Nestle Crunch Cereal - Better Than Bread

Making a cereal out of some other kind of food seems like a difficult task to me. With limited ingredients, it's tough to make one thing taste like another. It could be the reason why Kellogg's hasn't cranked out a "sausage 'n eggs" cereal yet. Or maybe it's just because everyone knows that's a really, really bad idea.

While on vacation I came across a cereal I hadn't yet encountered. Nestle Crunch Cereal. I didn't have to think twice before grabbing a box. The Nestle Crunch bar is a damn fine chocolate bar and I was dying to see how close to the sun those cereal chefs could fly.

The goal here was not only to make the cereal taste like chocolate, but to give it its namesake crunch as well. For without the chocolate bar's distinct crunch, it would be a failure and you may as well just pour Nestle Quik over top of bread.

The cereal's shape is odd little conjoined balls almost in the shape of a Honeycomb cereal morsel. This did not give me much confidence in how it would feel or taste. But let me tell you. I was wrong.

The chocolate? It's there. Solid chocolate flavour indeed. And the crunch? They nailed it. It couldn't have crunched any better. But there was something else. Something unsavoury. And there it was, in plain Portugeuse, right on the box. How could I have missed it? "com cereais integrais".

Mother-effing whole grain. Hands down the utter downfall of the cereal industry.

Cereal has tasted like garbage ever since they infused whole grain bark and twigs into every mouthful. Until I tasted it again, I'd actually forgotten the reason I stopped buying cereal. And if you've read for a while, you'll know what sort of a cereal maniac I used to be. Maniac. Yeah. I ain't kidding.

I wish I could give two Martini thumbs up to Nestle Crunch cereal. If it weren't for the nine pounds of oak tree in the box, I would. But y'know, if I had wanted an oak tree, I would've bought an oak tree.

Star Trek Cereal - Boldly Going Into My Stomach

Look! Up on the shelf - it's a cereal! It's an advertisement! It's.... Star Trek Limited Edition cereal, from Kellogg's!

As you may or may not know, I'm a cereal fiend, especially when it comes to American cereals. If there's anything I love more than the cereal, it's movie/cereal team-ups.

Way up here in igloo-infested Canada, cereal selection is dismal at best and downright miserable at worst; often the choice between no-name oatmeal, Corn Flakes, or some sort of puffed, half-germinated seed pods with "no added sugar!"

But in the USA there are choices. In the USA there are special cereals. Limited Edition cereals. Cereals like Star Trek, with delicious planet Earth, planet Vulcan, and Delta shield marshmallows that crush gloriously between your teeth.

While vacationing in Ohio, (I know, that doesn't make sense, but it's true) I specifically stopped at a grocery store to see what kinds of awesome breakfast treats I could bring home. I snagged a box of Star Trek cereal for $1.99. In fact, I was so excited, and the box artwork was so excellent, I went back the next day and bought a second box.

The box declares the cereal as a "sweetened oat cereal with marshmallows". But when I dove into the oaty galaxy swirls, I found them to be a less sweet version of plain, ordinary Cheerios. DE-sweetened is a more appropriate description. They certainly weren't bad, but I wouldn't go so far as to say they were sweet.

The marshmallows, however, were fantabulous, as they are apt to be. Like an erect Captain standing strong in the face of space danger, the 'mallows were stiff and crunchy.

Although I found nothing new in this cereal, I still loved it. It was a no-nonsense kind of food. It didn't try to introduce anything special or new. All it did was advertise a great movie, and give your sorry ass self a half-exciting reason to get up in the morning. If only for the marshmallows.

In the end Limited Edition Star Trek cereal has unboldly gone where many cereals have gone before. Into my colon.

Weetabix's New Minibix

Using a skill I mastered in kindergarten, I noticed something different on the store shelves while shopping for cereal recently.

I used to like those "Spot The 10 Differences" type games until I realized what they actually were. Not exactly a test of your intelligence, but rather, an arrogant representation of the illustrator's apparent brilliance. By erasing one extra wrinkle under some crocodile's eye, or adding one extra millimeter to the bloody croc's third eyelash, the illustrator could simultaneously boost his own ego, and make millions of children cry when they could only find 9 of the 10 differences between the two stupid pictures of crocodiles having a picnic. With beavers. On the moon.

But I digress.

What I noticed on the store shelves was something which wasn't there before. It was a yellow box of cereal with the word NEW! splashed boldly in the upper lefthand corner. To be precise it was Weetabix's Minibix Chocolate Crisp cereal.

When I thought back to my early childhood, I recalled eating Weetabix, innocently swallowing its mushy, sogged clumps. I couldn't pinpoint anything particularly terrible about those memories, so I gladly tossed the box into the lop-sided grocery cart.

