REVIEW: Nestle Butterfinger Limited Edition Smokin’ Hot Peanut Butter Cups

Nestle Butterfinger Limited Edition Smokin Hot Peanut Butter Cups

“Spicy” candy bars aren’t exactly a new concept.

In fact, jalapeño and chipotle pepper-flavored chocolates have been around for years, with prestige choco-preneurs like Lindt, Theo, and Taza among the companies pumping out sweet-and-hot fusion treats. Heck, just last year, M&M’s even got in on the action with their L-T-O Chili Nut variation.

The thing is, such products are unlikely to ever be mainstream hits. There are people who love chocolate and there are people who love spicy foods, but there probably aren’t that many people out there who enjoy both concurrently. In a way, “spicy chocolate” is kind of like the reverse Reese’s cup – instead of two distinct tastes harmoniously merging, it represents two distinct tastes waging guerilla warfare on your tongue.

In that, I’m not really sure there is a target audience for something like the “Smoking’ Hot” Butterfinger Cups. It’s not that the product is bad, per se, it’s just that it feels so…uneventful.

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For starters, calling the cups “smokin’ hot” is a huge misnomer. While the cups do indeed have a palpable paprika aftertaste, the overall effect is so mild that you barely get a tingle on your tastebuds. It actually took me a good five seconds before I realized the cups even had the slightest tinge of spiciness. With a delayed gustatory impact like that, you really can’t even use these things for pranks; by the time your unknowing “victim” realizes he or she has fallen for the old switcheroo, they’re likely to finish the whole cup – that is, if they notice the meager paprika kick at all.

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But the lack of spiciness might not be the offering’s biggest core problem. I suppose with a product like this, comparisons to that other, older, and more famous line of peanut butter cups are unavoidable. Although these cups do have a noticeable, traditional Butterfinger taste, the texture seems a bit off. It’s crunchy, but not as crunchy as the standard issue candy bar.

Ultimately, you wind up with a product that tastes more like Reese’s than Butterfinger, which – depending on your perspective – may be a positive or a negative. Alas, considering the word “Butterfinger” is on the packaging, I’m assuming manufacturer Nestle might be leaning more towards the latter than the former.

So what consumer itch are these things supposed to be scratching, precisely? Even if you’re one of the few odd ducks out there who dig spicy chocolates, the cups are probably too mild for your liking, and if you’re just a regular old chocoholic, you’ll probably consider the “spicy” kick either superfluous or flat-out off-putting.

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Some ideas never should’ve made it past the drawing board. And unfortunately, Nestle’s latest L-T-O novelty is one of those marketing misfires that definitely deserves its lukewarm consumer reaction.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup – 120 calories, 60 calories from fat, 7 grams of total fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 60 milligrams of sodium, 12 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 11 grams of sugar and 1 gram of protein.)

Purchased Price: $1.99
Size: 4-pack
Purchased at: Kangaroo
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: The chocolate is pretty tasty. The cups have a semi-noticeable Butterfinger taste. The paprika flavor is unlikely to irritate your sinuses.
Cons: The product isn’t really spicy – at all. It tastes way more like a Reese’s cup than a Butterfinger bar. Realizing it’s only a matter of time until someone releases a spicy guacamole iteration of Almond Joy … or Tabasco Sauce Pop-Tarts.

REVIEW: Hardee’s Carl’s Jr. Baby Back Rib Thickburger

Hardee s Carl s Jr Baby Back Rib Thickburger

When I was a kid, I thought Checkers’/Rally’s Wild West Bacon Cheeseburger was the alpha and omega of fast food sandwiches. With two big hunks of beef, a handful of bacon, melted cheddar, two huge fried onion rings, and a fine slatherin’ of barbecue sauce, how could it not be?

Well, much to my shock and horror, I recently found out that not only has the beloved burger of my youth gone AWOL from the menu, apparently it’s been discontinued for years and years. That makes the latest L-T-O gimmick-burger from Hardee’s/Carl’s Jr. – the all new Baby Back Rib Thickburger – the closest thing you and I will likely ever get to tasting the second semester of my eighth grade year ever again.

