Merry Christmas y’all!! We* here at Cerealously hope your day is merry, bright, oh-so-sweet, and just right.
*By “we” I literally mean me and my two cats, whose best approximation of “cereal” is salmon bits suspended in gravy.
For such a special day, naturally I’ve got a special review on deck. This aptly titled “Christmas Morning Cereal” is a premium breakfast product from Dominique Ansel Bakery—the folks behind the once infamously hyped Cronut phenomenon. Apparently Dominique Ansel Bakery has been selling this Christmas Morning Cereal in limited annual batches since 2013, but I’ll admit this is the first year I’ve even heard of it, let alone tried it. That’s probably because I’m used to $4 family sized boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, while Christmas Morning Cereal costs $15.50 for a demure carton that’s just about big enough for 2-4 bowls of designer indulgence.
However, this particular Christmas Morning Cereal carton was an incredibly generous gift from the kind John Riggs, who runs a gaming YouTube channel in addition to being a fellow cereal fan and historian. So my sincerest Yuletide thanks go out to him, as I dive into what may very well be the priciest per-bite review in this site’s history.
Despite its stately price tag, Christmas Morning Cereal doesn’t overdo it in terms of sheer diversity of constituent pieces. There are just three, though they are each a bit eccentrically opulent in their own right. According to the carton, this is a “gourmet blend of Caramelia (caramelized milk chocolate) puffed rice cereal, smoked cinnamon Mini Me’s (our signature miniature meringues), and spiced hazelnuts.”
Let’s break it down: the caramelized chocolate rice clusters are this cereal’s best part, by far. They range in size from little gravelly pebbles to hulking hunks, and they all taste like richer, fudgier, higher quality Buncha Crunch. The Mini Me’s and hazelnuts, on the other hand, simply can’t stand alone. They’re zesty, ambrosial, and complex. The Mini Me’s are softer than cereal marbits—closer to melt in your mouth cotton candy or uber-fluffy puffed popcorn. But their cinnamon spice comes in super hot and sharp, and the same applies to the hazelnuts’ tongue-twisting gingery and nutmeggy coating.
Clusters aside, there’s simply no fun to eating this cereal bit by bit. It’s way more interesting to snarf down everything at once. When you combine the clusters’ straightforward crispy–creamy goodness with the meringue’s and nuts’ twangy layers, you get the cereal equivalent of huffing from a gingerbread house’s roaring chimney: the sweetness pleases your sweet tooth while the spice warms your chest.
However, eating this whole menagerie dry was still a bit too spicy for my liking, so milk is the way to go for Christmas Morning Cereal. It mellows the spice and lets the cereal’s many moving parts meld a bit more mellowly.
Overall, this stuff really does taste like a Christmas song translated into a cereal. However, the sheer difference in the taste bud popping gourmet potency of this stuff vs. a standard-issue bowl of supermarket cereal makes it hard for me to eat too much Christmas Morning Cereal without overwhelming (and honestly, exhausting) my palate. To compare, it’d be like traveling back in time to serve Waffle Crisp to a medieval peasant—though in that case you’d probably kickstart a new religion.
Personally, I’d say Christmas Morning Cereal makes a great gift for the cereal lover in your life—whether that’s someone else or yourself—but it’s certainly better off shared or used as an ice cream garnish than eaten en masse. Christmas Morning Cereal presents a unique sensory experience you won’t find in the breakfast aisle, and it shows what a “high-brow” cereal could achieve, but this sure ain’t your grandkid’s super sugar frosted fare.
That said, Merry Christmas again, and thanks for reading. Feel free to spike your Cinnamon Life with eggnog—I won’t tell Santa.
The Bowl: Christmas Morning Cereal
The Breakdown: A delight for all who have dreamed of pouring milk into their movie theater box of Buncha Crunch, but the spicy accoutrements can lead to sensory overload if not enjoyed in moderation. Take your time, let this one simmer, and enjoy the gingerbreaded ride: there are worse ways to spend $15 (but there are also better ones; like a variety pack of Mariner’s Choice paté for your screaming cat children).
The Bottom Line: 7 hipster mustachioed gingerbread men out of 10