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.