Reviews

REVIEW: Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars Honey Caramel

Kelley / November 23, 2012 / Reviews / 22 Comments

Hey, guys. Listen. Seriously, listen. I have found a well-kept secret from the Mediterranean that you do not want to miss. I really think it’s going to be the next Big Thing.

I can feel you quivering with anticipation, so I won’t drag it out: it’s Greek yogurt.

Wait, what? Greek yogurt has already gained mainstream popularity and has inundated the country’s supermarket dairy sections? How was I supposed to know that? Okay, well keep listening, because here’s the twist: there’s now Greek frozen yogurt.

Oh, that’s not new either? Where did you hear that? Oh, maybe it was here. Or here. Or here. Or here.

Sigh. The saying is true; there is nothing new under the sun.

But hey, these Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars are different. They’re new! And they’re made by Yoplait! I’ve trusted Yoplait for all my yogurt needs since I was a youth. Plus, they taught me about the silent “t” well before Stephen Colbert came on the scene.

A brief refresher course on Greek yogurt: it is also called strained yogurt, because, um…it’s been strained. Specifically, they squuuuueeeze out the whey, leaving a substance that is thicker than your average yogurt, yet still rich in flavor but lower in sugar and carbs.

Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars also come in Raspberry, Peach, and Strawberry Banana, but I chose the Honey Caramel variety because, in addition to never having tried Greek frozen yogurt, I’ve also never tried anything honey caramel-flavored. In fact, I’ve never even seen anything honey caramel-flavored before this.

Now I’m paranoid that there’s some honey caramel craze out there that I’m not aware of. I’m going to look like a pretty big idiot making fun of Greek yogurt at the beginning of this review when honey caramel has taken over store shelves and I haven’t even noticed. Maybe I’m in the dark, like Winnie the Pooh with his head stuck in the honey pot. Or a beehive. Man, that bear was stupid. I don’t want to be Winnie-the-Pooh stupid.

Right off the bat, the box of Yoplait’s Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars wants to hit me over the head with healthy boasts like “2x the protein of regular frozen yogurt”, “only natural flavors”, and “live and active cultures”.

I’ve always been kind of creeped out by yogurt’s live and active cultures, but I figure it’s better than dead and inactive cultures, or even undead cultures. Oh sure, everyone expects the zombie apocalypse to come from some sort of virus or science experiment gone wrong, but nobody suspects the yogurt.

…Yeah, I’m definitely paranoid.

While I’ve never had frozen Greek yogurt, I have had its refrigerated counterpart, so when I tried the Yoplait Honey Caramel bar, I was expecting the tartness that is the signature of Greek yogurt. I got that tartness, but it was more subtle, and also brought along a good friend – sweetness.

In fact, subtlety seems to be the word of the day for these yogurt bars. It was tart but not too tart and sweet but not cloyingly so. The caramel was delicious but not like eating a giant spoonful of the stuff. There was a hint of honey; that was one flavor that may have been a little too subtle, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

The yogurt was very smooth and creamy, and it held up very well as I ate it. No sticky hands here. I’m assuming the qualities of the yogurt – especially the Greek part – were responsible for it not melting down my hand.

I’m far, far from a health nut, but it’s hard not to notice that the daily value percentages under the nutritional facts are single digits across the board. These yogurt bars are good and good for you! Well, at the very least, they’re not very bad for you.

I find it interesting that all the things I liked the most about Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars Honey Caramel could just as easily be construed as faults by someone with a different palate. “Not sweet enough.” “Not tart enough.” “Not enough caramel.” “Not enough honey flavor.” Oh wait, I actually said that one.

Different strokes for different folks, as they say, and Yoplait stroked me the right way. Wait, that came out wrong. And it rhymed. Four times. You’re lucky you’re so tasty, Honey Caramel Yogurt Bars.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 bar – 90 calories, 15 calories from fat, 1.5 grams of total fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 15 milligrams of cholesterol, 15 milligrams of sodium, 110 milligrams of potassium, 13 grams of total carbohydrates, 12 grams of sugars, 5 grams of protein, and 15% calcium.)

