Tag: Frozen Food

REVIEW: Pillsbury Limited Edition Peanut Butter & Strawberry Toaster Strudel

Adam 2 Comments

Pillsbury Limited Edition Peanut Butter & Strawberry Toaster Strudel

For the better part of four years as a TIB reviewer, I have maintained a nearly impeccable streak that few writers in the colorfully chemical world of nutritionally devoid junk food can lay claim to.

I have kept poop references to an absolute minimum.

There have been one or two Fiber One one-liners, maybe some vague references to flatulence, and the occasional, you know what that looks like…, but never have I just come out and said something I’ve eaten looks like poop and pretty much tastes as vile as you could imagine. In other words, like, yeah…

But like Jerry Seinfeld’s barfless streak, Joe DiMaggio’s hitting streak, and Don Gorske’s Big Mac streak, my ability to hold out from using the most primal of negative food metaphors has expired. I believe the technical term for moments like this is that the shit has hit the fan.

Pillsbury Limited Edition Peanut Butter & Strawberry Toaster Strudel 3

Skippy Peanut Butter (left) Peanut butter-flavored icing (right)

There is just no other way to describe the artificial peanut butter flavored filling of the Pillsbury Limited Edition Peanut Butter & Strawberry Toaster Strudel. That I am supposed to refer to this brown goo as icing just makes me want to throw up.

Icing is something you want to nibble off a day-old glazed donut; icing is what made Santa Claus fat in the process of hundreds of years of sugar cookie eating; icing is not, and never shall be, a cloying fake peanut butter taste that leaves you with a metallic and bitter alcohol flavor in your mouth when you should be enjoying a PB&J.

Pillsbury Limited Edition Peanut Butter & Strawberry Toaster Strudel 2

If you’re a baker, you might recognize the flavor I’m talking about. It’s the flavor of imitation peanut butter extract; noticeably synthetic, with a cough-syrup like alcohol aftertaste, it’s made all the worse by a horribly out-of-place sweetness. There’s no saltiness, no lip-smacking fatty mouthfeel, and definitely no roasted depth. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the Pillsbury Doughboy is allergic to peanuts.

Oh yeah, and the icing looks like poop.

Pillsbury Limited Edition Peanut Butter & Strawberry Toaster Strudel 4

Thankfully, the D.I.Y. nature of the Toaster Strudel provides a saving grace. Since the packets of the icing are separate, one can simply avoid them like one would avoid, well, foods that are known to cause gastrointestinal distress. Eaten completely without peanut butter, the toaster strudel is fine: The strawberry jelly is admirable for a frozen product, while the flaky layers provide buttery croissant notes.

Adding your own peanut butter makes the pastry delicious, but you’ve probably figured that out by now. Humans have only been enjoying the combination for a gazillion years*, and the slightly caramelized edges of the golden-brown strudel give the combination an unexpected richness that will make you want to start making PB&Js out of croissants.

Overall, the spokesman and chief baker for Pillsbury didn’t just forget to put on a pair of pants, he forgot to put actual peanut butter in his peanut butter and jelly Toaster Strudels.

What follows is one of the more disgusting visuals in frozen breakfasts, not to mention an abrupt goodbye to one of the best streaks in junk food blogging. It’s a shame, really, because all other things being equal, the Toaster Strudels aren’t so bad. Just make sure you get rid of the “icing” ASAP and have jar of Jif close at hand.

*approximate

(Nutrition Facts – 1 pastry with icing – 180 calories, 6 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 mg of cholesterol, 180 mg of sodium, 27 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of dietary fiber, 10 grams of sugars, 2 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $2.00
Size: 11.7 oz box
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: A fine and scrumptious flaky layered pastry without the poop-inspired peanut butter flavored icing. Surprisingly balanced buttery crust with sweet, gooey strawberry jelly. More substantial eating than a Pop-Tart.
Cons: The absolute vilest and most repulsive peanut butter flavored product I have ever put into this temple I call my body. Peanut butter icing tastes like a 50-50 mix of sweet and low and peanut butter flavored extract. Poopless review streak coming to an ignominious end.

