Peanut Butter Toast Crunch Reviewed

As the kind of verbose blogger who likes to break every single facet about every single item I put into my belly into painstaking — one might even say, molecular – detail, I’m naturally suspicious of concise, matter-of-fact comments. Like this one:

I’ve got them, they’re good.

The comment came from a well-known cereal expert in his own right, whose five simple words regarding the new Peanut Butter Toast Crunch seemed to hint at a “thank you for stating the obvious” response one would assume only natural when peanut butter combines with one of the world’s greatest cereals. Clearly you’d expect Peanut Butter Toast Crunch to be good, but why is it good, asks the curious reader? Is the peanut flavor roasted and natural tasting? Does the cereal maintain the integrity of crispness found in normal Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Is the balance of sweet and salty just what a peanut butter lover would and should enjoy, evoking both a visceral and emotional response that simultaneously touches the taste buds and evokes memories alike?

The answer is “yes” to all of the above, and having now tried Peanut Butter Toast Crunch, I’m inclined to not only agree with this esteemed cereal expert, but I’m inclined to admit that his five simple words summed up the cereal perfectly.

The first thing that hits you is the smell of Peanut Butter Toast Crunch. Wendell, that lovable plump French baker who adorns the box, may be holding a jar of generic looking peanut butter , but the smell suggests anything but cheap and processed. The depth of peanuty flavor comes across as bolder than almost any other peanut butter flavor cereal or snack I’ve had, including, I should add, peanut butter cookies. There is a Golden Graham hue going on here, but the crispy,cinnamon and sugar-coated ridges of the classic Cinnamon Toast Crunch squares are still there. So is my main man Wendell:

I started with a dry handful and immediately thought, “hey, these are pretty good,” but after allowing the flavors to develop as I chewed on, I started to realize how good the crunchy little morsels are. Not just “pretty good.” More than “really good.” They were, for lack of a more profound description, really, really freaking good.

Crunchy, sweet, salty, and cinnamon-ey, each handful develops into the kind of chewy and comforting taste and texture that is so beloved with a peanut butter and honey sandwich. There’s a real “stick your roof” effect that allows you to savor the depth of peanut butter flavor, which tastes as if it’s not only coating each piece of cereal, but as if it’s been baked in by skillful French hands (albeit stubby cartoon hands.)

I enjoyed Peanut Butter Toast Crunch in milk, but I didn’t love it. This is where “they’re good,” doesn’t reveal any deeper meaning, but more accurately depicts a slightly less peanut buttery sweetness that occurs to the pieces in milk. Sure, they still hold their crunch, while the texture turns into a mushy slurry that might bring the cereal closer to actual peanut butter, but I felt like even a 50/50 cut of skim milk and half-and-half wasn’t good enough to make the cereal preferable to snacking dry. The end-milk, accordingly, was good, but I would have prefered it a bit sweeter.

Prior to eating Peanut Butter Toast Crunch I would have ranked Reese’s Peanut Butter Puffs cereal as my favorite peanut butter cereal, with Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch coming in a respectable second. Following the release of Peanut Butter Toast Crunch though, I’m apt to give Wendell at least the second spot. I stress at least because, when faced with equally priced versions of Reese’s Puffs and Peanut Butter Toast Crunch and only enough money to buy one of the boxes, I’ll borrow a lesson from one of my favorite Old Testiment figures. Drawing from the wisdom of King Solomon, I’d chop both boxes and half and combine them together, because I don’t think any cereal lover or peanut butter fiend could be made to make such a gut wrenching decision.

Nice job, Wendell. As far as I’m concerned, you have more than made amends for the nonsense you attempted to bake up with last year’s release of Frosted Toast Crunch. But please, for the love of all things sweet and salty, make an appearance in the commercial this time around!*

Peanut Butter Toast Crunch

• Price: $2.50 (Walmart)
• Ranking: 9.0/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 100%

*As you may know, Peanut Butter Crunch was first introduced in 2005, although I, a sophomore in high school at the time, was likely in too much of a “I’m too cool for the world” mood to care. Marvo actually reviewed the cereal for TheImpulsiveBuy.com back in those days, although I can’t imagine the cereal he tasted then and what I hold in my cabinet now consist of the same formula.