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Except this newfangled burger, in many ways, manages to OUTDO my nostalgic recollections of the fabled fast food that once was. For starters, the boneless baby back ribs are downright superb. You get two fairly large riblets atop your patty, and not only are they flavorful and smoky, they’re also plump, juicy and extremely chewy. Not only is the meat delicious for a fast food joint, it would be pretty dang terrific for an actual barbecue restaurant. (And as it turns out, it actually is on loan from a real BBQ place, the Ohio-based Bubba’s-Q Boneless Ribs.)

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The sauce (courtesy of Cattleman’s) is also exquisite, representing a nice mixture of honey barbecue and mesquite flavoring. The fried onion straws are super crispy and – thankfully – neither salty or greasy. And the pickle slices are huge, crunchy and refreshingly tart; rest assured, the vinegary flavor gels incredibly well with the barbecue sauce.

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Oddly enough, the thing that holds the burger back from being a five star fast food classic is the hamburger meat itself. Granted, the charbroiled patty is plumper and thicker than most burger chain fare, but it just doesn’t seem to complement any of the other elements of the sandwich all that well. How about this for a first; a special edition hamburger that would’ve been even better WITHOUT the actual hamburger!

The buns are pretty bland, too, but at least they do a pretty good job of soaking up the barbecue sauce and pickle juice. In hindsight, this is the kind of burger that really would’ve benefitted from anything other than a brioche bun. Man, it would’ve been awesome if it came with a pretzel roll or especially a potato roll instead?

Still, I’ve got no beef with these baby backs. When it comes to fast food barbecue sammiches, you’d be hard pressed to find a better offering out there – and yes, that definitely includes a certain seasonal McDonald’s product that shall remain nameless.

(Nutrition Facts – 980 calories, 450 calories from fat, 50 grams of fat, 15 grams of saturated fat, 110 milligrams of cholesterol, 1,910 milligrams of sodium, 94 grams of carbohydrates, 5 grams of dietary fiber, 34 grams of sugar, and 41 grams of protein..)

Purchased Price: $5.59
Size: 1/4 lb burger (1\3 and 2\3 lb versions also available)
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: The ribs are succulent, chewy and smoky. The sauce is phenomenal. The onion straws and pickles definitely add a lot to the gustatory experience.
Cons: The patty itself is pretty unremarkable. The buns aren’t particularly flavorful. Trying to get through an entire review without making an “I Want My Baby Back” Austin Powers reference.

REVIEW: Taco Bell Loaded Taco Burrito

Taco Bell Loaded Taco Burrito

Remember that old horror movie The Fly? You know, the one where Vincent Price steps inside a teleportation machine but he doesn’t know there’s a fly in there with him so when he comes out of the machine, he turns into a horrible human-fly monster? Well, basically, that’s what Taco Bell’s latest limited time only offering is – except with way more avocado ranch sauce.

I keep trying to think of a more dignified way to describe the Loaded Taco Burrito, but the same sentence keeps popping up in my mind: “uh, guys, this is just a pureed taco wrapped up in a tortilla.” This may very well be the least inspired Taco Bell L-T-O of all time, but does the actual taste of the product offset its astonishing uncreativity?

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First things first, the burrito is BIG. It’s easily twice the girth of the chain’s cheesy bean and rice burrito and it is absolutely stuffed with seasoned beef (really, enough to qualify for a double portion, maybe even a triple load.) The flour tortilla itself also seems larger and more flavorful than the ones the restaurant uses for its rank and file burritos, so that’s a nice touch, too.

As far as the other contents of the Loaded Taco Burrito, we’re primarily working with the all the usual supreme fixins: you’ve got some crispy lettuce in there, some diced tomatoes, some shredded semi-spicy cheese, a hearty dollop of sour cream and a big old squirtin’ of the Bell’s proprietary avocado ranch dressing (although you can always sub that out for one of the chain’s other dressings.) However, I want you to take a real close look at the interior contents of the LTB – notice anything peculiar?