Mere hours later I was excitedly prying open the box of Minibix. With delicious-looking chocolate chips embedded in each rectangular wedge, I was expecting a delicious cereal treat.

Upon eating the Minibix, my childhood memories of Weetabix almost instantly came flooding back. And they were not good memories. The dripping sog was far worse than I ever recollected. The cereal had turned to pulpy sludge in only a few seconds.

Every now and then my tastebuds danced with delight as chocolate passed over them, but it was not enough. The cereal was a failure. However, as everything and everyone deserves at some point, I gave it a second chance. But even the next day, when I was fully expecting the softness & squishiness, I just couldn't do it. I had to dump the bowl.

Finally, I decided to try the cereal dry. Lots of cereal is eaten dry, as a snack. Some cereal even tastes better dry. Personally, I prefer any cereal marshmallow when it is dry and crunchy. I was hoping this new Weetabix would have some salvation in its dryness.

The rectangles crushed in my mouth, sweet chocolate mixed with a sort of beige blandness of something similar to, but more fragile than corn flakes. It was.... okay.

Thankfully Suz liked it more than I did and the box did not go to waste. However, I will not make the mistake again. Weetabix is simply another cereal to add to my long list of crappy Canadian cereals - which makes shopping for breakfast in the U.S.A. all the more exciting.

You will only find me eating Weetabix in my winter years, feebly mashing the mush between my gums while I cry over my wasted years of youth.

Milk-Quake

As I set the carton heavily onto the table, I watched milk ripples dance through my cereal bowl, not unlike the glass of water in Jurassic Park. I had set it down far too hard. Almost dropped it.

In slow motion I watched as my yellow box of Sugar Crisp tipped over, slowly spilling its golden contents. I thrust my hand out and grabbed the falling box, mid-tumble. Using every one of my puny wrist muscles I righted the Sugar Crisp as quickly as I could.

But I miscalculated.

My overcorrection sent the super delicious golden puffed wheat bouncing off my own face, their collective momentum unstoppable. A four-letter word escaped my lips as I slammed the box onto the table, then carefully guarded it with my open hands. "Dang!"

The milk-quake had been disastrous. Thousands of puffed wheat food bits lay like thousands of dead bodies across my dining room floor. The chair beside me held a veritable bowlful. All of it wasted, mixed with a week's worth of dust as well as hair of the cat and human variety.

I got up from my chair to examine the aftermath. It was worse than I thought. The Sugar Crisp crushed under my feet like crunching snow full of sugar granules. It was difficult to walk without making the mess even worse. The poor cats, thinking it was food, scrambled around trying to gobble it up, much to their disappointment.

When everyone's emotions had calmed, the Department of Cereal Blunders (me) took measurements. Disaster was felt as far away as the living room. Puffed wheat carcasses reached as far as 7' 11" from the epicentre of the the milk-quake.

Ending the saddest day to ever strike cereal land, the clean-up crew spent approximately 8 minutes vaccuming, then sent the Roomba in to finish up with the sugar dust while family members consoled Sugar Bear.

My Cereal Cupboard

This is my cereal cupboard. It contains a variety of delicious breakfast foods that I enjoy eating when I eventually drag my weary ass out of bed, which is usually half an hour too late.

On the top shelf you'll notice such tasty things as Nesquik and Reese Puffs greasy Peanut Butter Cups cereal. No, you’re not crazy. (Well, okay, maybe a little) Those boxes are quite a bit smaller than regular cereal boxes. They are 160 and 165 grams, respectively. They cost one dollar each. A steal considering a 360 gram box of Nesquik costs over $4.

To the left is my Carnation Instant Breakfast. These things are like chocolate candy milkshakes. The only thing better would be cotton candy coated bacon with some super awesome homefries on the side.

On the next shelf is 2 boxes of Boo Berry, one box of Franken Berry. I bought a disgusting number of boxes of the famous Monster Cereals on a trip to the states one fine November.

After eating them for breakfast and for dinner for 3 straight months, and creating my own variation of them, I became sick of them. The eating ceased. Even now their staleness penetrates my tastebuds and repulses my stomach. Yet, for some unknown reason, I refuse to throw them out.

Nestled on top is an emtpy box of Double Chocolate Cookie Crisp. I really should get rid of that one. To the left of those are two of Suz's cereals. They are more the healthy variety, so I don’t touch them.

On the bottom shelf you will find one box of Brown Sugar Mini Wheats and one unopened box of Chocolate Lucky Charms. I'm the founding member of CLCA (Chocolate Lucky Charms Anonymous) and therefore fight my urges without a sponsor. I've restricted my Chocluck intake to the weekend only, and it usually only lasts for one weekend - as 5 bowls is a typical breakfast for me.