 (on sale)
Size: 8-ounce box
Purchased at: Weis Markets
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Collector’s Edition Box. Fun Olympic athlete trading cards on the back-of-the-box.Only 110 calories and nine grams of sugar per serving. Decent vanilla flavor in milk. Imagining all the crap I could eat if I had Michael Phelps’ calorie needs.
Cons: More disappointing than the 2004 USA Men’s basketball team. Lacks pop in sweetness. Smells like cardboard. No fruit flavor. Lackluster crunch. Leaves skim milk end-milk that tastes too much like Skim Milk

There’s something a bit surreal about eating breakfast food patterned after an entirely different breakfast food, isn’t there? I don’t want to get overly zen, but it’s like saying, “I enjoy this food enough to want to duplicate its taste, but do you have a slower, less convenient way of eating it?”

We all know cereal is awesome, but you can’t eat it one handed while changing lanes, shifting gears, adjusting the radio, balancing coffee in your lap, and flipping off some moron who’s trying to do too many things at once. And if you can, please cease driving along the PA/NJ border between the hours of 8:30-9:00 every morning.

Nonetheless, Her Majesty’s honorable Captain Horatio Soggybane Crunchley has decided to give it a go, so here we are. If you’re like me, your first thought was, “Did they try to make the pieces look like mini cinnamon rolls? Or will they resemble the jagged Cap’n Crunch bits we all know and some of us love?” The surprising answer is “neither” — these are just little asymmetrical balls, about the size of a Cocoa Puff. No biggie, but it’s slightly puzzling why they didn’t just use the standard CC shape (and for that matter, why they don’t do the same for Peanut Butter Crunch). Either way, it doesn’t impact the taste, and I suppose these are less likely to irritate those with more sensitive palates.

The packaging is fairly typical fare, with the Cap’n holding up a cinnamon roll with wisps of aroma lines that let us know, damn, this fictional drawing of a breakfast pastry smells good. In keeping with the theme, the back has two pictures of a bakery scene, inviting you to find ten differences between them. (I got nine without checking the answers — let me just offer that two of them are such incredibly subtle differences, they make Where’s Waldo look like a child’s search n’ find.) The answer key is on the bottom of the box, though this isn’t clarified anywhere on the package. I guess they figure anyone not smart enough to figure it out isn’t going to be wasting their time with the puzzle anyway.

Continuing on, one side panel boasts the standard nutritional information, the other links to the Cap’n's website, Facebook page, and Twitter account. Maybe I’m just an old fuddy duddy, but I’m not sure I really want to know that the Cap’n's current relationship status is “My life, my love and my lady is the Sea” or what he’s hashtagging these days. Although if Quaker Oats just turns the Twitter feed over to some wiseass intern and lets him run with it, I can see the potential for comedic goodness. “Hey, remember when I met Spider-Man? How freaking stoned was whoever dreamed that up? #FourTwenty” or “Avast, y u no like crunchness, Soggmeister? :( ”

I’m realizing we’re four paragraphs in and I haven’t touched on the flavor, so let’s fix that. As you’d expect, these don’t taste exactly like cinnamon rolls, or much like them at all really. In the movie version, the most they’ll be legally allowed to put on screen will be “loosely inspired by.” But they still taste quite good, as I sit here eating dry pieces out of the box, unable to stop myself from reaching for more. There’s a definite cinnamon flavor, though far subtler than you’d find in an actual cinnamon roll. They’re crunchy but not nearly as much so as regular Cap’n Crunch, possibly due to the shape. And if you were hoping for any kind of a frosting drizzle, keep looking. But the smell, while understated, is sugary and appealing.

You know what cereal they vaguely remind me of? The late, much lamented (by me) Waffle Crisp. The texture is a little different, not quite as hard, but they have the same initial burst of sweetness with a maple syrup-y taste. The major difference is that these (obviously) also feature cinnamon, but again, it’s a lot less intense than you’d expect, nowhere near what you’d get from, say, Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Which, since we’re addressing the elephant in the room, is still the preferred cinnamon-based breakfast cereal, due to being far more aggressive and flakier. In this case at least, baker comes out on top of seaman. And alas, the good captain’s boast that his cereal doesn’t get soggy in milk is about as credible as his tale of once making it with a mermaid.

But don’t let that steer you away from trying Cap’n Crunch’s Cinnamon Roll Crunch. It’s still a good-tasting cereal that’s worth trying at least once. And since it’s almost certainly for a limited time only, once might be all you get, so hoist the mizzenmast and make for the nearest port immediately.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup – 110 calories, 15 calories from fat, 1.5 grams of total fat, 1 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 grams of polyunsaturated fat 0 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 50 milligrams of potassium, 23 grams of total carbohydrates 1 gram of dietary fiber, 12 grams of sugars, 10 grams of other carbohydrates, and 1 gram of protein)

Item: Cap’n Crunch’s Cinnamon Roll Crunch
Purchased Price: $3.79
Size: 10.3 ounces
Purchased at: Giant
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tastes kind of like Waffle Crisp. Back-of-the-box activities that actually make you work. Crunchy, and sweet but not overly so. Successfully resisting a poop deck joke. Good for dry snacking. What I imagine the Cap’n's Twitter feed to be like.
Cons: Less interesting shape than normal CC. Cinnamon taste a little subtle. Gets soggy. Makes you crave an actual cinnamon roll. What the Cap’n's Twitter feed is probably actually like.