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No, your eyes aren’t fooling you. My local Bell decided to go rogue and replace the advertised crispy red tortilla strips with what is unmistakably – both visually and gustatorily – a regular old crunched up taco shell.

Normally, I would raise a great big stink about such brazen displays of franchisee rebelliousness, but I actually think it works better – conceptually and taste-wise – than it does with the tortilla strips included. And to think, some people say there’s no more ingenuity in the American workplace!

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I hate to close a review by saying something as mundane and nondescriptive as “well, basically, you’re getting what it looks like,” but in the case of the LTB, it really does sorta’ review itself. The taco shell chunks/tortilla strips may be a bit superfluous for some consumers, but you really can’t complain about getting a double – leaning closer to triple – beef burrito.

And you certainly can’t argue about the price point, either – for just $1.50, you’re definitely getting a lot of bang for your buck (and a half, plus applicable state and local taxes.)

(Nutrition Facts – 550 calories, 260 from fat, 29 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 50 milligrams of cholesterol, 1130 milligrams of sodium, 52 grams of carbohydrates, 7 grams of dietary fiber, 4 grams of sugar and 20 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $1.50
Size: N/A
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: It’s basically a double beef burrito at a discounted price. You can have a lot of fun mixing and matching house dressings. It’s definitely a filling little product.
Cons: All in all, it really doesn’t taste that much different from the chain’s other burritos. It’s impossible to eat it without getting seasoned beef juice all over everything. All those nights laying wide awake, wondering how in the hell they’re going to make a Loaded Burrito Taco work.

REVIEW: Arby’s Meat Mountain

Arby's Meat Mountain

Not since the Carl’s Jr. and Hardee’s Most American Thickburger – or maybe that one Pizza Hut variation that had pigs-in-a-blanket as the crust – has there been a fast food offering as audacious as Arby’s Meat Mountain.

So monstrous this tribute to American ingenuity/gluttony that the cashier actually ASKED me if I was serious when I ordered it. In fact, I had to tell her “yes” no less than three times before she rang up the purchase.

You remember those old episodes of Scooby Doo when Shaggy would get the munchies and come marching out of the kitchen with a towering sandwich filled with who-knows-what all the way to the ceiling? Well, that’s pretty much what Meat Mountain is. Underneath one greasy star-cut bun, you get all of the following ingredients: angus beef, cheddar cheese, chicken tenders, corned beef, pepper bacon, pit-smoked ham, roast beef, roast turkey, smoked brisket, and Swiss cheese.

So basically, it’s like eating Noah’s Ark in sandwich form. It’s a 1,000-calories plus behemoth that doesn’t even fit in the company’s stock wrappers – my order came in a wadded up ball of wax paper that, folded out on the table, came out to nearly two feet in length.

In that, I suppose Meat Mountain is more of a limited-time-challenge than a limited-time-offering. You don’t eat it for the pleasurable gustatory sensation, you eat it because it’s a direct threat to your manhood (or womanhood.) One does not simply review Meat Mountain; rather, one seeks to survive it.

Not that it’s a surprise to anybody, but the sandwich is definitely a hassle to eat. It’s so big you really can’t fit your mouth around it without taking out a layer or two of meat first, so you may find yourself tearing chunks of Meat Mountain apart instead of shoveling it down your throat (let’s call that one the velociraptor technique.)

Does the medley of meats come together harmoniously? Not really, but it’s still pretty awesome. It’s not so much the divergent tastes of the product that’s weird as it is the alternating textures. One bite it’s crunchy and a little spicy, the next it’s sinewy and chewy and just a wee bit soggy. That said, getting a mouthful of cow, chicken, pig and turkey all at once does make you feel like a khakis-clad T-Rex, and ultimately, that’s the feeling you’re paying $10 for.

