REVIEW: Jack in the Box Grilled French Toast Plate

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Jack in the Box Grilled French Toast Plate

It’s important to start your morning right with a tasty breakfast, but I can’t say Jack in the Box’s Grilled French Toast Plate helped me accomplish that. And now my day has gotten off on the wrong foot and, I mean, they say it comes in threes, so what other two gloomy events are going to happen to me today?

The Grilled French Toast Plate is part of Jack’s Brunchfast menu and it features three pieces of French toast, your choice of bacon or sausage, and syrup. Mine came with two syrup containers. I don’t know if that’s the universe trying to balance my bad start or if that’s what Jack in the Box employees are instructed to do.

But those containers came in handy because the French toast by themselves are a bit bland. There’s a slight egginess and an even more slight sweetness, but it’s lacking flavor beyond that. There was powdered sugar on the pieces, but most of it had melted into the bread by the time I opened the plastic container they came in. I’m disappointed they didn’t have any cinnamon flavor or butteriness.

Jack in the Box Grilled French Toast Plate 2

I dumped the syrup from one of the containers onto all three pieces. One container has enough to coat all of them, but even with that, the grilled bread didn’t have as much sweetness as I’m used to with French toast. So I found myself using the second container as a dip.

The pieces were soft enough that I could use my fork to cut through them. But that’s the only positive thing I could say about them. Well, I thought they looked great, but that belief faded away as soon as I tried them.

As for the sausage, it too was soft enough that I could use my fork to cut through it. It’s salty, porky, and, now that I think about it, I should’ve used it as the meat for a French toast sandwich. That might’ve made the French toast better.

I really like the Southwest Scrambler Plate on the Brunchfast menu. I’ve ordered it almost a dozen times by now. But I can’t say the same about the Grilled French Toast Plate, and this is the only time I’ll ever buy it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have go prepare myself for whatever calamities will come my way today.

(Nutrition Facts – w/sausage and w/o syrup – 555 calories, 213 calories from fat, 24 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 193 milligrams of cholesterol, 1263 milligrams of sodium, 137 milligrams of potassium, 66 grams of carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 12 grams of sugar, and 19 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $4.99
Size: N/A
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: French toast pieces were soft and easy to cut with a fork. Looks good. Two syrup containers. Sausage was fine. Eating breakfast.
Cons: Not a good way to start your morning, afternoon, or evening, since it’s available all day. French toast NEEDS syrup. It needs it SOOOO BAD. No cinnamon or butteriness. Not making a French toast sandwich with it.

REVIEW: Hostess Twinkies Frozen Dairy Dessert Cone

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Hostess Twinkies Frozen Dairy Dessert Cone

Earlier this year Hostess turned their iconic crinkle-wrapped sponge cake into an ice cream. As good as that was, let’s be honest, it needed a bowl AND a spoon, which is so much more effort than snack cake annihilation should require.

Suffer no more America, we now have before us the Twinkies Frozen Dairy Dessert Cone. No utensils, no dishwashing, and hell, if you play your cards right you could even use the wrapper as a napkin to get the creamy fiesta off of your face. This latest and greatest piece of American innovation combines golden sponge cake crumbles and creamy frozen dairy dessert all packaged in the classic ready-to-devour sugar cone.

Hostess Twinkies Frozen Dairy Dessert Cone 4

The initial bites are delicious and very reminiscent of the Twinkie ice cream tub that was decked out with sponge cake pieces swimming in a pool of creamy, almost greasy cake ice cream. The top of the cone is the only part of the dessert that has the cake, which imparts not only added texture but a bunch more flavor as well. The cake combined with the fluffy yellow “ice cream” is fun and very much like eating the much loved (or hated) snack cake.

Hostess Twinkies Frozen Dairy Dessert Cone 5

Beneath the initial layer of yellow fluff is a layer of white fluff, which is noticeably less flavorful and exciting than the way the cone started. It’s hard to tell if the lack of flavor is due to a different profile within the cream itself or the absence of cake, but it’s no less much less intriguing to the tongue.