Other Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt reviews:
On Second Scoop

Item: Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars Honey Caramel
Purchased Price: $3.98
Size: 1 box/6 bars
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: Creamy texture with just the right tartness and sweetness. Live and active cultures. Nice caramel taste. No sticky hands. Actually not bad for you. Getting stroked by Yoplait.
Cons: Honey flavor was a little too subtle. The yogurt zombie apocalypse. May not appeal to those who want a sweeter treat with stronger flavor. Committing accidental multiple rhymicide

REVIEW: Burger King Gingerbread Cookie Shake

Jeff / November 20, 2012 / Reviews / 5 Comments

It’s almost holiday/low productivity at work/dealing with annoying parents time.

It’s that time when big band holiday music is played at Crate & Barrel and Banana Republic stores all across the nation to lend that over the top affluence. It’s also that time of year when I relish how bourbon tastes when there’s a chill in the air and that warm feeling in my tummy that follows.

Yet, what I love most about this time of year are the holiday variants of food products that are unleashed. Turkey gravy cough drops, anybody?

Lately I’ve been on a Burger King kick. Partly because BK seems to be one of the few fast foodie joints taking some chances, but, mostly, because BK is within walking distance from my mansion that houses an extensive blazer collection. Also, I can’t drive until my probation is over.

I’m not a big fan of milkshakes, unless it’s a McDonald’s strawberry milkshake. And when I say, “McDonald’s strawberry milkshake,” I mean the vintage version sans whipped cream, the maraschino cherry, and McCafe logo-branded cup. However, as I walked up the curved asphalt in the Burger King drive thru, I couldn’t I pass up what I saw on the backlit menu and in the pictures on the windows? A gingerbread cookie shake.

What came from Burger King’s decked out stainless steel kitchen looked very close to the oversized photos that hung in the window. It was light brown with creamy white swirls throughout the soft serve shake and dolloped with whipped cream and gingerbread cookie crumbles on top. I have no idea what that chemical dairy smell that soft serve exudes, but I’m a fan of it. It’s hard to describe, but when I smell it, I pop a gustation boner.

For a paltry $2.39 (entry fee for the small size) I was given the chance to mentally escape, at least temporarily, the heavy burdens of my ankle bracelet. I straightened my red wool tartan driver’s cap, pressed my button down blue shirt flat with my hands and sat in the booth with determination.

Will I finally tell my wife that I want a divorce because she needs to watch that awful Once Upon A Time show when all I want to do is play Borderlands 2? Will I stand up to the world and tell my probation officer to eat the streets today? Will this be the day my opinion of milkshakes change?

No on all three counts, but allow me to explain.

Great milkshakes have that Goldilocks-like range. Not too watery which makes it like melted ice cream, and not too thick which makes it so hard to suck through a straw that you might as well be performing fellatio. The milkshake I got was perfectly in between.

The gingerbread flavor was at the forefront and it was intense. It was buttery, rich and savory the way excellent gingerbread can be. The cookie bits on the top were a whimsical touch, but also served its purpose to emphasize the gingerbread flavor.
There were notes of musky cloves and cinnamon that played very well with the vanilla soft serve blended in the shake. I could taste hints of ginger, which was nice. I thought it was a possible non-alcoholic liquid holiday drink that could help me deal with the frayed nerves of my family.

As perverted as it sounds, this felt so good going down my throat. For a second I thought, “You know what? Life is going to be all right, buddy.” That neighbor who throws chicken bones on my lawn isn’t so bad; he’s just trying to help me fertilize the grass. And you know what else? When my mother says, “Jeff, you’re an idiot and a mistake, we never wanted you,” it’s her way of motivating me to become a better person.

I love you, Mom.

However, just as I was embracing the complexities of a good ginger cookie, the sweetness of the shake did donuts on my tongue and then monster trucked into some old rusty Pontiacs. My teeth began to hurt from how sweet it was. And Tiger Mom, I hate you! You’re always saying such hurtful things. Why didn’t you give me up for adoption to a Non-Chinese family with no Tiger Moms and unfeeling dads?

Happy Holidays, dammit!

Similar to a tidal wave crashing on shore or your gross uncle who lays a fart in the room, the sweetness takes over everything it can reach its proverbial hands on. Basically it’s as if my taste buds were placed in a sleeper hold and the sugar was shouting in their ears to tap out. “SUBMIT, bitch! Tap out! SUBMIT! You know you want to submit! You don’t have it in you! GIVE UP!”

Even though my experience was slightly ruined by the sweetness of the shake, I kept slurping because that gingerbread flavor was so damn good. However, I did not drink the whole shake because it was pretty decadent. But let me say Burger King’s Gingerbread Cookie Shake is worth a try just for the gingerbread flavor, even though you’ll probably find yourself submitting to the sugar high.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be submitting myself to my regular old brown liquors to get me through another Thank(less)giving.