Cereal Throwdown: Froot Loops vs. Tootie Frooties

Simplicity, as I’ve often stated, is sometimes the most defining element in what makes a cereal good. Try too much, or stick in too many mix-ins, and a cereal suddenly runs the gammit of losing its identity. For the ubiquitous fruit flavored ring, that identity is unmistakable: sugar, an ambiguous berry flavor, and a solid crunch which renders a smooth, fruity flavor in milk.

Froot Loops, adorned in its red box with the iconic, if not lovable, Tucan Sam, has long been the standard. But it hasn’t been the only attempt at fruit flavored rings. Cheerios makes an arguably “healthier” version  of the Kellogg’s classic, while every grocery chain and natural food company in America has attempted to copy the classic. Most, I’ve found, come up short.

Which leads me to the curious case of Malt-O-Meal’s Tootie Fruities.

I’ve opined previously about my sentimental love affair with Malt-o-Meal cereals. It goes beyond pure nostalgia, however. Truth be told, Malt-O-Meal’s ‘knockoffs’ are pretty good, and their natural line — Mom’s Best — is incredibly affordable. The fact that Malt-O-Meal produces a clone of virtually every iconic General Mills and Kellogg’s cereal is a well-known fact, and one the company touts extensively in their marketing attempts to compare costs.

Big Lots: Gotta Love It

But what about taste? I recently picked up a bag of Malt-O-Meal’s Tootie Fruties to see if the berry flavors and sturdy crunch could match that of one of my all-time favorites, Froot Loops.

Dry

Froot Loops definitely has a crunchier texture. It’s a bit more difficult to suck the life out of it, so to speak, hinting at a higher moisture content. The mouthfeel is smoother if not a bit oily, but it’s also more pleasing, as well. Both cereals are exceptionally sweet and single flavored (I know, I know, it bummed me out when I found out too) but there is a slightly saccharine aftertaste to Tootie Fruities. It’s not enough to be bothersome for some one used to hyper-sweet cereals, but if you’ve been chowing down on the fruit rings in the organic section, I’m guessing it won’t be you’re cup of nectar. Now, on to fruit flavors, you ask? Believe it or not there is an interesting and fruity astringency to Froot Loops, or, rather, as much as you can imagine a nutritionally worthless concoction of natural flavors and food coloring to have. While I like Tootie Fruities, they come off as “aged” as a dry snacking cereal, almost as if they were once great but, after months of abuse from shipping and Walmart warehouses, have lost some of their vital crunch and flavor. Froot Loops, meanwhile, never ceases to delight, remaining impossibly and irreconcilably complex for its simple arrangement of fake food dyes and sugar.

Edge: My man Sam.

In Milk

Froot Loops

This is where things start to get interesting. I’ve actually never had Froot Loops in milk, and only had Tootie Fruities in milk on one occasion. It was in Mississippi on a church mission trip, and I had it with coconut milk. It was FREAKING AWSOME (caps intended.) This time around I checked out both cereals in Skim Plus Milk (decent, but not great.)

Tootie Fruities

Fruit Loops once again had a smoother overall mouthfeel. It doesn’t become saturated with milk, but at the same time takes in enough to develop a light and fruity crunch. I thought Froot Loops held up, and held its color, better in milk than Tootie Fruities. That being said, Tootie Fruities receives what can only be described as a transcendent burst of sugar in milk. It’s incredibly intense, and while not as fruity as Froot Loops, leaves a more satisfying, slurp-the-bowl-full end-milk than anything Tucan Sam would offer. The best analogy I have is the difference between drinking regular soda vs. Diet.

Froot Loops? Or Wait, is that Tootie Frooties?

Edge: Tootie Fruities

X-Factors

Price wise, Tootie Fruties is clearly the better buy. I won’t lie — the .50 cent bag I snagged at Big Lots was pretty great, but even at its retail price, any Malt-O-Meal cereal will best it’s name-brand counterpart.

From a nutrition perspective, Froot Loops has less sugar per serving (12 grams) than Tootie Fruties (15 grams), although Tootie Fruities has a larger serving size at 32 grams, compared to Froot Loops’ 29 grams. Froot Loops has more fiber (3 grams) but it also has partially hydrogenated oil in its ingredients.

Cool Blue and Lil Oaty. No relation.

Malt-O-Meal cereals have nothing on the back-of-the-box games Kellogg’s can provide, including the “make your own Tucan Sam” cutout currently on Froot Loops boxes. Likewise, the box configuration of Froot Loops makes it easier to close and keep fresh than the bulky, sometimes odd bag of Tooty Fruities.