REVIEW: Hot Pockets Food Truck Spicy Asian-Style Beef

Brandon 13 Comments

Hot Pockets Food Truck Spicy Asian-Style Beef

Food trucks are all the rage these days. (Or, you know, they were like, a couple of years ago. Tell you what—go back in time a couple of years, read this review, and vigorously nod your head at my lede. Thanks.)

In fact, there’s a good chance you’re probably eating at a food truck this very instant. So am I. But while your Food Truck Experience likely involves artisanally crafted meatballs or, say, some sort of Cajun-Korean fusion sandwich, mine was a Hot Pocket.

You know, Hot Pockets.

Bastion of the down-trodden. Savior of the late night drunkard.

Like food trucks, Hot Pockets were once a cool, exciting happening; but that era went out with the Sega, Reebok Pumps and, SNL being water-cooler conversation. Where once stood a delightful, microwavable rectangle of deliciousness now sits a flaccid box of mediocre ingredients and un-melted cheeses.

Hot Pockets, how I miss thee.

But like your Milli Vanilli cassette and your Hyper-Color shirt, there is a time and place for the HP. A quick-fire lunch. A late night when you’re legally too drunk to make it to Taco Bell. A bizarre occurrence where you’re angry at your colon. These are all prime examples of when one SHOULD pull open the plastic, insert the meat-chunk into the crisping sleeve, and prepare to wreck your toilet.

If you’re doing that, though, be wise. The optimal Hot Pockets flavors rank as such: 1) 4 Meat & 4 Cheese Pizza 2) Beef Taco 3) BBQ Recipe Beef (lol at that name, by the way—“recipe.” What??) 4) Steak & Cheddar 5) Philly Steak 6) “Hickory” Ham & Cheese 7) Meatballs & Mozzarella 8) Any of the “Breakfast” Pockets.

Hot Pockets Food Truck Spicy Asian-Style Beef 1

This new Pocket—the one I had, apparently “inspired” by a food truck—would be like, 63rd on the list.

According to the box, it was engineered in conjunction with “Komodo Food Truck” which stands for “Dangerously Good Food” and “a gourmet experience like no other.”

Per my Google searching, “Komodo Food Truck” is “a real thing,” but good lord, I’m not sure how they’d ever be okay with such a lackluster representation of their brand. (Oh, well, money.)

Hot Pockets Food Truck Spicy Asian-Style Beef 2

This thing was garbage, plain and simple. Oh sure, it looked fine from the outside—normal-ass Pocket proceedings. Inside, however, lurked an adventurous mush that appeared to be some sort of miser’s answer to beef stew. There were carrots — lots of them — and a few disingenuous peas, and some brown paste. I saw a few errant specks of “angus beef” but that seriously could’ve been my imagination. Because I didn’t taste them.

Hot Pockets Food Truck Spicy Asian-Style Beef 3

Instead, I tasted sweet, crunchy carrots and a dull hint of heat (the box brags that there are jalapenos involved). Point being, this thing tasted like a warm mass of microwaved newspaper that your grandmother spit out her mostly-eaten piece of grape hard candy into. It was grotesquely sugary and there was but a singular beef to be found.

And really, is that what we want in a Hot Pocket?

Because I thought we demanded better.

But maybe that’s today’s thinking, really. This…entitlement. Maybe I’m viewing this through the lens of a modern man who knows that Milli Vanilli was a grand disappointment, that Pumps won’t make me a better basketball player, and that SNL maybe hasn’t been funny ever. (Or, for arguments sake, it’s funnier than ever and the era we fondly remember was actually mostly pretty bad, save a handful of sketches.)

