REVIEW: Ragu Supreme Pizza

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When I first stumbled upon the new Ragu Frozen Pizza at a local grocery store, my first thought was, “Oh, now why is this a thing?” A random couple standing nearby echoed my confusion. The guy said, “Honey, look— Ragu frozen pizza.” To which the lady replied, “Um, nasty. No.”

And, like, I get it. Though the idea of the world’s most popular (or second most popular? I don’t know how Ragu stacks up against Prego, sales-wise) jarred spaghetti sauce putting its pizza sauce on a frozen pizza shouldn’t be repulsive, it is a little — pardon the pun — jarring. But the thing is, this is actually a Palermo’s pizza product.

If you’re not familiar with Palermo’s Pizza, well, actually you are, I promise. You’ve probably seen — if not eaten — either a Screamin’ Sicilian, a Connie’s, an Urban Pie, a Surfer Boy (lo of the Stranger Things tie-in), or, god forbid, the recently released Cheez-It Pizza. I’ve had and enjoyed many Screamin’ Sicilian pizzas (they used to have some great specialty ones), and a couple of the Urban Pies and the Surfer Boy pies generally receive pretty favorable reviews. The point is there’s a decent track record.

But, so, what does the Ragu bring to the table in this engagement? Is whatever it adds any better (or worse) than standard frozen pizza sauce?

The new Ragu Pizzas come in four flavors — Cheese, Combination (Italian sausage and pepperoni), Pepperoni, and Supreme (Italian sausage, pepperoni, green, yellow and red peppers, onion, and black olives) — and all are served on “a flaky, pizzeria-style crust.” Weirdly enough, they make sure to call out that all use a “Ragu-inspired” sauce, and not just, you know, Ragu. Interesting distinction! For this review, I tried the Supreme.

This was one of the most boring, uninspired frozen pizzas I’ve ever had. It wasn’t bad; it wasn’t good. It was utterly unforgettable. The crust was bland, of medium thickness, and devoid of any real flavor. The cheese was the same. The toppings were standard, mid-tier frozen pizza fare; I didn’t notice any punch from the onions or peppers — they were mostly just mushy. The pepperoni and sausage chunks were salty and chewy. I think the whole thing had, like, five black olives on it. Ho-hum. But what about the star of the show, the Ragu-inspired sauce? It was… there. It tasted red. It was a little sweet, I guess, but not oppressively so. It was, in a word, generic.

And really, that’s the tale of this pie: the most generic-tasting frozen pizza I’ve had in quite some time. I wouldn’t buy one again; with 8,000 frozen pizza alternatives available — some of which are actually good — there’s no point in this one existing. Sorry, Palermo’s. Better luck next time. (PS. How about “next time” means bringing back the Screamin’ Sicilian that had jalapeños and bacon and chicken with a ranch sauce? That thing was worth buying.)

Purchased Price: $5.99
Size: 23.15 oz
Purchased at: Hy-Vee
Rating: 4 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (1/5th pizza) 320 calories, 16 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 30 milligrams of cholesterol, 680 milligrams of sodium, 32 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 3 grams of sugar, and 12 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Limited Edition Miller Lite Beer Pringles (Grilled Beer Brat, Beer-Braised Steak, and Beer Can Chicken)

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It’s almost Memorial Day, aka the unofficial start of Summer, aka prime grilling season (you know, if you’re the type to relegate your outdoor meat cooking to only one particular time of year).

In the spirit of the season, Pringles is teaming up with Miller Lite beer to bring a few different types of beer-inspired grilled meat potato crisps to store shelves: Grilled Beer Brat, Beer-Braised Steak, and Beer Can Chicken. (If you’ve never had beer can chicken, it’s where you stick an opened can of beer up a chicken’s butt before grilling it, ostensibly to… infuse the chicken meat with the essence of beer? It doesn’t actually make it taste like beer in my experience. Maybe it keeps the chicken moist, I’m no food scientist.) Anyway, although I don’t drink beer nowadays, I DO eat Pringles — and chicken, brats, and steak — so I tried all three.

Beer Can Chicken: The worst of the bunch. Not bad, but not good. Very neutral, in other words. These tasted like regular Pringles, honestly, that were maybe just a little… off. I heard someone online suggest that they tasted like chicken ramen packets, and someone else excitedly agreed, but I didn’t get that sense AT ALL. A Pringle flavored with chicken ramen seasoning would have been much better (though probably not accurate for Beer Can Chicken and chicken ramen seasoning Pringles have already been done). I found myself tired of these after two crisps.

