Kevin, Author at The Impulsive Buy

REVIEW: Starbucks S’mores Frappuccino (Bottled)

April 28, 2015August 12, 2023 Kevin 14 Comments

Grammar check: Is the opposite of “s’more,” “s’mless” or “s’mfewer”? I know it’s a s’mall detail but I want to seem s’mart while I s’mear this product.

The Starbucks S’mores bottled Frappuccino sucks. S’more? How about s’mfewer? (Boom. Got ‘em. High fives all around.)

It’s not totally Starbucks’ fault, though. Let’s deconstruct the drink around the campfire. Theoretically, it’s chocolate, marshmallow and graham cracker flavors in a Frappuccino. The problem begins with the concept of a liquid marshmallow. Take away the context of a fluffy, pillowy, chubby-bunny confection and you’re left with a sickeningly sweet amount of sugar. That’s the overriding flavor here, and it really dominates the entire campfire to the point of grimaces.

Creeping below is a s’mall s’mattering of cinnamon notes, presumably to cover the graham cracker part. It sort of rides along and doesn’t ruin things but also doesn’t help much, like a Muttley to the marshmallow’s Dick Dastardly.

Curiously absent is a strong chocolate element. I found this strange, because Starbucks has previously given us a halfway decent bottled mocha, although a few sips here and there I detected some bitter chocolate flavoring, quickly smoothed over by a wave of dairy. Must’ve s’muggled it in somehow.

The balance is off. The sweetness of the entire thing is cloying and also has some sort of artificial quality that makes the entire drink taste a little bit like milk that has gone bad or something. I don’t know where the coffee flavor is. Yes, they botched the marshmallow part, but the lack of a woody, dry graham cracker taste is also disappointing. No s’miles for this s’melly coffee s’moothie.

There’s an in-store version of the S’mores Frappuccino now and I’m sure it’s better. It’s gotta be better. Please be better.

Here we are, at the end. Dude is strumming Kumbaya on the acoustic, the s’moke is billowing and I’m about to tell us a scary story. The story is about how one time I had to drink a sweet ass s’more. The scariest part is that it cost me almost three bucks. Oh, forget it. I can’t properly picture this drink at a campground… I can, however, picture throwing it into a fire. Sorry, me being s’mug.

(Nutrition Facts – 290 calories, 40 calories from fat, 4.5 grams of fat, 3 grams of saturated fat, 20 milligrams of cholesterol, 140 milligrams of sodium, 53 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 46 grams of sugar, and 9 grams of protein.)

Item: Starbucks S’mores Frappuccino (Bottled)
Purchased Price: $2.79
Size: 13.7 oz bottle
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 1 out of 10
Pros: Helpful reminder to check out the real version at a real life Starbucks. So bad you want to give it a second chance.
Cons: Too sweet. Sweetness kills the entire thing, throws it out of whack. Gross tasting.

REVIEW: Taco Bell Crispy Chicken Chipotle Chickstar

April 9, 2015August 30, 2023 Kevin 16 Comments

Perhaps the worst thing about Taco Bell is ordering.

Are they really going to make me say “Chickstar” out loud? Chickstar. Can I instead order the “crunchy, chewy pentagonal chicken pouch”?

Don’t test me, Taco Bell.

I walked away from that movie Chappie just because I didn’t want to have to say “Chappie” out loud to the box office. You think the branding is cute but it sounds like I’m doing jaw exercises before delivering a high school sports report on the local news. Chi-ck-stahr. Que-sah-ree-toh. Break-fast fail-ures.

The Crispy Chicken Chickstar can slide, though, just this once. It’s pretty good! To start, this sandwich thing is shaped like the Crunchwrap Supreme, so it’s completely inviting comparisons. The first bite is a bit of a shock. “I know the Crunchwrap Supreme. And you, sir, are no Crunchwrap Supreme.”

It lacks the snap of a tortilla shell wedged into each bite, but give it some time–the texture is still dynamic, thanks to the fried chicken fillets. The breading of the two chicken finger-sized pieces is made of tortilla chips and while it doesn’t taste different than most other fast food breading, it has a jagged, harder feel that gives it some substance. The chicken itself is also white and dense, like a U.S. congressman.

The softness of the outer tortilla contrasts nicely with the rough-breaded chicken and that interplay is definitely the star (Chickstar?) of the show. Having no bread, it means the protein is allowed to pop more and it also means there are those delightful bites that consist of folded over flour tortilla. So satisfying. Hold on to the tiny joys in life.

