![]() ![]() The squares have less defined ridges and only a thin honey glaze-Golden Grahams these are not. But even after sampling the graham squares and chocolate puffs in isolation, they still feel cheaper than their Madagascan ancestors. There’s the obvious explanation: I got too many sugary marshmallows in my first bowl, because all the more interesting pieces fell to the bottom (PSA: shake this box up like a tossed salad before you open it). It’s too bland and decidedly un- s’morevelous. On the surface, Honey Maid S’mores looks just like Malt-O-Meal (which Post owns)’s Madagascar S’mores Jungle Party, a delightful treat that combined graham squares, chocolate puffs, and mini marshmallows to simulate a s’more’s iconic flavors, which form a more iconic trio than a first Star Wars films or a certain whipped chocolate bar.īut after tasting Honey Maid S’mores Cereal, something seems off. I know at least one of those answers is a yes. Are we just supposed to accept this normalization of “s’more?” Is an artificially flavored s’more not subject to the same capitalized deification of the one true, fire-toasted S’More? Should I just stuff my mouth with this cereal so you don’t have to hear me babble about s’more theology? But now we do it all the time, as evidenced by Post’s new Honey Maid S’mores Cereal. ![]() Like any number of deities, to misprint its name as “s’more” was blasphemy worthy of campfires and brimstone. But if society’s going to continue its wonderful quest to inject graham-chocolate-marshmallow flavor into every cake, cookie, and cake-stuffed cookie crumble Frappuccino, we have to amke one thing clear: are we supposed to capitalize the “M” or not?įor so long, I treated the term “S’More” as an inflexible proper noun. ![]() Okay, I love all things s’more, and I support the junk food craze of s’morifying just about everything. ![]()
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