Author: Brandon

REVIEW: Red Baron Fully Loaded Hand Tossed Ultimate Pepperoni Pizza

Brandon 5 Comments

Though factual evidence isn’t as plentiful as I’d like it to be (which, okay, maybe means my supposition is NOT true), it feels like nowhere are food cost increases more jarring than in the frozen pizza aisle. At most of my local grocery stores, a middle-of-the-road pizza like Tombstone or Red Baron, when not on sale, is somewhere between $6 and $7. A Totino’s — and I know, I know, it’s hardly a “pizza” (but it serves its own sort of purpose, like a McDonald’s hamburger) — is $2. And while I don’t want to be “old man yells at cloud” about it, I remember a time not all that long ago when these things were just a smidge over $1.

And then you get to the “top shelf” frozen pizza. At my closest grocery store, the DiGiorno Fully Stuffed Crust Ultimate Three Meat Pizza is $15.79. Take a moment and let that sink in. (I’ll also remind you that I live in Kansas City, not on a coast, and not on a rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.) The Screamin’ Sicilian Stuffed Crust Pepperoni is on sale… for $10.49. It’s hard to imagine anyone paying these prices, but I guess someone is. But when you can get a carryout two-topping from Dominos for slightly less than this, your frozen pie had really better bring it, right?

So is the Red Baron Fully Loaded Hand Tossed Ultimate Pepperoni Pizza worth the sticker shock? Look, I cannot in good conscience ever recommend that someone pay almost $10 for a frozen pizza. I just can’t. However, I can say that, compared to other pizzas at the same price point, this pizza is pretty great.

Though the “hand tossed” crust is pedestrian in terms of taste, it supports the heavy pizza well. There are three types of pepperoni present, regular circular, what seems to be a thicker cut triangle variety, and cubed. Accordingly, each bite is packed full of salty little bits of deliciousness. It’s worth noting that, for frozen pizza pepperoni, these things carry a bit of spice; not enough to make someone with an aversion to heat avoid it, I don’t think, but something that might surprise you if you’re not expecting it. The cheese isn’t snappy, but it stretches a bit, which isn’t ideal if, like me, you go at it too fast and end up with a napalmed chin. It appears to be a blend of mozzarella and cheddar, and there’s some parmesan sprinkled on the top, too, if I’m not mistaken. The sauce tastes like a canned generic pizza sauce, but it works.

Here’s what really struck me about this pizza — the sauce, coupled with the parmesan, really evoked the flavor of a Chef Boyardee home pizza kit. You know the kind. It comes in a box with the dough mix and the canned sauce. (And, in olden times, a packet of grated parmesan and Romano cheese.) If you’ve had that, you’ll have a good sense of how this pizza tastes. It tickled something nostalgic in me and momentarily made me forget that I was an adult paying exorbitant prices for any and everything, including frozen pizza. For that reason — and the fact that the pizza was damn tasty — I’ll buy it again. Provided, of course, that I find it on sale.

Purchased Price: $8.99 ($9.99 regular price)
Size: 28.75 oz
Purchased at: Hy-Vee
Rating: 8 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (1/6th pizza) 370 calories, 19 grams of fat, 9 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 50 mg of cholesterol, 950 milligrams of sodium, 34 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of fiber, 5 grams of sugar, and 17 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Cheetos Flamin’ Hot Smoky Ghost Pepper Puffs

Brandon

I’ve never been much of one for eating something hot just for the sake of saying I did it. I don’t need a Guatemalan Insanity Pepper to make me feel macho. But I like spicy things. I usually get my Thai food “Thai hot.” I over-wasabi when I eat sushi. A little burn – when correctly applied – makes me feel alive.

While I’ve never had an ACTUAL ghost pepper, the flavor seems to have popped up everywhere over the past year plus. Burger King did an orange-bunned ghost pepper Whopper last October. Arby’s had the Diablo Dare last year, too. And within the past few months, Wendy’s has gotten in on the act with a ghost pepper sandwich and fries.

I’ve had none of these. It’s not because I’m not interested, don’t get me wrong. It’s more like if I’m not eating fast food to review for this site, I’m usually only interested in getting something tried and true. Something I know I’ll enjoy. Like everything else, fast food has gotten too expensive; my metabolism ain’t what it used to be.

The nice thing about the new Flamin’ Hot Smoky Ghost Pepper Cheetos Puffs, however, is that it’s pretty low risk — even if they’re terrible, I’m only out a single Abe Lincoln. And I don’t mind tossing a bag of chips.

(Okay, that’s a lie. I’ll hang on to it for years, slowly nibbling away and also offering them up to unsuspecting guests with a friendly, “Hey, you like to consume food. Would you like a handful of these? How about the whole bag?” Eventually, they’ll grow stale and inedible, at which point I will still have a few pieces at a time for the next three months before I finally pull the trigger on a full expulsion.)

