I love a good mystery. Whether it’s the classic question of “Where’s my phone?”, the recurring riddle of “What should I have for dinner?”, or the timeless whodunnit that asks, “Which of my cats got into my cottage cheese?” (gee, I wonder…), I love being the Holmes, Columbo, and Great Mouse of my own life.

But the only thing that reels me in more strong-armedly than an everyday mystery is a cereal mystery. Heck, I still have fond, pointed memories of the Great Trix Train Robbery — an interactive ad campaign from the early 2000s that let kids seek their parents’ permission to go online and deduce who, out of a locomotive’s worth of silly rabbits, was guilty of cereal-napping. At the ripe young age of 7, I was an enraptured bubblegum-shoe, staying up late hunched over the family computer with my cousin, honestly a little scared that the culprit was going to appear behind us.

Which is all to say that a new, mystery-flavored variety of Cap’n Crunch is exactly the sort of immersive breakfast experience that can pull me out of quasi-blogging-retirement. Because, let’s just say that I think I’ve cracked this curiously craveable (and seriously crunchable) case.

Let’s establish the motive first: see, Cap’n Crunch has a history of orchestrating breakfast-aisle enigmas. First, we had the famous Where’s the Cap’n? promo in 1985. A multimedia scavenger hunt spanning cereal boxes, TV commercials, and bizarre Rick Derringer music videos, Where’s the Cap’n? tasked kids with piecing together clues that would uncover the seafaring cereal-slinger’s whereabouts (it turned out he was in outer space).

This campaign even got a sequel in 2000. This time, Cap’n Crunch was deep underground in “Volcanica,” a revelation culminating in the release of Mystery Volcano Crunch cereal.

Now, this wasn’t really much of a mystery-flavored cereal, since the central gimmick was just that it came with packets of Not Pop Rocks, but I get the feeling it cultivated a hunger for mystery-food-science-theatre within our dear Cap’n — one that took him 26 years to properly revisit.

That brings us to the towering, inscrutable box before me. As I open it, the pieces’ appearance completely conceal their true flavor. Honestly, these pale puffed chests (not to be confused with my own) look a little uncanny, as if they were stolen as raw, unflavored ingredients from Quaker’s storehouse. I feel like I’m not supposed to be seeing them.

Though, believe me, they have a taste, and I know that immediately, because they have a smell. But this wallop of a waft doesn’t tell me anything about the flavor, either, because it mostly just smells like a nebulous chemical soup — which is honestly kind of impressive for a cereal that boasts no artificial flavors.

Luckily, as I take my first bite, I can gaze at the back of the box, which is allegedly packed with clues for me to chew on while I, y’know, chew onward.

And…yeah. I think the box spells out the taste notes pretty clearly:

First and foremost, we have the crab sipping on a bottle of soda. This tracks, because Cap’n Crunch’s Mystery Crunch tastes strongly of crab.

Okay, kidding! Kidding! In reality, the punchiest flavor in this cereal is indeed that of cola. Now, I’ve never encountered a cereal that tastes like cola before, so I can’t rely on my trusty old book of adjectives that I normally use for honey, cinnamon, or other such cereals. By which I mean…how do you describe the taste of cola outside of, y’know, cola-y? Maybe I don’t need to? Regardless, it’s an, uh, earthy and caramelized flavor? Well, whatever you call it, in this cereal’s case, it’s kind of like suckling on the dregs of a syrupy Coke Slurpee (which is a lot more charming than it sounds).

But the cola is only the top, most pervasive note. Beneath it lurks a burst of fruitiness, bound up with a tempering burst of vanilla cream. The latter is clearly cued by both the vanilla orchid on the palm tree, and the big words that say VANILLA? and CREAMY. However, despite the preponderance of fruit scattered about this inked cardboard canvas, I really only taste one: cherry. It’s a pleasant cherry, too: twangy and candied, and I like how the vanilla creaminess here is subtle compared to all the birthday caked, Funfetti’d, or otherwise Dunkarooted cereals of yore.

However, no matter how much I SpongeBobbishly rub my eyeballs across the box, I can’t really find any other clues beyond those ones. Which leads me to believe that the pieces of the puzzle were always meant to be obvious, and the real challenge is whether you put them together into a neat jigsaw or rejigger them into a Gundam. After all, what would I call all these taste notes put together?

Well, my dear pal Gabe over at Cereal Time believes this is “Wild Cherry & Cream Pepsi Crunch.” And I could totally buy that, especially since PepsiCo owns Quaker and thus could be tempted to do a blatant product crossover. Meanwhile, my dear Empty Bowl cohost Justin settled on a mixed-fruit ice cream “Tutti Frutti Crunch.”

I think my guess falls somewhere in the middle. Despite this cereal’s strong, twangy taste, I can’t find anything on the box that points to cherries specifically, nor can I deny the potent presence of cola. So, ultimately, I’m gonna say…

…Dirty Soda Crunch.

Hear me out: dirty soda, as a catch-all term for soda spiked with cream, syrups, and fruit juices, doesn’t just neatly encapsulate all the clues on the box: it’s also extremely trendy right now, too: I’m so confident about this, I just put three colons in one sentence.

If I had to prepare a backup guess, I’d say “Cherry Cola Float,” on account of the conspicuous floatie being tugged behind the boat on the box. Frankly, I do wish there were a clue that pointed to the concept of “dirtiness” — unless you count Cap’n Crunch’s suspiciously unsocked and no-doubt stinkin’ sog dogs that he’s just stepping all over the paper with — but I’m still sticking with my down & dirty first pick (even if it doesn’t really matter, because you can enter as many guesses as you want online when entering the contest, and you don’t even need to guess right to win!).

Unfortunately, we have to wait until April to find out what the mystery flavor really is. But since I’m more intrigued by the mention of “Mystery Crunch Vol. 1” on the back, I’ll just whittle away the next few months speculating what the Cap’n’s next mystery flavor might be. I bet it’s Grape PB&J!

Oh yeah, I should probably tell you whether the cereal is actually good. If I haven’t made it clear yet, I do quite like the taste of Mystery Crunch. It’s an incredibly novel pairing of some flavors that are already unique in their own right. Outside of some exceptionally obscure exceptions, we’ve never gotten a mainstream soda-flavored cereal before (closest thing would be two forgettable pop-flavored [midwesterner alert!] Pop-Tarts), let alone a cola cereal. This is surprising, since, from root beer to Mountain Dew, soda cereals are a subgenre positively fizzing with possibility.

I mean, Mystery Crunch even tastes great in milk, as leveling up the hints of vanilla really does make it feel like you’re eating a crunchy soda parlor float.

But milked or dry, I must celebrate Mystery Crunch for bringing a refreshing ahhh! of innovation to the cereal aisle — as opposed to all those aggrieved AHHH!s of ill-conceived innovation from CinnaFuego, ICEE, and their icky ilk.

Best of all? I had fun. Thinking about this cereal, scouring the back of the box, and scrunching up my cerebellum to squeeze out some theories? That’s what the spirit of cereal is all about, and I knew I could count on Cap’n H.M. Crunch of all mascots to call me back to the keyboard like a siren to the sea. Bravo, oh Cap’n, my Cap’n!

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The Bowl: Cap’n Crunch’s Mystery Crunch

The Breakdown: A fruity creamy cola cereal flavor profile I’ve never experienced before? And it’s even good? They’d better keep pumping out Mystery Crunches like they are Knives Out movies.

The Bottom Line: 9 holy blessings of Pepsiman out of 10