I tried the creamy chipotle version of the Chickstar. The sauce filled in the flavor profile and rounded out the taste a bit, but overall it felt a little anemic with the heat. The grated cheese and lettuce and tomato are even more of an afterthought than usual and remain borderline useless. However, the chicken did a decent job of picking up the slack, like Allen Iverson. Al-hen Thigh-verson? Mmm, Al-hen Thigh-verson.

I know these sound like negative points for the Chickstar, but something about the entire package clicks together. It’s crunchy and soft in the right places and knows how to showcase the novelty of a tortilla chip-breaded chicken. Maybe it’s magic. Maybe it’s black magic. Taco Bell does fold these things into pentagrams. Or are they hexagrams. They added an extra side to the pentagram just like they added a fourth meal to the day! Must be voodoo.

The Chipotle Chickstar is a good item. Taco Bell’s new chicken fillet thing is good. But it cost me four bucks and I can get a couple chicken sandwiches for half that at most fast food restaurants. It even costs more than a Quesarito, and is almost as embarrassing to say.

What does “Chickstar” even mean? Is it a chicken hipster? A poultry constellation? Lady rock star? Debbie Harry? Chrissie Hynde? (Crispy Fried is her Chickstar name). Whatever. I’d pay another dollar just to not say the name out loud in the restaurant. And I’ll throw the cashier another twenty if he wants to go next door and say “One for Chappie” for me.

(Nutrition Facts – 760 calories, 43 grams of fat, 8 grams of saturated fat, 60 milligrams of cholesterol, 1650 milligrams of sodium, 70 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of sugar, 4 grams of fiber, and 25 grams of protein.)

Item: Taco Bell Crispy Chicken Chipotle Chickstar
Purchased Price: $3.99
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Taco Bell
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Nice breading, great texture. Easy to eat, plenty of folded over tortilla.
Cons: Chipotle sauce is a little quiet, bland. Cheese is still Taco Bell cheese. Fairly expensive.

REVIEW: Little Caesars Bacon Wrapped Crust DEEP! DEEP! Dish Pizza

March 17, 2015December 28, 2020 Kevin 12 Comments

Little Caesars Bacon Wrapped Crust DEEP! DEEP! Dish Pizza

That mascot dude can only say one word, right? All these years and Little Caesars just propped this guy up—handicap and all—and let him be the clown prince face of the company.

“Pizza! Pizza!”

Translation: “Please pick up my kids after school. I have to work late tonight.”

“Pizza! Pizza!”

Translation: “Please. I don’t want any more pizza.”

Well, say hello hello to the new Bacon Wrapped Crust Deep! Deep! Dish Pizza. And judging from the amount of pork on this thing, they taught Caesar to say another word. “Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!” That’s eight times, said by four Little Caesar guys, which is enough fellas to be pallbearers at my funeral after I die from bacon-itis (a.k.a. heart disease).

Little Caesars Bacon Wrapped Crust DEEP! DEEP! Dish Pizza Corner

The pizza is a “Detroit style” deep dish with bacon wrapped around the corners and with bacon bits sprinkled on top. I’m not completely sure what Detroit style deep dish is, but if this is any representation, it originated from a Detroit elementary school lunch program.

It’s crazy (like their bread!) that a pizza can be so greasy yet so dry and bready in the middle. But we’re here for the bacon. And the bacon presents a dichotomy. At first bite, the bacon on the crust is not as salty as expected, thus less tasty. It is fairly crispy and adds a slight textural curveball, although it overshadows the existing deep dish crust instead of amplifying it. A few slices in, however, it’s better that the saltiness is turned down a bit as pizza eating is a marathon and not a sprint. It’s so much of a marathon, in fact, that they’re adding it to the Olympics. But the Winter Olympics. Cross country ski a while, shoot a rifle, and then scarf down a personal pan pizza.

Little Caesars Bacon Wrapped Crust DEEP! DEEP! Dish Pizza Top

The bacon bits are similarly bland-ish and while the bacon that lines the crust adds a small amount of smoky flavor, the bits just add grease and a tiny bit of sweetness. To be fair, I’ve seen pictures of other people’s orders and it seems like they spilled way more on my pizza and decided I look like some sort of pork beast that wouldn’t mind. They half-pegged me. I am a pork beast, but I did mind a little bit. The pepperoni did its job fine but frankly it was out-smoked by its meat cousin. A different ingredient could have expanded the flavor dynamics a bit more. This pork beast disapproves.