The next layer is yellow, but it coincides with the top of the cone which also has a thin layer of chocolate inside. So there’s an extra crunch and chocolate flavor that accompanies the frozen dairy, which makes it a more exciting chew. And, like all good Nestle cones, this one finishes with a piece of chocolate wedged in the bottom, which puts an exclamation mark of “YUM” on the very last bite.

Hostess Twinkies Frozen Dairy Dessert Cone 3

This cone is good. From top to bottom it’s fluffy, sweet, and whimsical like something from an ice cream truck, albeit not the highest quality. The use of frozen dairy as opposed to real ice cream gives it a much lighter feel, both in your hand and on the palate than the usual Drumstick. It also makes scarfing more than one of these a pretty reasonable task.

Hopefully, Hostess can figure out how to put the Twinkie into pill form so I can just sit back, relax, and pop them ‘twinks on the low.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cone – 220 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 5 grams of saturated fat, grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 75 milligrams of sodium, 33 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 21 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein..)

Purchased Price: $3.99
Size: 4-pack
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: No need for utensils. Instant ice cream injection. Fun sponge cake pieces. Chocolate at the bottom of the cone.
Cons: White frozen dairy may lack flavor. Needs more cake pieces.

REVIEW: Arby’s Meat Mountain

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Arby's Meat Mountain

Not since the Carl’s Jr. and Hardee’s Most American Thickburger – or maybe that one Pizza Hut variation that had pigs-in-a-blanket as the crust – has there been a fast food offering as audacious as Arby’s Meat Mountain.

So monstrous this tribute to American ingenuity/gluttony that the cashier actually ASKED me if I was serious when I ordered it. In fact, I had to tell her “yes” no less than three times before she rang up the purchase.

You remember those old episodes of Scooby Doo when Shaggy would get the munchies and come marching out of the kitchen with a towering sandwich filled with who-knows-what all the way to the ceiling? Well, that’s pretty much what Meat Mountain is. Underneath one greasy star-cut bun, you get all of the following ingredients: angus beef, cheddar cheese, chicken tenders, corned beef, pepper bacon, pit-smoked ham, roast beef, roast turkey, smoked brisket, and Swiss cheese.

So basically, it’s like eating Noah’s Ark in sandwich form. It’s a 1,000-calories plus behemoth that doesn’t even fit in the company’s stock wrappers – my order came in a wadded up ball of wax paper that, folded out on the table, came out to nearly two feet in length.

In that, I suppose Meat Mountain is more of a limited-time-challenge than a limited-time-offering. You don’t eat it for the pleasurable gustatory sensation, you eat it because it’s a direct threat to your manhood (or womanhood.) One does not simply review Meat Mountain; rather, one seeks to survive it.

Not that it’s a surprise to anybody, but the sandwich is definitely a hassle to eat. It’s so big you really can’t fit your mouth around it without taking out a layer or two of meat first, so you may find yourself tearing chunks of Meat Mountain apart instead of shoveling it down your throat (let’s call that one the velociraptor technique.)

Does the medley of meats come together harmoniously? Not really, but it’s still pretty awesome. It’s not so much the divergent tastes of the product that’s weird as it is the alternating textures. One bite it’s crunchy and a little spicy, the next it’s sinewy and chewy and just a wee bit soggy. That said, getting a mouthful of cow, chicken, pig and turkey all at once does make you feel like a khakis-clad T-Rex, and ultimately, that’s the feeling you’re paying $10 for.

One look at this thing and you’ll know right away whether or not you can handle it. Just one word of caution for all you iron-stomached adventurers out there, who think you’re ready to go napkin to napkin with this mammoth burger: while the sandwich isn’t as oily as you’d expect, it is unbelievably salty, packing a whopping 3,000-plus milligrams of sodium. So be sure you have a cola nearby before tackling this beastly creation – or at the very least, a sizable armada of Arby’s sauces.