(Nutrition Facts – small size – 490 calories, 15 grams of fat, 11 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 30 milligrams of cholesterol, 290 milligrams of sodium, 82 grams of carbohydrates, 70 grams of sugar, 8 grams of protein.)

Other Burger King Gingerbread Cookie Shake reviews:
Grub Grade
Man Reviews Food
On Second Scoop

Item: Burger King Gingerbread Cookie Shake
Purchased Price: $2.39
Size: Small
Purchased at: Burger King
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Gingerbread flavor is buttery and savory. Thickness of shake was perfect. Big band holiday music. Crate & Barrel. Musky clove and subtle cinnamon flavors. Gustation boner. Banana Republic. Gingerbread cookie crumbles on the top are a nice addition. Borderlands 2.
Cons: Too sweet. McCafe vs. the old shakes. Too damn sweet. Once Upon A Time. Really, it is so sweet. So sweet, my teeth hurt.

Burger King Fast Food

REVIEW: Pizza Hut Supremo Overstuffed Pizza

Marvo / November 19, 2012 / Reviews / 18 Comments

When I saw the stuff in the Pizza Hut Overstuffed Pizza oozing out of the sides of each slice, I thought they were overstuffed. But when I stuffed the stuff back into a slice of the Overstuffed Pizza, I realized all the stuff equaled to the amount of stuff found on a regular Pizza Hut Pizza. Heck, I believe this entire paragraph is stuffed with more “stuff” and its derivatives than stuff stuffed into Pizza Hut’s Overstuffed Pizza.

The new pizza comes in two varieties — Italian Meat Trio and Supremo. I went with the Supremo because I thought it would be super cool to act like The Fonz by showing two thumbs up, nodding my head repeatedly, and saying, “Ay! Supremo” to my cashier after she thanked me for my business.

Pizza Hut’s Overstuffed Pizza is 14 inches in diameter and cut into six pieces. The Supremo Overstuffed Pizza is filled with cheese, sauce, Italian sausage, onions, bell peppers, and mushrooms. The top crust layer of the pizza I order was liberally sprinkled with shredded parmesan and an Italian seasoning blend. Wait. Did I say, “liberally sprinkled”? I meant to say, “It looked like a McCormick spice and herb factory blew up on top of it.”

As for the inside of the pizza, there’s so much cheese oozing all over the place that it looked as if a brawl broke out at a fondue party and the cheese fountain was knocked over. While there was a lot of cheese, there wasn’t a lot of sauce. I thought those holes on top were made to let the pizza vent while cooking, but, with this pizza’s lack of sauce, they might be the fang marks of drunk vampires who thought the red stuff in my pizza was blood.

But back to the top crust. It had a strong buttery and herby aroma, and a slight crispness which reminded me of the outer shell of Pretzel Bread Lean Pockets. Sadly, it was also crispier than the bottom crust and the edges which were doughy and chewy. Also, even with herb blast on top of the pizza, the crust didn’t have a strong flavor, making the Overstuffed Pizza taste not that much different than a regular Pizza Hut pizza.

After peeling back the top crust, it was hard to make out the onions, peppers, and mushrooms from each other because all three were mostly shriveled and darkened. Fortunately, their condition didn’t take away their flavor. The amount of Italian sausage was plentiful and they provided that familiar greasy, mild spicy goodness found on other Pizza Hut products.

Pizza Hut’s Overstuffed Pizza is not the worst pizza I’ve had, but I don’t taste a significant difference between it and Pizza Hut’s regular pan pizzas. In fact, I think the extra crust slightly dampens the flavors of the sausage, cheese, veggies, and sad amount of sauce. However, the extra crust does a great job at making me full. Just a slice of the Overstuffed Pizza was filling.

Maybe Pizza Hut’s Overstuffed Pizza didn’t get its name from the amount of ingredients stuffed inside of it. Maybe it got its name because eating more than one piece will make you feel overstuffed.

(Nutrition Facts* – 1 slice – 600 calories, 230 calories from fat, 25 grams of fat, 10 grams of saturated fat, 1260 milligrams of sodium, 67 grams of carbohydrates, 4 grams of sugar, and 25 grams of protein.)