The difference between this one and the regular non-bacon deep dish pizza is four bucks. You’re probably better off frying some up and placing it on top of the pie yourself for that price. I don’t think the bacon they use is great quality and the promise of a bacon wrapped crust does not enhance the flavors any more than just eating some bacon alongside some cheap pizza. That’s where we’re at, people. I just wrote “a bacon wrapped crust does not enhance…” You bastards. You broke bacon.

The aforementioned elementary school quality does tick off some sort of nostalgia box, though. The spongy dough punctuated with a greasy slick finish of lubricated cheese. Takes me back to pogs, algebra, and reading out loud in class.

Oh, gorsh. Imagine Little Caesar reading out loud in class.

“Kids, turn to page 67 of Animal Farm. Caesar, can you read for us?”

“Pizza! Pizza! Pizza… Pizza? Pizza. Pizza.”

“You can tell Orwell is paralleling the Bolshevik Revolution because of the tone in which Caesar said ‘pizza.’”

Welp, that mascot dude found a job and made a decent living after all. I hope he gets to date Wendy from Wendy’s (the older one, not the little kid). God bless America, America.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 slice – 450 calories, 23 grams of fat, 40 milligrams of cholesterol, and 830 milligrams of sodium.)

Item: Little Caesars Bacon Wrapped Crust DEEP! DEEP! Dish Pizza
Purchased Price: $12
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Little Caesars
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Smoky flavor from bacon comes through a bit. Not prohibitively salty. Comforting as bready pizza.
Cons: Greasy. Bready ass crust. Bacon on pizza is just that, nothing more.

REVIEW: Trader Joe’s Sweet Sriracha Uncured Bacon Jerky

February 20, 2015December 28, 2020 Kevin 4 Comments

Trader Joe’s Sweet Sriracha Uncured Bacon Jerky may be a bit of a misnomer.

I’m not completely sure it should be labeled as a jerky. Maybe it falls under the technical definition of “jerky”? Let’s look it up and see. Okay. Jerky. “Characterized by abrupt starts and stops.” Hmmm. I guess so? I guess my jaw was abruptly starting and stopping in a chomping motion. Is that just considered “chewing”?

Anyway, I wanted to point out off the bat that the jerky is wet. It’s probably the “sweet sriracha” glaze or whatever but it’s certainly a surprise when you reach into a factory sealed plastic bag and come out of it with a fistful of wet meat.

Also, I wanted to point out the fact that this jerky is “uncured.” It’s unclear what that officially means but probably something like it wasn’t brined or preserved in a certain way, like most jerkies are. Like if Han Solo in carbonite is “cured” then Tom Hanks sitting in the sun talking to a volleyball for four years is “uncured.” Soylent Green is people. And honestly it would probably be sold at Trader Joe’s.

Why the word police? Well, it’s just that this is basically cooked bacon in a bag. Like, bacon you would take out of the oven at home. Imagine you are a food corporation. Now imagine you try to sell “bacon in a bag.” Forget the internet trend and imagine all the moms and dads in the supermarket scrunching up their faces like, “Bacon is for breakfast and Wendy’s Quadruple Baconators only.” But designate bacon a jerky, and poof, there’s a familiar snack that is entirely meat and everyone eats. So familiar it’s, like, the oldest food ever. Yes, even older than Crystal Pepsi. So, in the name of tradition, go ahead and shove that bacon in your maw.

All this being said, it’s not an unpleasant product. It is wet and sticky at first, but biting into the jerky is fine. It has the texture of some well-cooked bacon on the chewier side. The crisp factor seems to be turned down a bit and there are some pockets of fat. There is a wave of sweetness that dovetails into a bit of heat, and if more than a few pieces are consumed, the spiciness elevates to a nice sharp numbing.

Here’s a riddle: What starts off wet and sticky and ends up meaty and numb? Answer: Trader Joe’s Sweet Sriracha Uncured Bacon Jerky! That’s what this review is about. Nothing else.

While I’m unclear about the jerkization process used here, I can tell you for sure this thing is being sold at jerky prices. It’s almost six bucks for two ounces, whereas the regular beef jerkies cost about five bucks for four ounces. That’s a lot more for a lot less, and knowing that is pretty much the only reason why we all take 12 years of math. Well, at least I took 12 years of Jerky Pricing. I majored in Jerky Pricing! I’m in data entry right now, but I still do Jerky Pricing in the evenings and the weekends.