Edge: I can’t lie. I’m cheap. Tootie Frooties wins.

The best of both worlds

Final Verdict

Tootie Fruities takes two out of three, so it’s the winner, right? In the words of Lee Corso, “not so fast my friend.” Like any cereal buying option, the question of Froot Loops or Tootie Fruities comes down to how you prefer your morning (or 1 p.m., or midnight) bowl. If you’re looking for a dry snacking cereal, you cannot beat Froot Loops. It has enough fruit flavor and crunch to keep you interested, and the kind of structure that can hold up in any ziplock bag. But if you’re an end-milk junkie who lives for the nectar left behind from your cereal, Tootie Frooties provides the kind of sugar rush that transforms milk into a slightly healtheir version of fruit juice.

With conundrums such as this, I am quite sure the wisdom of King Solomon would direct us to simply combine the two cereals in a single container, and enjoy the uncomplicated joys of ambiguous “natural and artificial” fruit flavors in ring form.

Tootie Fruities

• Ranking: 8/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 75%

Froot Loops

• Ranking: 9/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 100%

Food for Thought: I’m not being facetious when I say that I like the ambiguous, artificial taste and cloying sweetness of both these cereals. To a certain extent I can’t explain why I like them so much. Do you have a cereal, or any food, that you like and don’t know how to explain?

Cereal Throwdown: Blueberry Edition

One day, when I’m the head of a conglomerate of cereal and ice cream companies, my first order of business will be to increase the amount of underrated fruit flavors in cereal. Aside from prohibiting subsequent “Honey Nut” flavors and setting limits on the amount of Chex and Cheerios flavors produced, I’ll make sure to give Blueberry its proper seat at the breakfast table.

Maybe it’s because summer has finally arrived, or maybe it’s just because I’ve grown bored with cereals featuring maple or chocolate, but I’ve been on a real blueberry kick as of late. Problem is, Blueberry tends to be one of those flavors (much like Banana) that can never truly be copied in a packaged box, with attempts often coming out as cloying and artificial at best, and downright objectionable at worst.

Not that companies don’t try, and not that I’m going to give up on blueberry flavored cereals entirely. By some rare convergence of market forces, I even managed to find myself looking at three distinct blueberry cereals in my family’s pantry. Struck by this occurrence, I decided this bounty was bequeathed for one reason and one reason only.

Yes friends, a throwdown. Let’s get to it.

Blueberry Muffins Tops (Malt-O-Meal)

A cereal with cult like status for college age penny pinchers who frequently find it on the shelves of Super Walmarts, BMT is your standard Cinnamon Toast Crunch-type cereal with a twist. That twist is a beyond cloying blueberry sweetness matched only by a heavy coating of sugar crystals and tiny specks of blue. Each piece has an oily sheen and a crisp-fried mouthfeel, but the taste is classic blueberry muffin, albeit in the Hostess bakery sense. The exterior sugar coating is thick and almost sticky, making snackability  difficult if you should find yourself in a public place. But that sugary coating? Lets just say it would get the kids from Heavyweights expelled from Camp Hope. Surprisingly, the multigrain element does come through when you get past the initial sweetness, as does a strong blueberry flavor that isn’t so drowned out by thirst-inducing sugar rush. Still, one won’t find any sour or astringent notes, and the serving size equates to a very, very small amount of squares. In milk it has a tendency to take on liquid like the Titanic, but a dissemination of the surface oil leads to a cut in the sugar rush and an enjoyable chew.

• X-Factors: Buying in bulk at Super Walmart. Resealable bag.  DOES NOT GO BAD. Still made with hydrogenated oils.
• Best If You Want…The most insane sugar rush in a cereal you could ever imagine. Also, a Hostess blueberry muffin.
• Could use some…Milk. And lots of it. With so much sugar this stuff just makes you thirsty. Also, a single serving container. A simple “bowl” can get out of control, really, really quickly.