(Nutrition Facts – 1,030 calories, 460 calories from fat, 51 grams of total fat, 20 grams of saturated fat, 1.5 grams of trans fat, 225 milligrams of cholesterol, 3,640 milligrams of sodium, 58 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 8 grams of sugars, 87 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $10
Size: N/A
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Being able to eat an entire barnyard in one sitting. The feeling of savory, crispy bacon dancing next to corned beef on your tongue. Dipping your turkey-chicken-beef-ham-bacon sammich into a pool of horseradish-pepper-ketchup-and-honey-mustard sauce and realizing what it’s like to be the king of all existence for a few fleeting seconds.
Cons: EVERYTHING is super-duper-extra-salty. Some of the meats don’t gel together well at all. The look on the cashier’s face when you ask if it comes in a vegan-friendly version.

REVIEW: Girl Scout S’mores Sandwich Cookies

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Girl Scout S'mores Sandwich Cookies

Call me the s’more connoisseur.

I’ve bought s’mores in stores from shore to shore. Famous to obscure, I’ve explored the s’more tour.

More or less, I’ve put s’mores to the test, and yes, my rhymes ARE poor and in jest. This I confess as you snore unimpressed, I’ll shut up and give you a score and ingest.

You know who I hate? Me.

You know who I appreciate? Those hard working Girl Scouts. They really know how to get my money, especially when they camp outside of supermarkets. Who would dare say no to America’s second most intimidating Green Berets?

To celebrate 100 years of annoying office colleagues shoving order forms in your face, the Girl Scouts have blessed the world with a new cookie flavor – S’mores.

Unbeknownst to me, there are actually two new S’mores cookies available in select areas. The chocolate covered graham variety wasn’t available when I was pressured into spending twenty dollars, so I went with the sandwich cookie.

Girl Scout S’mores are described as “a crunchy graham sandwich cookie with creamy chocolate and marshmallowy filling,” so it tackles the three main ingredients of a standard s’more. Does it taste like a standard s’more? Ehhhhh.

The graham actually tasted more along the lines of a thin shortbread to me. Shortbread is probably my least favorite Girl Scout cookie, so I was bummed to be reminded of it.

The smell and taste instantly put me in mind of generic supermarket sandwich cookies. You know the ones that they toss on the top shelf that are two bucks cheaper than Oreo? The cookies there to make Hydrox feel better about itself? Those. They aren’t the worst snack on Earth, but Oreo cookies are at eye level for a reason.

The marshmallow cream may have had actual marshmallow flavor, but really just tasted like standard white cookie cream. If you’re jonesing for a cheap Golden Oreo with a little bit of chocolate cream thrown in the mix, these are for you. Sadly, the chocolate is also pretty generic.

S’mores are obviously best when hot, so I nuked one of these in the microwave for 25 seconds. The chocolate got nice and melty, and the cookie softened a tad, but that’s about it. The box gives no indication they’re meant to be heated or anything, I just figured I’d give it a try.

As a whole I wasn’t blown away. It seems that most of the time brands try to emulate a s’more they never really hit the bullseye. Kellogg’s Smorez cereal is pretty good, Oreo made a decent s’mores cookie, and Chips Ahoy tried their best, but it’s never the same as making a messy homemade s’more over a flame.

My fellow s’more connoisseurs will probably be pretty disappointed. Not quite as disappointed as they’d be if I started busting out my bootleg Dr. Seuss rhymes again, but disappointed nonetheless.

I can’t tell you NOT to try these, but you might want to just stick to the old reliables next time Heather from Accounting chases you around with a Girl Scout Cookie order form. Man, she’s pushy. Other people have daughters too, Heather!

Thin Mints are a classic. Samoas are too. Girl Scout S’mores rank near the bottom of the product line. If the chocolate covered graham variety is available to you, spend your Abe Lincoln on those instead and let me know how they are.

Look, the sandwich cookies aren’t awful. They’ll do in a pinch, but compared to other Girl Scout staples they might as well be called “B’ores.” (™ Vin at The Impulsive Buy.)

(Nutrition Facts – 2 Cookies – 150 calories, 7 grams of fat, 3.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 105 milligrams of sodium, 21 grams of carbohydrates, 10 grams of sugar (includes 10 grams of added sugar), and 2 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $5.00
Size: 8.5 oz. box
Purchased at: My Buddy’s House (You know where to get them.)
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Girl Scouts branching out more. A decent albeit unremarkable interpretation of a s’more. 100 years of cookies. Young businesswomen.
Cons: Tastes like a boring Golden Oreo. Marshmallow doesn’t really shine. No heated option. Pushy adult cookie peddlers. My whimsical rhyme schemes.

