For yet another boring Crunch Berry palette swap, this is still a juicy development for the Cap’n.
Close followers of Crunchian lore will remember a certain Freedom Crunch, a hyper-patriotic Cap’n variant that I discovered last summer and later redacted, after hearing from Cap’n Crunch that it was never actually produced. But then, I received word from Minnesota that the cereal demonstrably did reach at least one very select market (ironic for a nationally branded cereal). The truth of Freedom Crunch’s purgatorial existence has never been revealed—but hey, the stuff even has an officially licensed shirt! Continue reading →
That’s what I love about Cap’n Crunch: he really knows how to C’ze the day.
Yes, reading the near-perfect alliteration of this blog post’s title allowed can give you an idea of just how fast my c-c-cardiovascular system is working to keep up with news this exciting. For after a couple doubled-down strawberryduds, Quaker’s quintessential cereal character is back with a wispy whirlwind of creativity, the likes of which we haven’t seen since Blueberry Pancake Crunch.
And speaking of never-before-seen innovation, Cap’n Crunch’s Cotton Candy Crunch is poised to (somehow) be the first cereal to knit everyone’s favorite sugary skeins into spherical cereal form. This is a surprise to me at least, since the cult appeal of cotton candy foodstuffs like Bubble Yum and, uh, grapes? make the state fair classic a more logical pick for a carnival-themed cereal than…”berry.” Plus—and this one is definitely just me—the ridiculous charm of cotton candy personifications like The Monster and Rollercoaster Tycoon’s Candyfloss Stalls are just begging for a crossover commercial with someone like Cap’n Crunch.
And heck, why not throw in Scooby-Doo while they’re at it?
Though my thanks go to The Junk Food Aisle for first tipping me off to Cotton Candy Crunch’s product listing, additional gratitude goes to the kind folks at My County Market, who generously supplied the above photo that reveals the stuff’s cool two-toned Crunch Berries that I’d happily string onto fishing line to create a sticky-sweet necklace—the perfect accessory for getting scammed out of $12 at the ring toss.
We can likely expect Cotton Candy Crunch to hit most shelves through late spring, into early summer. Until then, let’s just hope it doesn’t debut with a cringe-worthy .gif of Cap’n Crunch doing “The CandyFloss Dance” from his favorite game “FortBite.”
The abdication of an edible monarchy is an interesting thing, and a recurring concept amongst snack sovereigns. Perhaps it’s the unpopularity of ivory-towered mascots when compared to working class leprechauns and rabbits, but in past decades we’ve seen King Don usurped by a facelessly caked corporate hegemony, and the Burger King reduced to a mere figurehead—as the chain’s reigning fast feudalists find the best way to create viral stunts without improving food quality.
Yet, the cereal aisle’s top 1% of the 2% has been ruling largely in private since 1968, like an old god who clings to his last few believers. Yes, King Vitaman cereal still exists—much to my own surprise—though its production has been severely stifled in recent years. Much like another cult-favorite Quaker cereal, Quisp, your best bets for finding a box of King Vitaman in 2019 are outlet stores, the Internet, and maybe a haunted garage sale.
The cereal has a history richer than its vitamin & mineral content, dating back to its forced vowel tweak to Vitaman, as the FDA forbids non-vitamins to call themselves vitamins. Go figure. While I’ve long been uncertain how to pronounce this tasty tyrant’s name (my brain wants to think “veeta-man,” not unlike how a clueless parent would mispronounce “Digimon”), I have nothing but respect for his lineage of descendants.
King Vitaman I (whom the above commercial names to affirm my phonetic idiocy), joined by the villainous Not-So-Bright Knight, defended his breakfast riches with a steely scepter. He loses respect points for hoarding wealth, but remains a people’s champ for taking decisive action instead of relying on henchmen and fallguys.
King Vitaman II, the most beloved and recognizable, earned wide acclaim for giving the cartoon king’s spirit corporeal form. Portrayed by George Mann from 1971 to his death in 1977, King Vitaman II will be forever martyred as one of few live action cereal mascots, as well as someone who could easily bare-knuckle box the Burger King and punt him off a parapet. Rest in peace, your highness. Continue reading →
“Let them eat cake.” — Cap’n Horatio Magellan Crunch
Well, probably. The origin of that quote is disputed by historians, biographers, and cereal box scribes, so it may very well have been everyone’s favorite breakfast boatman. After all, the never-aging Cap’n appears to be forever sailing in some timeless sea or milky non-place, so an 1843 quotation would feel like yesterday to such a mustachioed morning mainstay.
I’ve been analyzing Crunchian flavor trends already, but Cap’n “Deliciousness of the Endless” Crunch seems to have a growing fixation on cakes. After all, doughnuts are pretty much fried cakes—as are pancakes—so his latest variety may suggest more crunchy cakes in the future.