*via Brand Eating

Other Pizza Hut Overstuffed Pizza reviews:
Brand Eating

Item: Pizza Hut Supremo Overstuffed Pizza
Purchased Price: $16.99*
Size: Large
Purchased at: Pizza Hut
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Tastes similar to a regular Pizza Hut pizza. Lots of cheese. Eating one slice is filling. Lots of sausage.
Cons: Tastes similar to a regular Pizza Hut pizza. Not at all overstuffed. Top crust looked like a McCormick herb factory blew up on it, but didn’t have a strong flavor. Bottom crust and edges were doughy. Not a lot of sauce. Veggies were shriveled beyond recognition. Fights at fondue parties.

*Because I live on a rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I tend to pay more for stuff. You will probably be able to get it for much cheaper.

Fast Food Pizza Pizza Hut

REVIEW: Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice

Adam / November 16, 2012 / Reviews / 6 Comments

I have to admit I carry a borderline unhealthy obsession with pumpkin pie spice.

I don’t just crave the stuff, I literally carry my obsession with me. As in the little bottle of cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and ginger that never leaves my side this time of year. It goes in my coffee at work, on top of my bagel and cream cheese in the morning, and even in a bag of burnt popcorn already jazzed up with sugar and salt. What can I say, I just crave the stuff.

I’d probably put it on Pringles if I could.

I don’t have to though, because the Pringles man will do it for me. Yessir, having not even cleared the minty taste of my last Pringles purchase, I’ve hit the stooping trifecta by picking up Walmart’s exclusive and limited-time-only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice.

Now if you’re asking yourself what universal need a pumpkin spice-flavored Pringles satisfies, you obviously have not had enough pumpkin spice flavored stuff in your life. Unlike pumpkin spice coffee the Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice won’t burn your upper lip, and unlike pumpkin spice oatmeal and all manner of products with actual pumpkin in them, the crisps aren’t filled with fiber. This is good, because when you eat as much pumpkin as I do, you’ll get too much fiber and then end up farting a lot.

Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice also comes in handy as a conversation piece while waiting in line at Walmart. It allowed me to make small talk with the people around me about all the weird flavors of chips and crisps Walmart sells. However, Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice doesn’t help shield me from the crazy woman in the line next to me who, for some reason, found it necessary to buy 33 Shutes and Ladders games. But moving several lanes over did.

I was fully expecting Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice to, at best, cause me to have an out-of-body snack food experience like I did with the Pringles White Chocolate Peppermint. At worst, I was expecting them to be so dreadfully disgusting that I would pass out and die while eating them on the drive home from Walmart. Amazingly, they weren’t bad. Hell, they are actually pretty good. Much better than dying on the way home from Walmart.

Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice have a slightly orangey hue. There’s no mention of “pumpkin” anything on the ingredient list, so they won’t give you enough vitamin A to allow you to go all night vision the next time you’re playing Ghosts in the Graveyard. But that’s okay, because I rock at that game. Although, I would trade having killer night vision for not farting as much while still getting a pumpkin pie spice fix.

The taste of pumpkin flavor is moderate. Not loud or harsh, yet neither quiet nor lost. I like how the flavor is sweet and not too spicy. I also like how the crisps, for one reason or another, retain enough of that flavor to not make for a disjointed finish with the Pringles-tasting base. With just a pinch of salt, the ratio of sweet-salty is actually in favor of the former, making for a lighter taste than one usually associates with popping the top. For those of you keeping score at home, this was a much better crisp than the Pringles Cinnamon & Sugar.

Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice don’t taste like pumpkin pie, but thanks to real, scientific testing done with actual pumpkin pie spice, I can confirm the crisps do taste like a sweeter version of the classic combination of fall spices. Not only that, but the crisps actually make a nice little dipping vehicle should you have some kind of pumpkin-ey cream cheese or dip concoction nearby.

If nothing else, I believe they provide the first case where Pringles manages to do a really weird sounding limited edition flavor right.

(Nutrition Facts – approx. 15 crisps – 150 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 95 milligrams of sodium, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 2 grams of sugars, and 1 gram of protein.)

Other Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice reviews:
Spoil Your Dinner
Fatguy Food Blog

Item: Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice
Purchased Price: $1.50
Size: 6.38 ounces
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Pleasantly sweet pumpkin pie spice taste. Not harsh nor bitter in the spice department. Salt of the Pringles is restrained. Flavors don’t clash. Making small talk at Walmart. Won’t cause you to fart while enjoying seasonal tastes.
Cons: Spice could be more assertive. Sweetness lacks true depth of brown sugar found in actual pumpkin pie. Doesn’t contain vitamin A (doesn’t actually have pumpkin, either). Love it or hate it Pringles crispness. Possibly opens the door for ill-fated Pringles flavor development.