REVIEW: Keebler Limited Batch Lemon Cream Pie Fudge Stripes

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The three essential steps to enjoying Keebler’s new Lemon Cream Pie Fudge Stripes:

  • Do not decapitate any woodland humanoids.
  • Buy a bouquet of flowers for our country’s dying circus industry.
  • Have a questionable taste in Starburst.

See what I did there? I opened this review with a deviously BuzzFeedian listicle that practically begs you to read the whole thing for comprehension.

Though I’m sure you were going to read anyway, because this latest elven attack in the Great Oreo–Fudge Stripe War is a doozy. Sure, Oreo has been churning out countless milk-dunked slam dunks, and Ernie the Keebler Elf probably doesn’t even know what a slam dunk is. But that hasn’t stopped him from firing back with new disc-shaped Fudge Stripes faster than a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toy fires plastic pizzas.

Case in point: these new Lemon Cream Pie Fudge Stripes. Coming hot off the heels of Cinnamon Roll Fudge Stripes and just before Keebler’s upcoming Strawberry Cheesecake Fudge Stripes, Lemon Cream Pie hopes to beat over milk’s favorite cookie aisle behemoth with odd specificity. See, Oreo has had Lemon and Lemon Twist varieties, but it’s never put its money where its pie-hole is.

But enough talk: let’s put some Fudge Stripes where my pie hole is.

In my eagerness, I totally guillotined poor Ernie getting my Fudge Stripes open. This ultimately worked against me, as I now have no way of storing my rapidly staling cookies. Good thing I could eat the whole package in a sitting, because these are seriously good.

The delightful shortbread base may look like cross-sectioned lasagna noodles, but it tastes like the brown butter-smacked lovechild of a Nilla Wafer and a Barnum’s Animal Cracker. And given that the real Barnum’s circus just closed down, those crackers need to procreate if we want to preserve their nostalgic legacy.

All school lunch classics aside, these Fudges Stripes’ airy crumble, cozy lattice print, and pleasant twist of oily sweetened flour remind me of every cookie I ever bought from a church bake sale. And I’ll say “amen” to that.

As for the lemon, it’s far more subtly sweet than sinisterly citrusy. Meanwhile, the pristinely white dip and drizzle has all the hyper-sugared, slightly fatty vanilla sweetness of half-and-half mixed with marshmallow fluff. Taken together, the whole cookie tastes a lot like the Turkish Delights my 3rd grade teacher made while we read The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, which is fitting, because I’d happily betray Narnia for these Fudge Stripes, just like Edmund.

Though perhaps “Yellow Starburst smothered in whipped cream” is a more fitting analogy, because your love of Yellow Starburst will be a good litmus test to determine if you’ll enjoy Lemon Cream Pie Fudge Stripes. Yellow is tied for my favorite alongside Pink, so I loved these cookies. But since I’ve been fiendishly mocked and pelted with hard candy morsels since childhood for this opinion, I know there are many Red Starburst diehards out there who will sour on these Stripes.

Ignoring the haters, I think these Fudge Stripes have more than earned their stripes. They’re light, accurate to their namesake pie, and have a crispy-creamy combo that’s irresistibly snack-able. They’re not memorable enough to topple any Oreo Empires, but I can’t think of a Fudge Stripe that could.

Can’t the two sides just sign a peace treaty and produce Oreo cookies with Fudge Stripes instead of wafers?

(Nutrition Facts – 2 cookies – 140 calories, 6 grams of fat, 4 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 70 milligrams of sodium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 9 grams of sugar, and less than 1 gram of protein.)

Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: 11.5 oz. package
Purchased at: Meijer
Rating: 9 out of 10
Pros: Church-approved cracker-wafer marriage. A Yellow Starburst Sundae that Pinterest probably has a recipe for. Bisected pasta dinners. Cookies > Aslan.
Cons: Divisive, bully-angering candy flavor. Nabisco’s unchallenged cookie aisle monopoly. Out of touch—and now lobotomized—elder Elves. Cookie-bait headlines.

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