On one of my infrequent trips to the grocery store, I found myself scanning the cereal aisle, looking for an age-appropriate cereal that wouldn’t set me back seven dollars. Unfortunately, all of the reasonably-priced cereals were of the variety that I eschewed many years ago, because adults just don’t eat Sugar Crisp, no matter how much we may want to.
But there, at the end of the aisle, I came upon one of my pre-adult favorites, at just $3.99 for a box.
Should I buy it, I pondered? Should I, a mature older adult, buy a cereal that is clearly intended for immature palates? As I pondered this dilemma, my wife said “go ahead and treat myself”, which broke down my admittedly weak defenses. I put it in the cart, hoping any other shoppers might think I was buying it for my grandchildren.
Yes, I bought a box of Cap’n Crunch. I’m not proud of this.
I’ve become nostalgic for cereal after watching the Jerry Seinfeld movie Unfrosted on Netflix. While the critical reaction, if anyone cares, has been mixed (one stuffed shirt called it the worst movie of the decade), I liked it. It was funny and goofy and obscenity-free. It’s the mostly fictionalized story of the creation of Pop-Tarts by Kelloggs, which was in a fight to the death with Post for breakfast dominance, the original Super Bowl(s) battle. Pop-Tarts were invented in 1964, when I would have been eight years old. But I guess mom drew the line at Pop-Tarts, because I have no memory of ever seeing them in our house. Froot Loops, sure. Suger Crisp and/or Pops, absolutely. But no Pop-Tarts. To this day, I still have never had a Pop-Tart.
Anyway, back to the Cap’. The day after my questionable purchase, I ripped open the box, and was instantly enveloped by the distinctive aroma of Cap’n Crunch, a cereal that smells and tastes unlike anything else in the universe. There is a good reason for that. Cap’n Crunch, Wikipedia says, was created by a woman who wanted to replicate a recipe from her grandmother’s that consisted of brown sugar and butter served over rice. That explains a lot.
Anyway, I poured myself a bowl, added the milk, and took my first bite of Cap’n Crunch in decades.
And I was … disappointed.
Oh, the flavour was the same as I remember it. But with the benefit of age, I realized that Cap’n Crunch, well, just isn’t very good.
I am now worried that all of my beloved childhood cereals are, in fact, lousy. Froot Loops, Frosted Flakes, Cheerios, Honeycomb, Apple Jacks, Sugar Crisp, Sugar Pops, Alpha-Bits, I devoured them all on Saturday mornings while watching cartoons, the highlight of my week. (Sad, I know.)
But if Cap’n Crunch was a disappointment, would the same fate befall Frosted Flakes or Alpha-Bits (one of my all-time faves)? I’d like to know, but it’s perhaps best not to know.
Unless, of course, I can find Froot Loops at $3.99.
In This Corner 