Anyway, don’t buy this Hot Pocket if you see it loitering. Holy shit, it’s bad and you’ll regret it.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 Pocket – 290 calories, 110 calories from fat, 12 grams of fat, 6 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 500 milligrams of sodium, 40 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 6 grams of sugar, and 5 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $2.00 (on sale)
Size: 2 sandwiches
Purchased at: Hy-Vee
Rating: 2 out of 10
Pros: Um, nostalgia? Cheap. Sega Genesis.
Cons: Microwaved awfulness. 63rd best Hot Pocket. Grandma’s hard candy. Carrot City.

REVIEW: Limited Edition Chicken Pot Pie Hot Pockets

Matt 9 Comments

Limited Edition Chicken Pot Pie Hot Pockets

When I was a kid, my mom chose not to feed us Hot Pockets. With tears in my eyes and hunger in my stomach, I spent many lunchtimes watching my classmates shove pepperoni-filled pastries into their pudgy little faces.

But now I’m an adult, and I’ve sworn to eat as many Hot Pockets as I want. This is America, dammit. As a citizen of this beautiful country, it is my duty to engorge myself with meat-filled freezer pies to my heart’s content. Don’t believe me? Go read the Bill of Rights. Freedom of Meats, y’all.

Exercising my rights as an American citizen, I decided to visit my local Hot Pocket Palace, known more colloquially as Walmart. I soon realized I was unsure of where to find Hot Pockets in this supermarket. To my surprise, they were not located in the same aisle as diapers. (Jim Gaffigan, eat your heart out.)

I eventually made it home with a package of Hot Pockets Limited Edition Chicken Pot Pie. According the front of the box, each Hot Pocket contains white meat chicken, carrots, peas, onions, and celery. According to the back of the box, it also contains many complex-sounding ingredients that could easily trip up the finalists in a second grade spelling bee: “Timmy, your word is sodium stearoyl lactylate. What’s that? Use it in a sentence? My Hot Pocket contains sodium stearoyl lactylate.”

Limited Edition Chicken Pot Pie Hot Pockets 2

Even after using the included crisping sleeve, the Hot Pocket emerged from the microwave with a slightly rubbery, chewy crust. It tasted blandly of flour, with not enough buttery flavor. The oven provided better results, yielding a more flaky, crispy crust that drew attention away from these flaws.

I must admit, I had pretty high expectations for this crust after hearing Snoop Dogg sing its praises in that bizarre Hot Pockets commercial from a few years back. That video deserved a Grammy, or at least a Nobel Peace Prize. I even keep the MP3 on my iPod for when I work out at the gym. Ever try getting your swole on while Snoop busts a rhyme about beef and cheese? That shit’s a natural muscle enhancer.

Breathing in the unmistakable scent of freshly-baked chicken pot pie, I was eager to take my first bite. After repeatedly scorching the roof of my mouth on the Hot Pocket’s superheated innards, I was finally able to taste the filling.

Limited Edition Chicken Pot Pie Hot Pockets 4

Compared to the filling in frozen pot pies I’ve tasted in the past, the Hot Pocket’s filling seems less creamy. Its flavor comes primarily from the chicken, which doesn’t feel rubbery or unnatural in texture, but tastes over-seasoned with a pre-packaged meat vibe. Every once in a while, I experienced a burst of pea flavor, but the carrots, onions, and celery seemed lost in the sea of pie filling. In addition, several spots inside the pocket were emptier than expected; the pastry could have used a bit more filling.

This Chicken Pot Pie Hot Pocket leaves something to be desired, and feels more like a savory pie-flavored Toaster Strudel than a bonafide pot pie. At only a few cents over two dollars, they seem like a steal, but I have no desire to purchase another box.

Well, at least I can cross something off my bucket list:

1. Write 500 words about a Hot Pocket
2. Eat a Hot Pocket with Kate Upton
3. Watch Harry and the Hendersons without crying
4. Finish writing my bucket list

Kate, if you’re reading this, I’ve got a box of pepperoni Hot Pockets with your name on it.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 Hot Pocket – 240 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of total fat, 5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 480 milligrams of sodium, 30 grams of total carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 3 grams of sugar, and 8 grams of protein..)

