Ciao Bella Key Lime Graham Gelato

Happy 4th, readers! The weather here was gorgeous and the snark was at an all-time high. We were slangin’ dick jokes and Pioneer Woman potshots until the sun went down. And then we made grilled shrimp nachos. You’re jealous. It’s okay. For dessert, we had some wonderful baby truffles and some of this new gelato that we picked up at Stop and Shop the other day. Ciao Bella makes a lovely gelato. I’m not sure why I haven’t had more exposure to their flavors. Probably that ice cream hang up of mine.
In any case, this is their key lime graham flavor. Pies with graham cracker crusts rank roughly three spots ahead of Cheetos and one spot below hamburgers in the ultimate comprehensive list of “foods that will most likely contribute to my untimely demise,” and if the pie’s crust is made of Oreos, you can automatically move it up four spots, knocking out both nachos and cookies. Pretty intense stuff there. I think my cardiologist’s suicide note is somewhere around here. Might have used it as a coaster for my milkshakes. Ciao Bella’s website describes it as “temptingly tart and ultra smooth.” These words, along with the phrase, “the nest of delicious” have also been used to describe my lady bits. True story. And also, holy shit, their website intro is long. I had to get up and stretch during a pivotal point in the gelato-based photo montage. Can anyone fill me in on what flavors gelato-slurping girl and apathetic blonde man ended up picking? The tantalizing siren’s song of the blood orange? The sultry lapdance of s’mores? Either way, the tag line “slurp, share, fall in love” made me feel like I was at a summer blockbuster. Five stars. I’m smitten.
The gelato is quite smooth, with a less greasy used car salesman vibe, and has a uniformity that I’m not sure I quite agree with. Speaking from experience, I like chunks in my ice cream and in my vomit, and this was just a little too smooth for me to experience the high of eating a key lime pie just like a dementia patient would. I want irregularity. A little variety in my pie-riety. The graham cracker flavor was there, in a very weak aftertaste, and the texture is gone. While I won’t stoop to making a second Nazi reference in a row here, I will mention that this gelato is a little too perfect and pure, almost like another post-economic failure nightmarish dystopia where perfection is valued over humankind. What? What? I’m talking about Gattaca, you dicks.
There is a yogurty flavor to this that I wasn’t pleased with at first, but ended up tolerating. A tartness and tangy mouthfeel, like buttermilk. Not too sweet. I suppose what really irks me is that the flavor reminded me of a frozen, creamier Yoplait, but with twice the calories and fat. I suppose I could pull the world’s lamest switcheroo and crumble graham crackers into my frozen yogurt, but what’s the point? With flavors like these, if you’re going to have 270 calories and 14 grams of fat in a 1/2 cup serving, pull out all the damned stops, make your ice cream taste like a damned pie, and cram the pint full of graham crackers. We’re not buying this for health conscious reasons. Foods like this are tasty, but leave me questioning my personal tolerance for indulging in things that are billed as high quality with none of the end satisfaction.

Marks and Spencer Reversy Percy Super Sticky Gums

On a recent trip abroad, I was the proud recipient of the ultimate gift, the one alone to single-handedly piss off all Fundamentalists, children’s bible camps, and Overeaters Anonymous graduates everywhere. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Marks and Spencer Reversy Percy Super Sticky Gums.
Percy Pig is a beloved childhood character of the 90’s reincarnated in gummy form. I say reincarnation in the most ironic of ways, for it is with each gummy that you can taste the essence of Percy. Seriously. The third ingredient is pig gelatin. Taking a look at the package, we see Percy with his hooves swollen in grief over his head. Someone has decided to take Percy, lop off his head, and in a remarkable feat of human deviation, turn it inside out and use it as a mask a la Saw, or perhaps for their own personal, Leatherface-esque fantasy. In the words of the pitiful Percy, “it’s just wrong!” And it says so right on the package. Also note that they are super sticky gums, presumably from all the blood and innards. Metaphorically, this could be a cry for help. Is Reversy Percy some sort of twisted alter-ego of the gentle Percy England knows and loves?
On second thought, maybe I’m overthinking this. Percy, clearly alive and well, is sitting in front of the barn he inhabits, but is covering his eyes while moaning how wrong the Reversy Percy is. Wait a minute. The barn door’s translucent panel reveals the decapitated, reversed pig heads. Percy alive. Pig heads. Shit. Percy isn’t the victim, he’s the killer. And you, dear shopper, or child, or grandmother, has just found out his terrible secret. You’ve opened the door to the proverbial barn, and have found it full of pig heads. He’s distraught and moaning that it’s just wrong because…
You’re next.
Well, with that out of the way, onto the taste of the gummy. Unfortunately after dissecting the symbolism behind the Reversy Percy, I’ve lost my appetite for eating tiny, chewy pig heads. Percy’s ears remain intact, but, as Keepitcoming notes, have the look and texture of bacon fat. His wholesome, reassuring face smiles out from the gummy. As I pop him in my mouth, I am hit with a sudden rush of anxiety, for I know that death awaits us all, some in the form of natural causes, some in the form of decapitated pig accidents. Or maybe it’s just a sugar rush. But then, a revelation. This is delicious! Reversy Percy is totally harmless. In fact, he tastes like fresh cherry juice. He’s not too sweet and has a thick, fleshy texture similar to that of actual flesh. A horrible part of me wishes he was filled with a sweet, red liquid. The admonition of super stickiness is not to be heeded. He feels like every other gummy on the market, and with the added exception of being delightfully appropriate for Halloween or Charles Ray Hatcher’s birthday next week.
We’re taking pity on our remaining Percies and are placing them into witness protection, where they will lead a carefree, safe life filled with love and gummy families. The original Percy was apprehended and taken into custody earlier today. A unanimous jury convicted him of roughly over 12,000,000 counts of murder based on the 12-15 heads per bag, and he was placed in solitary confinement with no chance of conjugal visits from a Ms. Penny Pig.

