Crunch: A Survey of Childhood Breakfast Cereals

Some believe that breakfast is the most important meal of the day. It’s the repast that fuels the brain, revs the metabolic engine, and charts the course for the rest of the day. However, breakfast in my family when I was growing up was catch-as catch-can at best. If it was an early call to make a 7:00 marching band rehearsal, breakfast found my dad, Martin, at the stove ready to vulcanize an egg or two in a small scorched frying pan. Sometimes on weekends, pancakes or waffles were cranked out for the Gaiser hoard. The syrup was made using the same one-to-four ratio of sugar to water that I now mix up for the hummingbird feeders, topped off by a dash of imitation maple flavoring from a small brown bottle that looked eerily like the mercurochrome in the medicine cabinet. Perish the thought of mixing the two up.

If breakfast wasn’t eggs or waffles, it was cereal. Not boxes of the fancy brand names, but large clear plastic bags of puffed rice or puffed wheat, the size of state fair cotton candy. Milk, of course, was required. Early on, the milk was powdered. At least it was cold.

With any cereal, texture mattered. Specifically, the ability of the cereal in question to withstand the fluid dynamic properties of adding milk to the bowl. Velocity of intake, as in how fast you ate the cereal once the milk was added, was of the essence. Too much time taken and your bowl of puffed rice morphed into something resembling a mass of small wiggling white grubs found under a rock in the forest. 

Packaging with cereals was as important as the contents, if not more so. Beyond the cotton candy bags, most of the cereals came in 12-14 ounce boxes. Now, of course, there are Yugo boxes if you shop at Sam’s or Costco. But my favorite cereal boxes back in the day were the small individual ones that you could open and pour milk directly into. No surprise they cost considerably more, so I only had them at friends’ houses.

Aside from packaging, the cereals of my youth fell into two general categories: kid’s cereals with sugar and grown up offerings without. But the latter actually required sugar to make them palatable. Otherwise, some form of suffering was involved when eating them. Meanwhile, with the kid’s camp, sugar made the cereals actually enjoyable to eat and helped them stay crunchy longer in the bowl once milk was added. With all that in mind, here’s a survey of cereals from my youth.

Grown up cereals

Consisted of various offerings created for adults whose taste buds had hopefully evolved beyond the sugar addiction of youth to the bitterness of coffee and full frontal assault of Scotch.

Cornflakes: I seem to recall Martin liking corn flakes. Mind you we rarely put out the coin for brand names like Kellogg’s. Regardless, my memories of corn flakes are of bowls filled with a soggy brown morass. The texture was similar to a finely gummed manilla envelope.

Shredded wheat: must have been inspired by baling hay. Same look, same texture, and probably the same gustatory experience—at least for cows. Oddly enough, even though the density approached asbestos insulation, the large blocks of shredded wheat strands turned soggy faster than you could believe. The challenge was chopping them up into manageable bites before they disintegrated into the milk. At least the small shredded wheat squares could be ingested quickly enough before getting gooey. Then there was Frosted Mini-Wheats, which were actually good.

Wheaties: The only thing going for Wheaties were the cool photos of athletes on the front of the box. Otherwise, it was a variation of the soggy corn flakes syndrome. But it was supposedly healthier because it was wheat and not corn. 

Cheerios: managed to almost bridge the gap between grown up and kid’s cereals. I think it’s because oats have some inherent sweetness to them. The little toasted O’s also managed to float in milk and not get soggy within 30 seconds. Special mention must be made of Honey Nut Cheerios, which could be my favorite cereal these days.

Kid’s Cereals

Here, sugar was the holy sacrament. However, with ever-increasing pressure from parent’s groups and consumer health lobbies over the years, practically all my childhood favorites have been rebranded, neutered, and made to appear healthier.

Rice Krispies: a rare kid’s cereal without noticeable added sugar. Here three adorable little scamps named Snap, Crackle, and Pop adorned the front of the box, promising a slice of cereal heaven—but only if sugar and fruit were added. In reality, Rice Krispies were decent. But Rice Krispies Treats made from a quick recipe on the back of the box were delicious. Sweet, chewy, and crunchy—the actual original names of the impish trio. I just made that up.

Sugar Smacks: shiny nuggets of puffed wheat coated with sugar that could withstand a gallon of milk or a direct hit from a tactical weapon. Sadly, like all the rest of the kid’s cereals from the halcyon days of my youth, public outcry against too much sugar in kids ‘in the 1980s resulted in the cereal being rebranded as Honey Smacks. During the 90s, the company went further by renaming the cereal “Smacks” to keep up with popular culture of the time.

Sugar Crisp: another sweet puffed wheat entry and arguably my favorite cereal as a kid with famed mascot Sugar Bear and his catch phrase "Can't get enough of that Sugar Crisp." Over the years, Post has tried to rebrand the cereal with various names including Super Sugar Crisp, Super Golden Crisp, and Golden Crisp, all in an effort to appease the health-conscious gods. For the record, the Canadians still call it Sugar Crisp. At least they have some common sense.

Sugar Pops: another childhood favorite because it was sweet and impervious to milk-induced swampiness in the bowl. It was also touted as being healthy with seven added vitamins and minerals. Sadly, like many of its contemporaries, Sugar Pops went the way of the dodo in terms of branding, being renamed Sugar Corn Pops in 1978 and Corn Pops in 1984. The final nail on the coffin was the name being changed simply to Pops in 2006. When that didn’t fly right with the kids, it was changed back to Corn Pops. By then, no one cared.

Sugar Frosted Flakes: The perfect solution to the soggy cereal dilemma. Blast the flakes with so much li quified sugar that they crystalize. And let’s not forget Tony the Tiger, arguably the best spokes-creature for cereal ever to come out of Madison Avenue. They were indeed grrrreat! However, Tony didn’t escape the anti-sugar madness with the cereal now called Frosted Flakes. Sigh.

Raisin Bran: without added sugar, all the raisins on planet earth couldn’t save this cereal. But a little dusting of the sweet stuff made the bran flakes temporarily impervious to the soggy factor. But it’s not like you had forever to eat it. At least the raisins were tasty. 

Not-So-Honorable Mentions

There were other cereals in the kid’s camp that didn’t pass muster for various reasons including a hazardous texture or flavors that were downright cloying.

Lucky Charms: Even as a kid I didn’t like leprechauns, which is odd given that my heritage is supposedly 98% Irish. As for the cereal, it had to be eaten quickly. Not because it was too sweet, but because the marshmallow bits turned soggy instantly, changing the texture to something similar to when you throw up in your mouth.

Captain Crunch: another kiddie favorite I couldn’t stand. This despite the cereal having a pirate for a mascot, named Captain LaFoote. But it was the cereal itself that punished, with razor-sharp bits that lacerated the inside of your mouth. A few bites of the Captain made you pine for the sogginess of corn flakes.

Apple Jacks: surely the worst-flavored cereal ever invented, with faux Johnny Appleseed essence and Chernobyl engineering. Just give me the red dye No. 99, already.

Coda

These days my son Patrick is the biggest breakfast cereal fan in the house. We either opt for known brands like Honey Nut Cheerios when we shop at Albertsons, or hippie cereals that cost far too much when we go to Sprouts. With the latter, the last time we darkened the cereal aisle, Patrick reached for a box of gluten-free-vegan-paleo-crunch that costs $9.99. I quickly put the kibosh on that. We opted for a $5.99 box of sunshine-vanilla-corn bits. And we felt healthier for it—but maybe not wiser. Otherwise, there’s one more thing. Could you pass the Sugar Smacks, please?

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