Chips Pringles

REVIEW: Seaweed Pringles (Thailand)

Steve / November 14, 2012 / Reviews / 5 Comments

When I told people I’d be reviewing Seaweed Pringles this week, they reacted with that mild level of shock and disgust that I think is common when discussing almost any product associated with seaweed.

It’s a silly reaction really, when you consider the unpronounceable chemicals most people ingest in the course of an average day’s worth of meals, or the slurry of anus and pig beaks that go into the universally loved hot dog. I don’t see what all the fuss is about. People eat sushi all the time, yet somehow they allow that seaweed a pass. Divorce it from their beloved California Rolls and people recoil.

Granted it’s algae and when people drift into it at the beach they tend to swim the other way as quickly as possible. But that’s not fair. Have you had a good look at a radish lately? Not exactly going to be calling out to you from the fridge in the middle of the night.

Sure it’s called seaweed, a moniker that couldn’t be more unpalatable, but that’s just a bad name. It’s like Homer Simpson reminded Flanders, “There’s nothing wrong with crabgrass. It just has a bad name, that’s all. Everyone would love it if it had a cute name, like, elf grass.”

The whole thing is just a public relations failing. We all know beef is what’s for dinner and that pork is the other white meat, and people everywhere still can’t hear “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” without recalling fondly the all-singing, all-dancing California Raisins.

The only time seaweed gets represented in the popular culture at all is when someone washes up on a deserted beach somewhere. They roll over on their backs, cough up some sea water, and without fail, have a few requisite seaweed strands tangled about them. It’s shorthand for nearly drowning!

How about renaming seaweed “aqua greens” or “hydro leaves”? We could get Sebastian from The Little Mermaid to sing “Under the Sea” or something. And how far away are we from a Snorks reboot? Kids will be clamoring for seaweed. The stuff will sell itself.

These Seaweed Pringles, imported from Thailand, won’t be doing any damage to seaweed’s reputation, but I don’t think these crisps will be winning the algae any new fans either. For those of you imagining popping the top of the can and being swept away to an exotic seashore on a nosegrope of briny goodness, forget it. The nosegrope is not much different than that of a can of regular Pringles. There is a vague earthiness buried somewhere deep in the Pringles aroma, but when I say vague, I mean I could very well be willfully imagining it.

The same goes for the taste. They are not far off from a stack of regular Pringles. There is some sort of nebulous earthiness lurking somewhere on the tongue, but again, it is very, very subtle. If you were blind-tasting, you might not even notice. I don’t think I would.

I found the salt level to be the most surprising. When I think of seaweed, I think salt. Dried seaweed strips can be pretty powerful. But for these chips, they chose to go the other way completely. Each chip is lightly dusted with a sugary coating, making them much sweeter than one would expect. Sugar is the first component in the breakdown of the seaweed extract in the ingredients list. That sweetness is really their defining taste characteristic.

Essentially what you have here are green Pringles. The minute changes to the standard recipe barely make these worth noticing. They could sell these in the U.S. as a St. Patrick’s Day limited edition. You could say that almost non-existent earthiness was meant to hearken back to old Ireland or a field of shamrocks somewhere. No one would bother to contradict you.

Are these bad? No, not at all. They are just unremarkable. These should have been a seaweedy smack in the face. But they’re just green. A little disappointing. Come on Pringles, if you’re going to do seaweed, do seaweed.

Don’t expect any algae-based Claymation characters anytime soon. We’ve got a long way to go, you guys.

(Nutrition Facts – 17 crisps (25g) – 130 calories, 7 grams of fat, 130 milligrams of sodium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, and 1 gram of protein.)

Other Seaweed Pringles reviews:
Crazy from Kong (video)

Item: Seaweed Pringles (Thailand)
Purchased Price: $6.99
Size: 110 grams
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Green Pringles. St. Patrick’s Day. The Snorks.
Cons: Sugar. Absence of seaweed. The California Raisins.

Chips Pringles Thailand

REVIEW: Yoplait Greek Frozen Yogurt Bars Honey Caramel

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REVIEW: Burger King Gingerbread Cookie Shake

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REVIEW: Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice

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REVIEW: Seaweed Pringles (Thailand)

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