Beer-Braised Steak: Interesting, and better than the BCC, but I wasn’t in love with these, either. There was definitely more of a meaty essence with these — even, dare I say, steak-meat — and a decent charcoal hint at the beginning, but it felt like it was all right up front on the chip, with no nuance or longer-lasting flavor.

Grilled Beer Brat: The best of the bunch, if only because it felt the truest to its intention. Though I still didn’t get any “beer” flavoring, this one nicely mimicked an actual grilled brat. My only complaint was the same as with the Beer-Braised Steak version — the flavoring could’ve used a little more oomph. All of the seasoning seemed to be at the beginning of the tasting, and I didn’t really feel like it warranted eating a bunch to get that good initial taste.

Because I wanted to know if I could trust my taste buds — and the Pringles food scientists to get it right — I blind taste tested each to see if I could pick out which one was which. The Chicken’s blandness was unmistakable — I guessed it on my first go-round. The other two took a bit more work. I initially mixed up which was which, but after having about three of each, I got them correct. Additionally, I tested them on my daughter, who went in with zero knowledge of the intended flavors. She thought the Chicken was “regular Pringles,” Steak was “garlic,” and Brat was “mint.” She also declared that she didn’t like any of them, and was scandalized that I tried to give her beer. Kids, am I right?

Purchased Price: $2.00 (each)
Size: 5.5 oz cans
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 5 out of 10 (Chicken), 6 out of 10 (Steak), 7 out of 10 (Brat)
Nutrition Facts: (14 Crisps) 150 calories, 9 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium Brat/Steak 180 milligrams of sodium Chicken, 17 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 0 grams of total sugars, and 1 gram of protein.

REVIEW: Sprite Chill Strawberry Kiwi

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Can we all agree that “strawberry kiwi” has its own distinct flavor? I know that sounds a little weird, like, “Yeah, duh, dude.” But hear me out: some fruits go together, and when you eat a thing containing the pieces, you notice each. When you eat a lemon-blueberry loaf, you go, “Oh, that’s a blueberry,” and then, “Yep, there’s lemon.” Ditto cranberry-orange and, to a lesser extent, strawberry-watermelon. I feel like strawberry kiwi, however— heretofore known as strawi—is most recognizable as a singular entity and less a sum of its individual components.

Or maybe I’m just on one because I’m really digging this new Walmart-exclusive Sprite Chill Strawberry Kiwi.

I’m not an overly regular Sprite consumer. One of the reasons I drink soda is as a caffeine delivery mechanism, and so it has an inherent strike against it. But every once in a while, I’ll see Sprite and think, hey, that looks refreshing. But this new offering moves beyond “refreshing” and goes straight to, “This is the sort of soda that I should totally be drinking poolside on an 85-degree summer day.” (Okay, and I’ll also admit that this is, perhaps, influenced by the fact that it is almost 80-degrees here in the midwest at the end of March— what I believe we call 2nd Fool’s Spring. We’ll have snow once more before Spring is actually official, mark my word.)

Anyway, the strawi is strong here, sweet and crisp at the beginning of the sip, in the middle, and all the way through. It’s a perfect strawi, too, a bit tart, a lot sweet, with that balanced melon-like smoothness emblematic of kiwi. You couldn’t ask for a better representation of the popular multiple-seeded fruit combination. It complements the Sprite perfectly— you never lose sight of the fact that you’re enjoying the lemon-lime soda you know and love. It’s just enhanced. And although this is one of Sprite’s “Chill” varieties, I wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t plastered on the can. There was no mentholated “chilling” effect to the soda, which I wasn’t exactly sad about. That whole random “cooling” gimmick that started up within the past year or so does nothing for me; at its best, it’s unnoticeable, and when it is present, it’s just bad.

My only beef with this product is that there doesn’t appear to be a zero sugar version, and by virtue of that alone, I’d be unlikely to repurchase. Unless, you know, it’s 85 degrees. And I’m at a pool.

Purchased Price: $6.86
Size: 12-pack
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 9 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (12 fl oz.) 140 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 65 milligrams of sodium, 38 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 38 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Strawberry Cereal

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It’s Valentine’s Season, and in the junk food world, that means one thing: chocolate and strawberries. Or chocolate or strawberries. Or chocolate-covered strawberries. Okay, so that’s three things, I guess. Or just one, if it’s chocolate-covered strawberries. Either way, Valentine’s Day.