Special K Blueberry (Kelloggs)

It took me a while to finally convince my mom to let a non Chocolate Special K into the household, but as a snack cereal, I wasn’t overly impressed with the blueberry edition of the lineup. Not only does the cereal box scream an an ethos of “fit into that bikini by eating bland Special K!” but it contains no mazes or other fun cartoon characters. The base itself is somewhere between crispy and crunchy, but the rice element is bland and the flavor is a mild generic berry more than anything else. It’s not all bad news though. The little blueberry oat clusters have a needed crunch and malted sweetness, but like all cluster cereals they tend to sink to the bottom of the box. I toughed out a bowl in milk (skim milk, to keep with the Special K ethos) but aside from a light blue color, the end milk just tastes like the insipid water it is. The flakes disintegrate too easily in milk, and while the berry flavor is actually less masked by the multigrain base, it’s not enough to excite me. Unless, maybe, I was on a perpetual Special K challange, and had visions of myself fitting into that bikini this summer.

• X-Factors: Blueberry oat clusters. Moderate amount of sugar (8 grams).  
• Best If You Want…to lose weight while enjoying a mild blueberry flavor with, I’m presuming, a half cup of skim milk and a Lifetime movie.*
• Could use some…actual dried blueberries. A cup of heavy cream to wash it down with.

Frosted Mini Wheats Blueberry Muffin (Kelloggs)

For all the praise I’ve sung for the Little Bites this was actually the first time I went with any of the fruit flavored Mini Wheat flavors. As a snack I don’t think you can best the structure. The pieces are solid and have a nice glaze that’s very sweet, but the catacombs of wheat on the interior also have dots of blue that give a more subtle backnote of blueberry flavor, especially in milk. I’d say the flavor is more blueberry muffin than blueberry, and just a tad less sweet than Malt-o-Meal’s version. The flavor won’t give you any sour or tart notes, but it does strike me as a little higher class than Malt-o-Meal’s rendition. In milk the sugared coating takes on a sumptuous mouthfeel, while the wheat squares slowly disintegrate in layers, giving you different levels of a soggy crunch with backnotes of berry. The end milk is sweet and drinkable, and like Doug Heffernan looking down on his last spoonful of pudding, I find myself becoming sad as my food ends. That’s ok though, because the end-dust is like a crunchy version of a blueberry pixie stick.

• X-Factors: Talking Mini Wheat cartoon characters. Crunchy sugar coating. Respectable nutrition. Addicting end dust. Solid commercials.
• Best If You Want…Need a discreet blueberry muffin fix without sending yourself into a sugar shock.
• Could use some…Sugared blueberry coating on the naked side. Blueberry “goo” in the middle.

Winner: Mini Wheats Little Bites

Who are we kidding? When it comes to blueberry cereal, I’m of the mindset that you’re better going with the mass-produced, cloying taste of soybean oil and glycerin than anything remotely tasting like an actual tart and plump blueberry. But where Malt-O-Meal’s Blueberry Muffin Tops is way-over-the-top, Kellogg’s Mini Wheat version is just over-the-top, and has the benefit of being both a great and portable snack, and a “proper” spoon and bowl cereal.

Your Turn: Anyone got any favorite blueberry flavored cereals out there? And to the eternal question: which Mini Wheats and/or Special K cereal do you like the best?

*I’m not discriminating. Substitute an entire box of Waffle Crisp and an old college football game, and you’ve got my life.

Cereal Throwdown: Nesquik vs. Cocoa Puffs

When it comes to cereal featuring maple flavor, I’m more than happy to acquiesce to the claims of Canadian maple syrup. I’ve written extensively on the condition inspired by French Toast Crunch, and would ascribe any superiority it has over American counterparts (not including Waffle Crisp) to Quebec’s claim as the world’s leading producer of the deeply sweet syrup.  

Cocoa is a different story. Especially when it comes to cocoa featuring a cartoon character. For this I must differ to a bird of a different feather. A Cuckoo, to be more precise.

Little did I know there is a Canadian animal with the effrontery to challenge Sonny’s claim as the world’s greatest cocoa-inspired cereal. With balling skills equal to that of a Harlem globetrotter, the bunny (and no, he is not a rabbit) representing Canada’s Nesquik cereal would at first appear a charlatan of the U.S. of A’s iconic Cocoa Puffs. But is that really the case? Or have we American been lead into a fallacious conclusion about the nature of Cocoa Puffs, succumbing to the kind of insipid and dull taste that would hardly associate with going “cuckoo?”

I set out to glean the true master of cocoa taste, and to match Canada’s best with America’s enduring in a border showdown not seen since the fiercely contested 2010 Olympic Hockey Final.

To do this, I enlisted the help of some family and friends in setting up a blind taste test for me to try both cereals dry, and to pick out which one I liked best. I then attempted to identify which was which, and later I tasted both in milk (non-blind taste test.) The results after the jump… 

Cereal Throwdown: Fiber One 80 Calorie vs. Honey Nut Cheerios

I have a cereal confession to make: I’m a sucker for Fiber One.