From an appearance standpoint, you know exactly what you’re getting into with these. In addition to being shaped like peppers, they are an aggressively violent shade of red. A slight smoky vinegar aroma wafts up when you open the bag. That artificial smoke flavor is prevalent in the first second of the bite – I was surprised by that and appreciated the layered flavoring – and then the heat immediately sets your tongue on fire. There was no “slow build” here, just immediate and unapologetic mouth-arson.

If you don’t like hot, well… come on. Did you really think you might enjoy these? If you’re someone who doesn’t like chili unless it makes you weep and you end each night with half a pack of Tums, you may be unimpressed. These didn’t make me cry. They were tolerable, but even still, the hottest Cheeto (or chip or cracker) I’ve ever eaten.

Additionally, I enjoyed the fact that these weren’t just novelty-hot. There were nuanced layers of flavor and an appreciable complexity you don’t find in many other “hot” snacks. But still, a little goes a long way, so let’s not be surprised if this bag sees the next presidential election. As long as the other people in my house keep remembering to close the bag up tight, anyway.

Purchased Price: $4.30
Size: 7 oz bag
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 7 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (28 grams) 160 calories, 12 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 140 milligrams of sodium, 14 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, less than 1 gram of sugar, and 1 gram of protein.

REVIEW: Wendy’s Canned Chili

Brandon 17 Comments

Fast food sneaks into the grocery store with varying degrees of success. Taco Bell’s range of products, from shells to sauces, are mostly fine. Arby’s frozen curly fries? Awful. In olden times, before I got sober, it was pretty hard to beat White Castle’s frozen cheeseburgers after a night spent over-imbibing. (The real thing would be the preferable choice, obviously, but we haven’t had them in my market for a couple of decades now.)

I’ve never been a regular consumer of Wendy’s chili. I’ve had it a few times on top of a potato, sure, but it’s never anything I’ve specifically set out to consume. But now that it’s available in canned form, I felt like I needed to have both. And that I should taste them side-by-side. Blindfolded, in fact, to see if I could tell which was which.

Is a blindfolded taste test a little elaborate for a can of chili? No. No, it’s not.

The first one I tried was thick and meaty. There were plenty of beans and a moderate amount of seasoning. It was salty, but not unbearably so. There were no discernible chunks of tomato, but the base was plenty tomato-y with a slight tang. If you’re into heat, this one won’t do much for you; I’ve received kisses from my grandmother that were spicier than this.

The next chili was much thinner than the first. Soupy, even. The meat chunks were few and far between. There were large, acidic pieces of stewed tomato. The base was sweet with just a little hint of heat. Despite nearly everything else being entirely different, the beans were identical to the beans in the first bowl.

So, two very different chilis allow me to say this: if you dislike Wendy’s chili, you might still like the canned version. Conversely, if you love Wendy’s version, don’t necessarily expect to love the canned variety, too. You might, you might not.

But the moment you’re all waiting for — which chili was which? The first chili — the meaty, seasoned one that I enjoyed quite a bit — was the canned version. The runny bland one was the ACTUAL Wendy’s chili.

Is this a shocking revelation? Perhaps not. Handmade chili from a human Wendy’s person is liable to vary in quality; AI chili made by a robot and canned by a machine is bound to be more formulaically standard. But this isn’t a bad thing. I’d definitely buy the canned chili again, but the other one? I feel no such compulsion.

Purchased Price: $4.42
Size: 15 oz can
Rating: 7 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (per 1 cup) 280 calories, 12 grams of fat, 5 grams of saturated fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 65 milligrams of cholesterol, 1040 milligrams of sodium, 26 grams of carbohydrates, 7 grams of fiber, 6 grams of sugar (2 grams of added sugar), and 17 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Limited Edition Churro Kit Kat

Brandon

It’s always the summer of something now. Last year was the Summer of Street Corn, if I remember correctly. I think we had the Summer of Matcha the summer before that. Watermelon also had its own summer at some point recently, though you could argue that EVERY summer is the Summer of Watermelon.

My point being George Costanza was way ahead of this trend when he declared 1997 “The Summer of George.” Wait, that wasn’t my point. My point is maybe 2023 will be the Summer of Churro.

Ben & Jerry’s recently brought Churray for Churros to store shelves, and now Kit Kat is following suit with its take on the cinnamony-sugary fried-dough classic. Associate Kit Kat Brand Manager Alex Herzog recently told Food & Wine magazine, “We hope that every bite of the buttery, churro flavor and familiar crispy crunch of our wafers unlocks memories of the delightful experience of enjoying freshly baked churros from the boardwalk stand, amusement park, or the local fair.”

