Two Faux-reo snacks enter; one Faux-reo snack leaves. And takes the appetite with it.
Description. OD: The Oreo® Donut is one of two donuts available as part of Dunkin and Baskin’s summertime Oreopalooza. An marriage between one of the most popular cookies in history and a ubiquitous fast-food brand is completely sensible, and the donut itself looks good — stylish, even, with bright-white icing and midnight-brown Oreo chunks on the top. PT: The funereal coloration of the Tart itself is disconcerting, and not helped by a crooked and unattractive assembly-line-misfire glomp of icing, itself flecked with Oreoid dots that suggest shower mildew, that does not “match” the color of the filling.
Description. It is our belief at the B.A.R.F. that pudding should not: 1) come from Hunt’s, a company best known for condiments; 2) contain the kind of “real milk” that remains shelf stable well into the following calendar year; or 3) have the sort of blue-greige hue customarily associated with bread mold. Hunt’s Snack Pack Blueberry Muffin pudding is and does all of these things, and adds to those insults the injury of a gloppy, gritty, bad-papier-mâché consistency.
Description. Departs from the standard white or pink Sno Ball only in color; consumers fearing that the green/St. Pat’s Sno Ball might, like the Shamrock Shake, feature an unwelcome shot of mint may proceed without fear. …Excuse us: “without more fear.” The addition of a mint-flavored component would indeed push the Ball into pre-colonoscopy-milkshake territory, but the Sno Ball is already inevitably a variation on the weirdly light, but also chewily elderly, shell of marshmallow surrounding a stale asteroid of devil’s food cake, which itself contains a pasty crème filling — dusted with ciliae of faux-conut.
Description. Made by the Atkinson Candy Company (the Chick-O-Stick people), the RCB promises “PURE coconut for pure enjoyment!” What it delivers is rather more modest: the bar is hardly an entire rainbow, but a two-color top-of-a-tube-sock layout in glittery Strawberry Shortcake pink and off-white.
Packaging/Branding. A dissonant pairing of a gay-friendly rainbow and the sports-jersey style of font usually called something like “Gridiron” or “Rockne.”
Flavor Profile. The usual disclaimers for a coco-centric snack apply, but coconut lovers will find little to appeal to them, either. The white stripe is unobjectionable, although the texture — a densely Sour-Patch-esque gel cake with a hint of crunch — doesn’t match the taste profile. But the pink sections have an unpleasant pectin-y sourness; apparently, the idea is to replicate a berry of some sort. The…dingleberry, perhaps. Whatever the intent, the result is bilious and off-putting.
Habitat. Pride parades; pairs skate; tiki-themed office retreats.
Field Notes. Another effective route to a high BMI: the RCB contains 45% of the RDA of sat fats.
Revulsion Scale: 6
Description. Various colleagues alerted us to the presence of the Snoballimus in the field, including Drs. Ariano and Barkenbush — the latter of whom risked life and limb to collect a mid-Atlantic specimen to send to B.A.R.F. headquarters.
The Snoballimus is a Transformers-branded version of the Hostess Glo-Ball, which itself is an unnatural variation on the already-artificial Sno-Ball…or Lucky Puff…or Hopper…or whichever name the Sno-Ball elects to go by depending on the time of year. The Transformers version, of course, offers even more synthetic horror for the snack-cake buck: a Smurf-hued coconut coating, over a rubbery and resistant layer of marshmallow, which in turn overlays a dry pale chunk of devil’s food cake that surrounds a luridly red crème filling. Said filling brought to mind notorious scenes from the horror-film genre — Sissy Spacek, sticky and staring. Janet Leigh in the throes. The head on the dance floor in Prom Night.
The color scheme is not only toxic but baffling also. Is it intended to create patriotic feeling? If so, whither the brown layer?
Description. Turkey salad is itself superfluous. It is seldom seen outside the post-Thanksgiving repurposing-desperation period, usually on or around the Tuesday following, by which time all other turkey dishes — sandwiches; tetrazzini; an awkward canapé incident involving pimiento — have been exhausted and only salad and smoothies remain. It is never ordered, or craved.
The Foundation has yet to collect sufficient data on why this is so, although one leading theory has it that turkey, despite its superior taste, is not as agreeably chunkable as chicken and therefore fails to translate. But it is so nevertheless; turkey salad is inessential. Vegetarian turkey salad, then, is almost actively a waste of energy and space.