I think I read the wrong definition of “jerky” in the intro. Here, it’s actually: “foolish, stupid or rude.” Look it up. Here’s a new riddle: What begins with abrupt starts and stops and ends foolish, stupid and rude? It’s this review! Good night, Pigs.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 oz. – 140 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of fat, 3 grams saturated fat, 0 grams trans fat, 15 milligrams of cholesterol, 600 milligrams of sodium, 6 grams of sugar, 6 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 6 grams of protein.)

Item: Trader Joe’s Sweet Sriracha Uncured Bacon Jerky
Purchased Price: $5.49
Size: 2 oz.
Purchased at: Trader Joe’s
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Good texture. Nice elevating spice kick after a base of sweetness.
Cons: Sticky. Seems like just bacon you can make at home. Fairly expensive.

REVIEW: Wendy’s Bacon & Blue on Brioche

February 17, 2015August 25, 2023 Kevin 3 Comments

Wendy’s Bacon & Blue on Brioche boasts big B-word buzz by bundling bankable blends between boring bread and beef.

You know what? Forget this.

Wendy’s used up all the B-related alliteration I can handle. No more B-words for the rest of the review. They are henceforth banished. Oops. Bungled it. Argh, bollocks! How do the Crips do it? They avoid saying words that start with B … Hmm, do Bloods favor Red Robin?

Gang-related fast food questions aside, Wendy’s trotted out the Bacon & Blue on Brioche for us. Knowing Wendy’s history with blue offerings, this seemed like it would be a treat. (I, however, never tried the old Bacon & Blue Burger from five years ago). How did it fare? It’s unique and bold, if not a little bit unbalanced, like a celebrity.

The first B is for bacon, and the strips in this burger definitely delivered on the crispy texture and smoky flavor. The bacon seems to be a popular item here. The person ahead of me in line and the person behind me both ordered Baconators. They then both high-fived over my head and stared me down while shaking their heads slowly.

Which brings me to the second B, the blue cheese flavors. The item sports both blue cheese crumbles and blue cheese aioli, and that might have been too much. The blue cheese combo has a back-of-the-throat coating quality that is interesting and hits immediately upon first bite. While the aioli does a good job of melding the flavors together, the combo also displays a minor, pungent blue cheese stink. This proves to be particularly powerful and overwhelms the flashes of bacon taste. It spins the entire thing a little out of whack, although the occasional balanced bites were pretty decent. The spring mix is slightly bitter and does a very good job of breaking up the monotony.

The beef in my burger was the weak point. Next to the great, pretty flavors of the eponymous “B & B,” the ground beef was mostly flavorless, which is sad because I think the blue cheese’s smooth flavor would’ve shined if consumed with better tasting beef.

Again, there were a few bites that seemed to balance everything well, including the beef, but the planets did not align as much as I would have liked. The third B in the name, brioche, is fine. It’s shiny and has a slight crisp on the outside, which adds a nice textural flair to the entire meal.

This item is definitely not going to have universal appeal and for that fast food version of bravery, Wendy’s gets a high five from me. High five, guys.

Oh, everybody leaving me hanging?

What, nobody else in this Wendy’s is ordering the same thing as me?

I’m not putting it down until someone slaps five with me. I refuse to use a word that starts with B until someone high fives me. See? It’s easy. I could be a Crip. Unless that means I can never go to Red Robin again.

In that case, bye bye, bros.

(Nutrition Facts – 650 calories, 39 grams of fat, 16 grams of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of trans fat, 125 milligrams of cholesterol, 1290 milligrams of sodium, 37 grams of carbohydrates, 6 grams of sugar, 2 grams of fiber, and 34 grams of protein.)

Item: Wendy’s Bacon & Blue on Brioche
Purchased Price: $5.49
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Wendy’s
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Good flavors in some bites. Unique flavors.
Cons: Blue cheese is a little overwhelming. Bacon gets lost. Burger meat flavorless.

Author: Kevin

REVIEW: Starbucks S’mores Frappuccino (Bottled)

REVIEW: Taco Bell Crispy Chicken Chipotle Chickstar

REVIEW: Little Caesars Bacon Wrapped Crust DEEP! DEEP! Dish Pizza

REVIEW: Trader Joe’s Sweet Sriracha Uncured Bacon Jerky

REVIEW: Wendy’s Bacon & Blue on Brioche

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