Item: Limited Edition Chicken Pot Pie Hot Pockets
Purchased Price: $2.18
Size: 2 sandwiches
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Crust is flaky, crispy when cooked in oven. Chicken doesn’t feel rubbery. Strong chicken flavor. Freedom of Meats. The twisted satisfaction I feel when sabotaging second grade spelling bees.
Cons: Crust is bland, rubbery when cooked in microwave. Chicken feels over-seasoned. Chicken and peas are the only noticeable fillings. Emptier than expected. The looks people give me when I’m jamming out to Snoop Dogg’s song about Hot Pockets.

REVIEW: DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza

Jeff S 9 Comments

DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza

Like ’em or not, you have to admit DiGiorno is a gutsy brand. For years, their advertising campaign has been predicated on the idea that an unwitting consumer could mistake their frozen pizza for hand-tossed, homestyle goodness delivered fresh from the local trattoria.

Now, with the introduction of their new line of thin-crust pies, the company has grown so confident in the quality of their work that their packaging is actually shrieking the word “PIZZERIA!“, exclamation point and all, in customers’ faces. But does DiGiorno’s latest creation finally live up to their lofty claims?

Because of my local grocery store’s limited selection, Pizzeria! Thin Primo Pepperoni was the only variety available for me. The box instructed me to place the pie directly on the center oven rack, warning that a pizza stone or cookie sheet may diminish its tastiness.

As an ardent pizza stone user/insane person, this filled me with terrific dread. I envisioned magma-like cheese dripping to the bottom of the stove and bursting into flames, or microscopic mites native only to oven racks infesting the crust. (Obviously, I have an awesome grasp on how science works, you guys.) Thankfully, when the kitchen timer rang, I discovered the pie intact and, from what I could tell, mite-free.

The directions also recommended that I let it rest for five minutes before slicing in, so I took that time to savor the smell; it was slightly herbaceous, but the oregano and basil were overwhelmed by the greasy aroma of the pepperoni (which isn’t a bad thing if you’re aiming for a genuine pizzeria experience).

As I bit in, I found the end product to be a bit of a mixed bag. Let’s start with the cheese: It was unremarkable, owing probably to the lame part-skim mozzarella used. No provolone, cheddar, or Parmesan to add some complexity and depth of flavor? Points deducted.

The sauce was similarly disappointing. Although the packaging proudly describes it as “made with vine-ripened tomatoes and herbs” – uh, I would hope so? – it tasted distinctly frozen pizza-y, by which I mean that it was equal parts bitter and bland, very unlike the sweet tomato sauce I’m accustomed to eating in actual pizzerias. Come on, DiGiorno!

Moving on to the “primo” pepperoni, I have no compliments, but no complaints either. It baked to a nice, crisp texture, and it tasted like your average pepp – savory and oily with a minor spicy afterkick.

DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza 2

But in spite of all this mediocrity, there exists one seriously redeeming factor: The crust. It was chewy yet crispy, pillowy yet flavorful. Just as the box says, you can taste the nuanced seasonings and the lushness of the olive oil drizzle. It would seem DiGiorno’s entire budget went into the dough and, really, that’s the smartest area of investment when it comes to pizza. Gourmet toppings don’t mean much when they’re served on a disc of tasteless, rubbery breading.

So has DiGiorno finally achieved mistakable-for-delivery status? Nah. But if you’re expecting something less ambitious, like a serviceable frozen pizza, then you’re less likely to walk away disappointed. Perhaps the other varieties (Supreme Speciale, Spinach & Mushroom, and Margherita) are a bit more convincing. Or maybe it just depends on the kind of delivery you’re used to.

(Nutrition Facts – 1/4 pizza – 310 calories, 130 from fat, 15 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 35 milligrams of cholesterol, 760 milligrams of sodium, 31 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 3 grams of sugar, and 15 grams of protein.)