Crystal Light Mocktails Mojito

As humanity moans and wanks off its average-sized dick, advertisers place a mirror in front of them to satisfy the need for products like cocktail-based mocktail-inspired juice-flavored water and pieces of chocolate that are thinner and sexier than bulky chocolate-based products like the ones in accounting, you know, in the cubicle across from yours with the cat calendars and sassy mugs with neon lettering. And small breasts on a large frame. There, I said it. Prose before hoes.
Of course I’m more focusing on the cocktail-based, mocktail-inspired juice-flavored water, the likes of which is tauted to be so pure to that of its cocktail brethren that its original formula likely fed Nazi troops back in ’39 and mothered a few gorgeous Aryan children. However, Crystal Light Mocktails Mojito, assumes it’s virginal in advertising but in real life, isn’t really sure of its purity, like a girl who writes on Yahoo! Answers asking the masses if she lost her virginity by having sex over the internet. It’s about as mojito-flavored as I’m mojito-flavored, or a tube of Lip Smackers lip gloss for underage alcoholics is. It’s not bad, but it’s not pure, just as this blog isn’t bad, but it’s not Pioneer Woman, either. Whatever. In the immortal words of Lionel Hutz, “This is the most blatant case of false advertising since my suit against The Neverending Story.”
This mojito represents the naked truth of all that is evil on this planet. No joke. I hate it just a little more than I hate Rosie O’Donnell and naked self-portraits, but less than my hatred of the two combined. The racy idea that this is a drink that you can add one shot of booze to for every two quarts is unfathomably lame. Crystal Light doesn’t know that I add scotch to my Cheez-Its, so hardxcore, but no amount of rum or rubbing alcohol can save this. It’s practically fluorescent and smells like a chain smoker’s mouth does post nicotine gum. There is neither hide nor hair of this on the Crystal Light website, meaning they’re probably so embarrassed by this stint in womanly desires that they’ve erased it completely. This may be the last canister of Crystal Light Mocktails out there. eBay, here I come! I want my $5.
TL;DR, it’s repackaged Crystal Light lemonade for women who have lost their way but wound up in the same place. Screw you guys, I’m going home.

Kraft Jet-Puffed Stackermallows

Of all the quintessential summer foods, marshmallows are probably the most classic and the most ambiguous. Call them the Princess Diana of your fantasy summer campfire lineup, a lineup that also includes Redd Fox, Buck Angel, and Jayna from the Wondertwins. Actually, don’t do that, that’s a cry for help if you do so. Especially if you’ve already made marshmallow shaped Bruce Oldfield inspired clothing. You need to be hospitalized, and if you commit a mass murder because of it, my website will get negative press in the newspapers. And lots of traffic. Hateful traffic.

And like Princess Diana, this summer, marshmallows have received a new and somewhat anorexic makeover. Too soon? No? Okay. Because my other joke was something along the lines of, “And speaking of Lady Di, she looks better in the car than she does at fifty,” but that would have been tasteless and inappropriate. No more tasteless than photoshopping that ghastly hat, though! Anyhow, Kraft Jet-Puffed Stackermallows are indeed that, both stackable and marshmallows. They taste like the standard, fleshy innards of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man himself but are now rectangular and flattened.
When Kraft offered to send me these, I was immediately intrigued as with most foods, I like the outside’s surface area to be fairly large so as to have a large amount of space for crust, seasoning, sauce, what have you, so I was fairly excited to try these out. I started using these in the method God wants us to use them in, by cooking them over a makeshift campfire on the gas range. While the marshmallows are optimally designed for room temperature usage, they simply do not hold up to the standard rigors of marshmallow activity. The corners of the Stackermallows are very prone to catching fire, and make it difficult to get an even char on each side. I wouldn’t consider them jet-puffed in their flat form, either.
For the stove, I tested these in five distances from the flame. The first was approximately one inch from the stove, or as I like to call it, “The Evel Knievel.” It can be seen at the 12 o’clock mark on my 14 hour clock. You don’t know me! The distances went up by an inch, culminating in the one furthest from the stove, also known as “The Bedwetter.” With each test, I kept the marshmallow roasting on each side for twenty seconds. On the one inch mark, the marshmallow immediately caught fire instead of broiling quickly like I expected it to and charred not only itself, but the skewer it held as well. It was like watching a crime happen and I felt uncomfortable after. Note that this is the only marshmallow of the entire bunch with an even, albeit charred, cooking.

The two-inch markmallow managed to retain some of its midsection, but the edges, border, and most of its backside, were burnt and gooey. It smelled like caramel but tasted like pain. When I flushed it down the sink, I heard its gurgles of cold relief burbling from the surface. The three inch met a similar fate, its shorter ends curling upwards like the belied surface of a ribcage. It slumped and fell off and ended up cooking on one side only. The four and five inches were indistinguishable as they both cooked only on the edges and still had a soft, powdery midsection. Just like me! The toasting was less of a failure than these.
It was clear that roasting these marshmallows would not have the desired effect, so I turned to my faithful microwave to do the trick in a makeshift s’more out of Newman’s Own Organic hermits, a piece of salted caramel chocolate, and hot honey sauce. No, I wasn’t high. No, I don’t know what I While ten seconds in the microwave was effective for melting, the marshmallow did not retain its flattened shape and instead, melted off the cookie and slumped over. This effect could have been achieved with a regular marshmallow. With the cookie, the hot sauce, and the chocolate, this was a gross s’more, but not as a result of the marshmallow. If you’re looking for value and novelty, pick these up.