One look at this thing and you’ll know right away whether or not you can handle it. Just one word of caution for all you iron-stomached adventurers out there, who think you’re ready to go napkin to napkin with this mammoth burger: while the sandwich isn’t as oily as you’d expect, it is unbelievably salty, packing a whopping 3,000-plus milligrams of sodium. So be sure you have a cola nearby before tackling this beastly creation – or at the very least, a sizable armada of Arby’s sauces.

(Nutrition Facts – 1,030 calories, 460 calories from fat, 51 grams of total fat, 20 grams of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of trans fat, 225 milligrams of cholesterol, 3,640 milligrams of sodium, 58 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 8 grams of sugars, 87 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $10
Size: N/A
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Being able to eat an entire barnyard in one sitting. The feeling of savory, crispy bacon dancing next to corned beef on your tongue. Dipping your turkey-chicken-beef-ham-bacon sammich into a pool of horseradish-pepper-ketchup-and-honey-mustard sauce and realizing what it’s like to be the king of all existence for a few fleeting seconds.
Cons: EVERYTHING is super-duper-extra-salty. Some of the meats don’t gel together well at all. The look on the cashier’s face when you ask if it comes in a vegan-friendly version.

REVIEW: Little Caesars Smokehouse Pizza

Little Caesars Smokehouse Pizza

It’s surprisingly easy comparing the big four of American pizza chains to the big four of 1980s thrash metal bands. Pizza Hut is Metallica, so that makes Domino’s Megadeth by default. And since Papa John’s is Anthrax (because when both go wrong, they go horribly wrong), that must make Little Caesars the fast food equivalent of Slayer.

And much the same way Slayer has consistently been the heaviest and fastest of those bands, so has Little Caesars been the heaviest and fastest of the pizza pie big four. Seriously, what’s heavier and faster than a HOT-N-READY bacon-wrapped DEEP! DEEP! Dish pizza, anyway?

Well, the newfangled Smokehouse Pizza is pretty much the musical equivalent of Slayer releasing a bluegrass album. On the surface, it doesn’t sound even remotely feasible, but then you realize, “Hey, the instruments may be different, but this stuff is STILL really heavy and fast. Just the way I like it.”

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And yes, this super savory meat-a-palooza pie is pretty spectacular. Little Caesars did not skimp out on the fix-ins, as the cacophony of brisket, bacon, and pulled pork gels incredibly well. The high-quality meat is certainly smoky and savory, and you get an absolute ton of it piled atop your pizza.

While each variety of meat maintains a distinct taste and texture, the medley of flavors blends together nicely. No one meat becomes too dominant on your tastebuds – thanks in no small part to the delicious barbecue sauce base, which does a bang-up job tying everything together.

The mozzarella and Muenster mix, however, was a bit underwhelming. With so much meat on the pie, there really needs to be an extra handful of cheese on this thing, lest the dairy flavorings literally be buried.

Little Caesars Smokehouse Pizza 4

The biggest problem with the pizza, however, has to be the superfluous mesquite seasonings on the crust. Basically, it tastes like BBQ potato chip dust, and moving from a very authentic barbecue flavor to a very synthetic tasting one definitely lessens the experience. It’s also an extremely messy pizza, so be mindful if you decide to tackle this bad boy while wearing your Sunday best.

Still, the Smokehouse Pizza is unique and flavorful enough to warrant at least one taste test. For just $9 you are getting a colossal amount of food, and the overall quality of the meat is likely to surprise you.

Little Caesars Smokehouse Pizza 3

Be forewarned, though: as any veteran BBQ enthusiast will tell you, ingesting enough BBQ sauce-slathered pork and beef in quick intervals CAN put you in nap-mode out of the blue. So just to be on the safe side of things? If you order this pizza, make sure to have a pillow or two handy.

(Nutrition Facts – Not listed on website.)

Purchased Price: $9
Size: Large pizza (8 slices)
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: A very rich and robust smoked barbecue taste. A nice and savory BBQ sauce base. Being so full of brisket you come *this close* to reaching beef enlightenment.
Cons: Nowhere near enough cheese. The artificial BBQ seasonings on the crust are a little off-putting. Trying to ward off the food coma effects about a half hour after eating your last slice.