Annoying ad guy notwithstanding, I’ve never thought the “healthy” cereals produced by the brand tasted like cardboard. I mean, their bars basically taste like candy, and their cereals beat the sox off most sugary adult cereal you can get. Even the Fiber One Original has a special place in my heart. The bran-ey taste gets such a boost from aspartame that it’s like sucking down the flavor of a Sara Lee Bran Muffins, while the crunchy little twigs make it both an ideal mix in with chocolate chips, as well as a great topper for yogurt.

It’s a double edge sword eating Fiber One, no doubt. While it tastes good going down, my small intestines will often be kicking myself later (literally), so much so that I have to restrain myself from buying both the Original and Honey Clusters varieties. The Original is tough to duplicate, but I’ve earned to get my Honey kick on by replacing the Honey Clusters with good old fashioned Honey Nut Cheerios. Despite a newfound love for Multigrain Peanut Butter Cheerios, the box with the smiling bumble bee remains the most purchased Cheerio variety in my house.

But how does it compare with the newest member of the Fiber One cereal line? Fiber One 80 calorie cereal clearly is targeted to the dieting women crowd (lets not mince words here) but that’s never stopped me from trying out a Fiber One product in the past. Looking to test just how authentic that honey taste is, I put it up against Honey Nut Cheerios in the blog’s first ever Cereal Throwdown.

Appearance and Texture: Honey Nut Cheerios have a classic shape that seems different than every other Honey-O knockoff your local grocery store is producing. The O’s are fairly small with a distinct glaze that renders a smooth mouthfeel. I love snacking on them because the glaze dissolves slowly in your mouth, and you can literally suck on the peices like candy. Fiber One 80 Calorie, meanwhile, comes in two shades. There is also a slight honey glaze, although it doesn’t seem as distinct because of the ridge lines. The peices have a slight puffed nature to them though, and aren’t as liable to spill when you go digging around for them in your grab-n-go pouch while at work (what, eating on the job?). Likewise, they have a bit sturdier of a crunch, which allow you to get more dissolve time in your mouth. Because of these two facts, I give a slight edge to Fiber One 80 Calorie.

Taste: It’s a lot closer than I thought going in. The good news is that if you’re a honey fan both pack a punch. While Honey Nut Chex might just hold the record for most potent honey sweetness, Honey Nut Cheerios and its nine grams of sugar (from honey, sugar, and brown sugar) hit you with a mellow and classic taste that also gets a big boost from an almond flavor on the backend. Once more, you can actually taste the oat base, which isn’t marred by any off chemical or excessive corn flavors. The flavors of corn bran are more apparent in the Fiber One cereal but not as off-putting as the ingredient list might hint, and the honey flavor is all but identical in sweetness to Honey Nut Cheerios. However, each piece lacks the certain depth of flavor that is encased in each Honey Nut Cheerio, and something just doesn’t seem to mesh as well as the tried and true combination of oats + honey + almonds. Honey Nut gets first crack here.

Nutritional Considerations: Per serving, you’re looking at 80 calories (duh) against 110 calories. From a density standpoint you’re going to get more servings at fewer calories per bowl of Fiber One, and while a serving of Honey Nut Cheerios definitely hits the spot, it’s easy to overload. But I like that Honey Nut Cheerios doesn’t kill you with fiber. Too much fiber is gonna straight up make me not want to move, so even though the whole low calorie angle might be the way to go for the desk-ridden crowd, Honey Nut Cheerios supports my lifestyle better. Gotta give the bee the edge here.

Winner: It’s no secret I hold Honey Nut Cheerios to be the gold standard of golden honey deliciousness in boxed, cartoon character form. That being said, the honey taste was very evenly matched by Fiber One 80 Calories, which in a “close my eyes” taste test was tough to call out. But the giveaway — and the element which makes Honey Nut Cheerios so great — is that complex almond taste, which compliments and brings out the flavors of the oats. Truth be told, both of these have become repeat purchases for me, but if you’re going to twist my arm and make me buy one or the other, I’m going with the Bee every time.

Honey Nut Cheerios

• Ranking: 9/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 100%

Fiber One 80 Calorie

• Ranking: 7.5/10
• Chances I’d Buy Again: 80%