Cinnamon Toast Crunch — no stranger to branching out beyond its square Cinnadust-blasted archetypal form — is ready to celebrate the season of romance with its own lusty offering, Cinnamon Toast Crunch Strawberry. It’s not a weird concept, really, I don’t guess. I mean, people put strawberries on top of French toast all the time. Well, okay, I guess that requires you to overlook that Cinnamon Toast Crunch is cinnamon toast-based and not French toast. But you get the idea. It’s like making cinnamon toast and then topping it with strawberries. Is that a thing? Well, it is now. And in cereal form!

So, does it work? I honestly can’t decide! I mean it. It’s strange, but I’ve had a few bowls and can’t decide how I feel.

The thing is, it’s exactly what it sets out to be — and that’s what I’m so on the fence about: do we actually need strawberry cinnamon toast? The base layer here is very identifiably Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but there’s a slightly tart strawberry punch instead of that sugary, cinnamony finish. But also? It’s not strawberry enough. One thing CTC isn’t shy about, as the basketball fans say, is “going hard in the paint.” Cinnamon Toast Crunch and all of its sugar cookie, gingerbread, and waffle iterations are boldly seasoned, not for the faint of heart.

And so, honestly, it feels like if they wanted to commit to this strawberry thing, they should have really gone heavy with the strawberry seasoning shaker. I’d go one step further and suggest that they would have been just as well served to limit the cinnamon component entirely. Just go Strawberry Toast Crunch. (Hy-Vee does [or did?] a “blueberry squares” cereal that was just that, but, you know, with a crazy-strong blueberry flavoring, and it is [or was?] a solid 9 out of 10. That’s what this could have been.)

I’m not mad about this cereal, but I’m also not in love with it. When Cupid finally shoots it with his arrow, and it goes to Cereal Heaven, I won’t mourn it.

Purchased Price: $4.93
Size: 18.8 oz box (Family Size)
Purchased at: Walmart (Exclusive)
Rating: 6 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (41 grams) 170 calories, 4 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 gram of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 230 milligrams of sodium, 33 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 12 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Doritos Golden Sriracha

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A few years ago — or you know, a decade or so ago (time is a construct which escapes me) — sriracha was the flavor du jour. Mad food scientists in R&D for all the big food conglomerates were busy sticking the angry chili sauce in all of their products. McDonald’s did it. Taco Bell did it. Cheez-It and Pringles imbued their respective crackers and crisps with the much-beloved condiment.

Heck, even Doritos traveled down this road in 2019 with its Screamin’ Sriracha offering.

And so, a scant five years later and apparently running low on ideas, they’re back in an attempt to reignite snackers’ passion for the spicy sauce. Is this new version any different? And in a world packed with choices hoping to capture your snacking dollar, are they worth a go?

Well, the answer to the first question is a definite, “I don’t know, but it certainly looks that way?” I didn’t have the first iteration (I honestly don’t even recall seeing them in my area), but looking at pictures from our very own review five years back, the initial Sriracha Doritos were, well, “screamin’.” Violently red and absolutely blasted with seasoning, this was a very different chip.

The 2025 variant, by comparison, is a soft yellow color with mild, minimal seasoning specks. And, truth be told, it’s a pretty mild flavoring overall. If you’re familiar with sriracha, you know the drill — tangy, a bit vinegary, a little garlicky background, and the heat. This chip captures the tang pretty well — a sweet, ketchup-like zing — but I’m afraid it misses a lot of the nuanced undertones that make sriracha work so well. There’s a bit of vinegar, sure, but it’s slight. I don’t notice anything of a garlic nature. The heat kicks in on the back end of the first chip and is milder than the eponymous sauce, so if you can tolerate at least the teensiest bit of heat, these should pose no problem.

In the end, I found myself wishing these chips were just more. More seasoned. More fiery. More interesting. As it stands, if you’re looking for heat, you’d be better served choosing from Doritos Flamin’ Hot versions. And if you’re looking for a Doritos with sriracha flavor, might I suggest applying actual sriracha sauce to a regular Doritos chip? Because if you’ve never done that, you should.

Purchased Price: $3.00
Size: 9.25 oz
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 6 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (28 g) 140 calories, 7 grams of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 gram of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 150 milligrams of sodium, 17 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, less than 1 gram of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.

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