baby food mixed with 1 liter of whole milk

The correct answer is Peanut Butter Crunch.  All other cereals are vastly inferior.

XGargoyle said, October 17, 2014, 08:27:29 pm

baby food mixed with 1 liter of whole milk

Whyyyyyyyyy??

Well, I used to eat this stuff. I stopped eating cereals about 4 years ago. And even then it was just Wheaties. Because I'm a champion.

All of my Cereal banter is merely nostalgia. I ate just about everything as a kid throughout the years.

don't you eat oatmeal ?

Gritsmaster said, October 17, 2014, 09:43:04 pm

Cinnamon toast crunch is pretty fire, but Fruity Pebbles bathes in the flames of cereal supremacy for all eternity.


I could literally eat them shits every day for the rest of my life.

They should call you 'Pebblesmaster' but that doesn't roll off the tongue so well.

Oreo O's when they were available. They were so good, it was essentially crack cocaine in cereal form. You'd eat the entire box before you realized how much you ate.

http://i.walmartimages.com/i/p/00/88/49/12/00/0088491200275_300X300.jpg

This... amazing stuff.

Spoiler, click to toggle visibilty

BRING IT BACK

I WANT THEM BACK, DAMMIT! I've been craving Oreo O's for the past year because of Smash Bros reminding me how I used to eat them and play Melee. They're only available in South Korea and it's kinda expensive to import. ;_;

Isn't Koala Crisp a local supermarket knockoff?? I've heard of that somewhere before... Never heard of leapin' lemurs.

You're not creatively making up names now are you?? That lemurs sounds suspicious.

No. It's a less famous brand I've been having since I was a child--more stores than just one or two sell them, and Leapin' Lemurs come from the same company. C'mon, man. >:[

Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Trix. Nuff said.

One cereal to rule them all

DW said, October 18, 2014, 02:03:31 am

Reese's Puffs

How the fuck did I forget this

Raisin Bran

It's threads like these that make me miss the fuck out of Pac-Man cereal.
Those marshmallows were the absolute greatest.

now, do you people preffer your cereal with cold or warm milk? (well, not "warm" but rather non-refrigerated milk. the word escapes me but you know what i mean)

i personaly preffer cold milk

Spoiler, click to toggle visibilty

Neal Stephenson, Cryptonomicon said:

The gold nuggets of Cap’n Crunch pelt the bottom of the bowl with a sound like glass rods being snapped in half Tiny fragments spall away from their corners and ricochet around on the white porcelain surface. World-class cereal-eating is a dance of fine compromises. The giant heaping bowl of sodden cereal, awash in milk, is the mark of the novice. Ideally one wants the bone-dry cereal nuggets and the cryogenic milk to enter the mouth with minimal contact and for the entire reaction between them to take place in the mouth. Randy has worked out a set of mental blueprints for a special cereal-eating spoon that will have a tube running down the handle and a little pump for the milk, so that you can spoon dry cereal up out of a bowl, hit a button with your thumb, and squirt milk into the bowl of the spoon even as you are introducing it into your mouth. The next best thing is to work in small increments, putting only a small amount of Cap’n Crunch in your bowl at a time and eating it all up before it becomes a pit of loathsome slime, which, in the case of Cap’n Crunch, takes about thirty seconds.

He pours the milk with one hand while jamming the spoon in with the other, not wanting to waste a single moment of the magical, golden time when cold milk and Cap’n Crunch are together but have not yet begun to pollute each other’s essential natures: two Platonic ideals separated by a boundary a molecule wide. Where the flume of milk splashes over the spoon-handle, the polished stainless steel fogs with condensation. Randy of course uses whole milk, because otherwise why bother? Anything less is indistinguishable from water, and besides he thinks that the fat in whole milk acts as some kind of a buffer that retards the dissolution-into-slime process. The giant spoon goes into his mouth before the milk in the bowl has even had time to seek its own level. A few drips come off the bottom and are caught by his freshly washed goatee (still trying to find the right balance between beardedness and vulnerability, Randy has allowed one of these to grow). Randy sets the milk-pod down, grabs a fluffy napkin, lifts it to his chin, and uses a pinching motion to sort of lift the drops of milk from his whiskers rather than smashing and smearing them down into the beard. Meanwhile all his concentration is fixed on the interior of his mouth, which naturally he cannot see, but which he can imagine in three dimensions as if zooming through it in a virtual reality display. Here is where a novice would lose his cool and simply chomp down. A few of the nuggets would explode between his molars, but then his jaw would snap shut and drive all of the unshattered nuggets straight up into his palate where their armor of razor-sharp dextrose crystals would inflict massive collateral damage, turning the rest of the meal into a sort of pain-hazed death march and rendering him Novocain mute for three days. But Randy has, over time, worked out a really fiendish Cap’n Crunch eating strategy that revolves around playing the nuggets’ most deadly features against each other. The nuggets themselves are pillow-shaped and vaguely striated to echo piratical treasure chests. Now, with a flake-type of cereal, Randy’s strategy would never work. But then, Cap’n Crunch in a flake form would be suicidal madness; it would last about as long, when immersed in milk, as snowflakes sifting down into a deep fryer. No, the cereal engineers at General Mills had to find a shape that would minimize surface area, and, as some sort of compromise between the sphere that is dictated by Euclidean geometry and whatever sunken-treasure-related shapes that the cereal-aestheticians were probably clamoring for, they came up with this hard-to-pin-down striated pillow formation. The important thing, for Randy’s purposes, is that the individual pieces of Cap’n Crunch are, to a very rough approximation, shaped kind of like molars. The strategy, then, is to make the Cap’n Crunch chew itself by grinding the nuggets together in the center of the oral cavity, like stones in a lapidary tumbler. Like advanced ballroom dancing, verbal explanations (or for that matter watching videotapes) only goes so far and then your body just has to learn the moves.