It’s called Strawberry Shortcake Crunch, and whatever mild conceptual surprise it brings is compounded by its genuinely interesting choice to pair Crunch Berry pieces with loops instead of classic Cap’n chests. Was this done to simply mimic a round, puffed pastry? To make it easier to squelch whipped cream into every piece? Or perhaps to nefariously lure Sonic the Hedgehog into his watery grave?
Because I don’t know about you, but I can’t rule out that Cap’n Crunch is just Dr. Eggman in disguise.
To paraphrase a notable shrimp entrepreneur, “Valentine’s Day is like a box of Crunch Berries: you always know what you’re gonna get.”
And this made-up quote from a made-up character is right: February 14th inevitably means the same parade of uneaten Conversation Hearts, shamefully scarfed Reese’s Hearts, and tentatively nibbled (but ultimately abandoned) coconut chocolate-box rejects. For a Hallmark holiday, it seems to lack inspiration.
The company ought to call Yami Yugi, as it appears to have ignored the Heart of the Cards. Or maybe just shoot a text to Cap’n Crunch.
See, like Valentine’s Day, Cap’n Crunch’s infinitelyiteratedCrunch Berriescereals seasonally remix the geometry and color psychology of each, without touching the tried-and-true flavor formula. That is, until now, as H.M. Crunch’s Valentine-adjacent Chocolatey Berry Crunch brings chocolate to the Cap’n’s well-oiled chests and strawberry to his lovingly processed Crunch Berries.
Which is all to say that if Cap’n Crunch is breaking tradition just to make us his Valentine, he better buy us dinner too, before we accept his invitation to this dessert of a breakfast. But will this fresh face make him look like a snack, or will his cereal’s fresh duds be just that?
There’s just one way to find out, and I hope it doesn’t involve kissing a sea-brined mustache.
Hold your forks and pitch-horses there, friend: let’s take it easy. You’re probably justifiably wondering why I, an admitted Funko apathetic, am writing another headline about the culture collectible collective—especially not long after my (and my now-gothic digestive system’s) recent run in with their black-dyed Cuphead FunkO’s?
Well it wouldn’t be December without a countdown, so here are my favorite answers to that question:
6. Because I’m sure whatever-sized segment of my readership likes Funko—and I’m so sorry for all I’ve said and will soon say again about the Pops’ eyes—would like to know that the brand is re-releasing their earlier Target-exclusive Cap’n Crunch Funko Pop this month, with this fresh fleet of cubelike Cap’ns likely shipping in January 2019.
I know Christmas-colored Cap’n Crunch cereal looks so tasty you could swallow a box in a single spoonful, but come on: cough it up.
No, not the cereal. And not you, dear reader, either. I’m talking to Quaker, Post, and the rest of the Elder Quartet of Cereal Corps.
They need to cough up a couple Xboxes, or at least some good tube socks (silky ones!), because if Big Cereal wants to keep bringing holiday season cereals into prime ‘stumin’ season—that’s costumin’ for the un-apostrophed time spenders out there—they better give me gifts all October long.
Seriously, is it that tough for Kellogg’s to fill my burlap autumn stockings with a gallon of grade-A E.L. Fudge filling?
Especially since Quaker seems to be continuing its streak of repeating the same Christmas Crunch art for multiple year cycles, as evidenced by this early box found by Dad Bod Snacks on Instagram.
Definitely more naughty than nice, this is the third year Cap’n Crunch’s iconic yuletide Crunch Berries variant—which really doesn’t taste any different—will be using the once amazing, but now slightly stale Christmas Vacation-style box art.
You’d think futzing with those lights for long enough would light a creative spark in the ol’ Cap’n.
So while I’ll have to hold out another year for the Elf and A Christmas Story Crunchological parodies I keep imagining—with Crunch Berries shaped like legs and syruped spaghetti—it’s good to know that if the early November blahs get to me, I can plunker down with the Cap’n and some eggnog and have a merry time.
Though it’d be merrier if the nog was spiked with elven sandwich cookie innards.
We already know that human sports exist within the cereal world: Wheaties is practically an in-universe ESPN, Tony the Tiger coaches little league, and Cap’n Crunch has played in somanygames that a human man of his age would have retired with soggy joints years ago.
But this past year or so of cereal–restaurant tie-ins suggests that our beloved cereal mascots, many of whom are older than us, have turned to a new form of friendly competition—one that avoids lost teeth and crunched bones. The bowling of the cereal world, this is a sport ironically played in a cup:
Milkshake Mixology!
Yes, Buffalo Wild Wings & Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries Blender is, by my count, the ninth major cereal milkshake to debut in recent memory. And while the Cap’n may be wearing palate guards now, my slightly lactose-intolerant stomach has tried them all.
There’s only one way to find out, and it involves going somewhere I never go without the supervision of an overbearingly athletic family member who will doubtlessly inquire deeply about my collective one year of Kindergarten soccer experience.
(I almost got kicked off the team for trying to tickle other kids too much. True story.)