Item: DiGiorno Pizzeria Thin Primo Pepperoni Pizza
Purchased Price: $7.19
Size: 17.2 oz.
Purchased at: Stop & Shop
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Awesome crust. Okay pepperoni. Serves its humble purpose.
Cons: Lackluster cheese and sauce. Still not pizzeria-quality. Box condescendingly advises you to enjoy “with fresh salad and great company.”

REVIEW: Kellogg’s Limited Edition Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles

Trevor 6 Comments

Kellogg's Limited Edition Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles

I have to admit it took me a minute to figure out why confetti was considered an Eggo Seasons flavor. I thought maybe there are some places where the snow is multi-colored, and it’s in celebration of winter? Then I wondered if maybe the waffles were hinting at party season?

But I realized that, as much as I like to think it may one day happen, snow will always be white, and party season is a year-round thing. It finally hit me that Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles are in celebration of the New Year. DUH! Gosh, I can be real a tool sometimes.

After Cincinnati Bengals running back Jeremy Hill ran me and my brother to a fantasy football championship and prize money that would make Bill Gates jealous ($400 each), the reasons to celebrate were aplenty. So with that said, screw the New Year, I got these waffles to celebrate fantasy football pride, being better than my friends, and, of course, money.

Unfortunately, the party ends there, as the waffles themselves really weren’t worth celebrating. Now that doesn’t mean they’re bad, it just means they aren’t as flashy as the colorful confetti specks make them out to be, at least in terms of flavor.

Kellogg's Limited Edition Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles Naked

Hopeful for the ever awesome Pillsbury Funfetti flavor, my hopes were dashed just a few bites into my first waffle. There is a little bitty, teeny tiny, super duper small hint of Funfetti flavor to the toaster waffles. Like, maybe 9/100ths of the taste is Funfetti. There isn’t any noticeable texture to the confetti. It just seems to be a dye, which could explain the lack of flavor with the confetti.

Disappointed, I tried a few different methods to see if I could find these waffles’ sweet spot. I had one with maple syrup, one with butter, and one with both.

Kellogg's Limited Edition Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles Naked

When you add anything to the waffle, that tiny inkling of extra flavor disappears faster than that one person at every New Year’s party who gets too drunk too fast, only to disappear into some random bathroom in the house to throw up, pass out and not be seen again until the next day. Then everybody is like, “Hey, where’s Jeff?” And you all take a quick look around the room before shrugging the thought of Jeff’s presence off and resuming your horribly orchestrated group dance to Edai 600’s “Koopa Bitch.”

The waffles aren’t all bad though. They still have that classic Eggo taste we all love. Well, at least those of us with souls, meaning that dressing them up with syrup, butter, peanut butter, Nutella, whatever your waffle topper of choice is, they will still be tasty. It’s just disappointing the confetti doesn’t really add much.

Reminds me of this time I was out at a bar and the band on stage announced they would be playing a cover of Rush’s “YYZ.” Being a huge fan of the Holy Trinity, excitement stirred in my bones. Unfortunately, it was the single worst rendition of the song I had ever heard. The rhythm guitar was laughable, they skipped over the guitar solo and they didn’t even have a drummer! Being as drunk as I was, I booed throughout most of the song. Then for some reason the lead singer gave me a hat with the Bud Light logo after the set was over. Um… thanks?

The whole situation just didn’t make much sense, much like these Limited Edition Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles.

(Nutrition Facts – 2 waffles – 170 calories, 30 calories from fat, 3.5 grams of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 15 milligrams of cholesterol, 330 milligrams of sodium, 55 milligrams of potassium, 31 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 6 grams of sugar, and 4 grams of protein.)

Item: Kellogg’s Limited Edition Eggo Seasons Confetti Waffles
Purchased Price: $1.99
Size: 8 waffles
Purchased at: Wegmans
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Still pass as Eggo waffles. Jeremy Hill. Having a group dance to “Koopa Bitch.” Being rewarded a Bud Light hat for incessant booing.
Cons: Almost nonexistent confetti flavor is a massive disappointment. Disappearing Jeffs. Having to endure pitiful covers of Rush songs.