How much Cinnadust is a single Cinnamon Toast Crunch square worth? What is the measure of a “Cinnamoji’s” life? How many of them do I hold in this cylinder of absurd magnitude? Is it really true? That all we are is Cinnadust in the wind?

Cinnamon Toast Crunch is making me think way too hard for something so redundantly simple. By almost any practical measure, Cinnadust has no reason to exist. Despite its considerable girth, at $5.48 this currently Sam’s Club exclusive Cinnadust is way more expensive than grabbing a small spice jar and a 10lb bag of Domino granulated—which, given the sweetness of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, is pretty much the right ratio.

But maybe it tastes better than just cinnamon sugar, right? Maybe Cinnadust is hiding some real magic in its “other natural flavors.” Maybe this mausoleum-sized flavor shaker was worth the brave squares it sacrificed.

…maybe.

Good news: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cinnadust tastes like more than just cinnamon and sugar.

Bad news: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cinnadust tastes like cinnamon, sugar, and salt. So much salt.

Sad news: This kinda ruins the whole thing for me.

I first tried Cinnadust in coffee, and as expected of its higher sugar ratio, it dissolved with ease (unlike straight cinnamon). But any positive cinna-sugar flavor it imparted was cancelled out by an off-putting sharpness. Kind of like a mix between salty, smoky and anise. Whatever other natural flavors are in here, they’re more sulfur than pixie dust—a far cry from the vanilla and graham notes mentioned in PR pieces. I then tried it on toast, oatmeal, and ice cream, with mixed but largely disappointing results. As before, the saltiness does Cinnadust negative favors, especially in the case of the ice cream, which forced me to remember the time in high school chemistry we made ice cream and I added too much salt and…I have to stop, the memory is too painful.

Even putting Cinnadust on cereal is only alright, because at worst the actual cinnamon in it dries your mouth out, while at best it does infuse a little Cinnamon Toast goodness into the endmilk.

But at that point, why not just mix in Toast Crunch pieces? Or buy a gallon of Cinnamilk?

The closest thing I had to success was with some warmed-up beignets. When tossed on fried foods, Cinnadust can add an accent of “cinnamon pretzel” to the overall confection, which is satisfying—but not something I’d do enough times to use up this whole Cinnadust canister in under a Plutonic year.

Like anyone who’s baked cinnamon buns in their lifetime, I already have cinnamon and sugar in my house. With the sodium handicap it has, Cinnadust will likely never be the first thing I reach for. Even if you’re a big CTC fan, unless you live next to a coastal desalination plant, you’re probably off buying a spice shaker and discovering your own personal perfect ratio of cinnamon to sugar.

Heck, you could even throw in some graham powder. Or cereal dust. Or Pixie Sticks.

The Bowl: Cinnamon Toast Crunch Cinnadust

The Breakdown: As a fundamentally imperfect mixture of cinnamon, sugar, and too much salt, Cinnadust is worth neither the money nor the gargantuan size.

The Bottom Line: 2.5 cats named Beignet out of 10