“We asked for it,” and “It’s back!!”
With not one, but two—count ’em—two (2) exclamation points! That’s how you know Kellogg’s means business. We’ll just forget the part where s’mores are a traditional summer treat and the ice on my driveway just made me slip head over heels like Charlie Brown kicking a football.
But who can be upset when Smorz, one of the most-missed discontinued cereals, is back? Well, maybe fans of S’Mores Crunch (keep dreaming, friends).
Do Smorz hold up to the not-too-distant memories we have of them? Memories of the early 2000s that are filled with Backstreet Boys CDs, post-Y2K relief, and American Idol viewing parties? Let’s find out!
Pouring out a bowl of Smorz, I’m impressed by just how big, bulbous, and puffy these chocolate-covered graham squares are. Though I have a feeling I’ll be just as bulbous by the time I’m done with this cereal. Yeah, there are marshmallows too, but to paraphrase Jurassic World, “Let’s face it: no one’s impressed by marshmallows anymore.”
So unless these are genetically engineered Indomimallow Rexes, most of us will probably buy this cereal mostly for the squares.
And there’s a very good reason for that. Because, excuse my language: they’re delicious as h*ck! (Alright, you can bring the kids back into the room.) These pillowy delights have a slightly spongy texture, and while this might sound gross, hear me out. I don’t mean the “lives in a pineapple under the sea” kind of spongy. I mean the “graham cracker part of the s’more that the melted chocolate made deliciously soft and squishy” kind of spongy, which is a good thing.
Their graham flavor isn’t too strong when eaten dry. I wouldn’t say it has the honey profile of a Teddy Graham or a Honey Maid graham cracker either. It’s more like the muted, grainy graham of those Oreo graham wafers you see on flavors like Key Lime Pie.
Instead, the squares’ chocolate flavor is what shines! More fudgy and buttery than cocoa-y, the rich chocolate coating is like a powdered version of the sweet, fudgy intestines Keebler stuffs inside every E.L. Fudge cookie.
I really, really need to stop referring to things as “fudgy intestines.” If you’re reading this, NSA (or Grandma): I’m sorry.
The marshmallows are nothing special, of course (they’re certainly not “flesh-eating dinosaur” levels of exciting). They’re half creamy, half chalky, and they have a little bit of chocolatey oil seeped into them from the squares.
But strangely, the addition of milk changes everything. The fudge flavor is kinda washed away, and a strong toasted graham flavor emerges from the saturated squares that swell like milky balloons (you really shouldn’t Google that one!). The ‘mallows toss in a dash of vanilla flavor and creamy texture, but the squares still run the show.
I’m gonna be honest here: Smorz are good, but I’ve been spoiled. Spoiled by nostalgia (everything tastes better in the memory of a child) and spoiled by the superior Madagascar S’Mores Jungle Party Cereal, which is the current gold standard for s’mores cereals (or should I call it the golden toasted graham standard?)
The squares are innovative and tasty, and they remind me of E.L. Fudge, so this cereal still earns high marks. But to qualify as a top quality s’mores snack, they would have to pass my personal, one question test:
“Do they taste like Ritz Bitz S’Mores, which might just be my favorite snack of all time?”
And sorry, Smorz: I love you, but you’re no Ritz Bitz. At least you and I will always share the memory of that time I accidentally Googled “milky balloons.”
The Bowl: Smorz
The Breakdown: Fudgy when dry and graham-y in milk: both flavors are tasty. But the ho-hum marshmallows mean that s’mores addicts might want to book a flight to Madagascar instead.
The Bottom Line: 7.5 dismembered E.L. Fudge Cookies out of 10
(The good folks at Junk Banter reviewed Smorz, too! Check out their thoughts.)