Waffle Crisp would be above that but it isn't made anymore )

Jmorphman said, October 19, 2014, 02:51:56 am

Spoiler, click to toggle visibilty

Neal Stephenson, Cryptonomicon said:

The gold nuggets of Cap’n Crunch pelt the bottom of the bowl with a sound like glass rods being snapped in half Tiny fragments spall away from their corners and ricochet around on the white porcelain surface. World-class cereal-eating is a dance of fine compromises. The giant heaping bowl of sodden cereal, awash in milk, is the mark of the novice. Ideally one wants the bone-dry cereal nuggets and the cryogenic milk to enter the mouth with minimal contact and for the entire reaction between them to take place in the mouth. Randy has worked out a set of mental blueprints for a special cereal-eating spoon that will have a tube running down the handle and a little pump for the milk, so that you can spoon dry cereal up out of a bowl, hit a button with your thumb, and squirt milk into the bowl of the spoon even as you are introducing it into your mouth. The next best thing is to work in small increments, putting only a small amount of Cap’n Crunch in your bowl at a time and eating it all up before it becomes a pit of loathsome slime, which, in the case of Cap’n Crunch, takes about thirty seconds.

He pours the milk with one hand while jamming the spoon in with the other, not wanting to waste a single moment of the magical, golden time when cold milk and Cap’n Crunch are together but have not yet begun to pollute each other’s essential natures: two Platonic ideals separated by a boundary a molecule wide. Where the flume of milk splashes over the spoon-handle, the polished stainless steel fogs with condensation. Randy of course uses whole milk, because otherwise why bother? Anything less is indistinguishable from water, and besides he thinks that the fat in whole milk acts as some kind of a buffer that retards the dissolution-into-slime process. The giant spoon goes into his mouth before the milk in the bowl has even had time to seek its own level. A few drips come off the bottom and are caught by his freshly washed goatee (still trying to find the right balance between beardedness and vulnerability, Randy has allowed one of these to grow). Randy sets the milk-pod down, grabs a fluffy napkin, lifts it to his chin, and uses a pinching motion to sort of lift the drops of milk from his whiskers rather than smashing and smearing them down into the beard. Meanwhile all his concentration is fixed on the interior of his mouth, which naturally he cannot see, but which he can imagine in three dimensions as if zooming through it in a virtual reality display. Here is where a novice would lose his cool and simply chomp down. A few of the nuggets would explode between his molars, but then his jaw would snap shut and drive all of the unshattered nuggets straight up into his palate where their armor of razor-sharp dextrose crystals would inflict massive collateral damage, turning the rest of the meal into a sort of pain-hazed death march and rendering him Novocain mute for three days. But Randy has, over time, worked out a really fiendish Cap’n Crunch eating strategy that revolves around playing the nuggets’ most deadly features against each other. The nuggets themselves are pillow-shaped and vaguely striated to echo piratical treasure chests. Now, with a flake-type of cereal, Randy’s strategy would never work. But then, Cap’n Crunch in a flake form would be suicidal madness; it would last about as long, when immersed in milk, as snowflakes sifting down into a deep fryer. No, the cereal engineers at General Mills had to find a shape that would minimize surface area, and, as some sort of compromise between the sphere that is dictated by Euclidean geometry and whatever sunken-treasure-related shapes that the cereal-aestheticians were probably clamoring for, they came up with this hard-to-pin-down striated pillow formation. The important thing, for Randy’s purposes, is that the individual pieces of Cap’n Crunch are, to a very rough approximation, shaped kind of like molars. The strategy, then, is to make the Cap’n Crunch chew itself by grinding the nuggets together in the center of the oral cavity, like stones in a lapidary tumbler. Like advanced ballroom dancing, verbal explanations (or for that matter watching videotapes) only goes so far and then your body just has to learn the moves.

That reads like.... cereal porn.

That reads like.... cereal porn.

Porn has a satisfying finish, Stephenson can never quite close it out satisfactorily.

Yeah no I think orange juice is just a bad idea all around

When I was a little kid, I once had the hypothesis that cereal would taste a lot better if it were in some juice, rather than milk, based on how I liked fruit juice more than milk.
A hypothesis that was quickly found to be false.

I had the worse breakfast ever, it's menudo which is made of boiled cow stomachs (so lots of fat with little or no protein) and chili so it irritates the fuck out of YOUR stomach; it's usually accompanied by white bread, because it needs non-nutritive carbs that are difficult to digest and coke, because it's still missing 200 grams of sugar to give you diabetes, not to mention the coke is ice-cold and the menudo is boiling-hot so you hopefully get throat-sick from it. it stinks so bad it's usually served/prepared with lots of onion and aromatic herbs so they hide the stink.

@walt: @saikoro: we shoudl get together sometime to have that as breakfast.

I had the worse breakfast ever, it's menudo which is made of boiled cow stomachs (so lots of fat with little or no protein) and chili so it irritates the fuck out of YOUR stomach; it's usually accompanied by white bread, because it needs non-nutritive carbs that are difficult to digest and coke, because it's still missing 200 grams of sugar to give you diabetes, not to mention the coke is ice-cold and the menudo is boiling-hot so you hopefully get throat-sick from it. it stinks so bad it's usually served/prepared with lots of onion and aromatic herbs so they hide the stink.

@walt: @saikoro: we shoudl get together sometime to have that as breakfast.

http://www.blog.generalmills.com/2014/12/weve-got-big-news-about-french-toast-crunch/

IT'S BACK

IT'S BACK