This is a pretty big goal from a candy bar, even one as renowned as the Kit Kat. (Also, full disclosure — I’ve never had a churro at any of these places. A funnel cake, sure, but not a Churro. Note to self: pitch Funnel Cake Kit Kat to Alex Herzog.) So did the R&D geniuses manage to evoke state fairs, amusement parks, or trips to the boardwalk?

I mean… no. It’s an okay candy bar, but those are lofty aspirations.

For starters, I didn’t really get anything that could be construed as “buttery” with this bar. At first taste, you get the familiar waxy coating of a Kit Kat, only it’s a little more vanilla-ish, or maybe white chocolatey than the standard chocolate shell. After a few chews, I got a very mild cinnamon flourish, but it’s gone just as quickly as it appeared.

And really, that’s the biggest miss of this bar; had they gone heavy with the cinnamon, it might’ve really been something special. Instead, it’s very much an “eh, if you’re a Kit Kat aficionado, you’ll wanna try, but temper your expectations,” or if you’re only “a casual Kit Katarian” (just made that up, but we’re going with it) and you’re selective about your candy intake for health and wellness purposes, I probably wouldn’t bother. The 220 calories here would be better spent on an actual part of a churro or a few bites from a funnel cake.

Regardless, I am excited to usher in the Summer of Churro. I wonder what Pringles has planned?

Purchased Price: $1.32
Size: 1.5 oz bar
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 6 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: (1 package) 220 calories, 12 grams of fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 0 mg of cholesterol, 30 milligrams of sodium, 27 grams of total carbohydrates, 20 gram of total sugars, 0 grams of fiber, and 2 grams of protein.

REVIEW: Papa Johns Doritos Cool Ranch Papadia

Brandon 2 Comments

Before consuming the new Doritos Cool Ranch Papadia, I’d never tried a Papadia. Is it because it’s an awful name, and I genuinely dislike ordering terribly named things? Maybe. It’s why I never wanted to order the Arby-Q or the Bell Beefer.

My first thought was, why not call this what it is — an unsealed calzone? And then I had THIS brilliant realization — ohhhh, it’s an Italian quesadilla… a Papadia! That, however, is incorrect. According to the Internet, the Papadia name was inspired by the piadina, a folded flatbread sandwich native to northern Italy.

And while I stand by my assertion that this is a stupidly named food object, I’m glad I ordered it. Because the Papadia — specifically this new Cool Ranch Doritos variety — was tasty.

Available as preset chicken, steak, or beef varieties (with the option to construct your own), the Cool Ranch Papadia is a “Flatbread-style sandwich covered with bold ranch seasoning, loaded with Doritos Cool Ranch Flavored Dressing, melty cheese, ripe tomatoes, onions & chicken.” Web copy also suggests, “Comes with a side of Doritos Cool Ranch Flavored Dressing for dipping.”

I’m sorry to say that my store didn’t have the Cool Ranch-flavored dipping sauce. Instead, I was given a tub of regular ranch and a half-hearted shrug.

The shell’s exterior was heavily dusted with Cool Ranch powder and was way ranchier than Taco Bell’s Cool Ranch shell. It carried with it all of the zestiness one would expect from its namesake chip. If you have an aversion to Cool Ranch, you’re going to have a bad time with this thing. (I might also ask what you were thinking by ordering it to begin with, though.)

The inside was about what you’d expect from a Papa Johns pizza, ingredient-wise, meaning— the chicken was a little prefabricated tasting but identifiably chicken, the onions seemed fresh, and the tomatoes… okay, well, look: I hate hot tomatoes. I would never intentionally order tomatoes on a pizza. But because we at The Impulsive Buy order the food unamended, there they were. And the tomatoes were of fine quality, don’t get me wrong. They’re just not for me, you know?

The ranch sauce was evenly applied throughout and complemented the other toppings (innards?) nicely. I wouldn’t say it wasn’t distinguishably “Cool Ranch,” but honestly, it was a bit hard to isolate the sauce.

One thing I found curious about the preset arrangement was the lack of bacon. Chicken, bacon, and ranch is a classic culinary trio that’s pretty hard to beat on a sandwich, in a salad, on a pizza, or in a chalupa. Maybe it was a cost-saving measure; if so, thumbs down. That said, this was a really enjoyable item overall. I’ll order it again before it leaves — only this time, I’ll swap the retched tomatoes for bacon, pocketbook be damned.

Purchased Price: $7.99
Rating: 7 out of 10
Nutrition Facts: 840 calories, 32 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 1 gram of trans fat, 140 milligrams of cholesterol, 2330 milligrams of sodium, 82 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 10 grams of sugar, and 55 grams of protein.