let’s get crazy: pop-tart addition

In life, we have come to recognize our embarrassing enjoyments as “guilty pleasures.”  They range from reruns of Degrassi and As Told By Ginger (mine), the new Bangerz album (also mine), to gimmicky and highly processed foods. (Ding ding ding! Cookie dough oreos, anyone?)

The latter of these three came to me early in life, with a boxed breakfast pastry also known as the Pop-Tart.  If you’re an American, you know what a Pop-Tart is.  They come in a variety of flavors and colors, each one seemingly more enticing than the next.  While I don’t remember how this treat originally came into my life, I do have a handful of memories that specific Pop-Tart flavors undoubtedly trigger. In high school, when I found out the calorie content and became a lunatic-no-longer-fun-healthy-girl-Nazi, I shoved the Pop-Tarts out of my mental pantry and the relationship took a brief pause.  Since then, I have walked past them in the grocery store, wanting to send them a drunken text saying “mith u, emoji sad face,” hoping that we could reveal our true feelings and return into one another’s lives.  When it comes to Pop-Tarts, this is “our song.”

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to say, that after many years of a tortured relationship, I have revisited the gluten, calorie, and artificial flavor layered delicacy and that we are doing just fine. I soberly approached the Pop-Tart section of the grocery store, selected six different boxes, and took them all home to my kitchen table. 

Despite the intimacy of the interaction, I will diverge details. If there is any evidence that food contributes to sensory memory, the proof is in the Pop-Tart.  I invited my brother, Aaron, to join in on the fun,and to provide a second palate.   The Pop-Tarts lay spread on our glass table, mason jars with milk to sip on in between each flavor. So here we are, dear friends.  I have analyzed and romanticized the Pop-Tarts, and oh-oh-oh, the reunion was sweet indeed. 

Aaron and I started with traditional Strawberry Frosted. To me, these pretty much lay the groundwork for what a Pop-Tart needs to be. Sugary, frosted, and with some sort of gooey interior. It was a good one to start with, as it reminded me of the classic Pop-Tart characteristics. Crunchy frosting, tart jamminess. I was happy. I also adore the coloring on this pastry; the rainbow sprinkles scream innocence and American Girl birthday parties. Aaron preferred heated; I enjoyed room temp. Something about a room-temperature classic Strawberry Pop-Tart that spelled out childhood. 

Tart #2 was Strawberry Unfrosted. I can hear you all now: “Amanda, WHY, would you even bother with a non-frosted Pop-Tart?” I agree, everyone. Totally. That is, unless you COVER SAID TART WITH A THICK LAYER OF BUTTER. This is how Aaron eats his Pop-Tarts nowadays. Says it makes them feel more breakfasty, and I respect his choice. The butter was good. Some cinnamon or salt would have been nice as well. However, this Pop-Tart is completely useless if you choose not to heat it and use the butter method.

This next one I was very excited about. Too excited to snap a picture, I immediately dug in. The Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop-Tart seems to be the most beloved throughout fellow Americans. I haven’t had one since childhood, but I remember eating them hot over a plastic tablecloth at my grandparents house or out of the packet as a snack at the local pool.  Part of me feared returning to the tart, concerned that I would not love them as much and thus ruining my memory of it’s lovely taste. This was not the case.   This Pop-Tart is dank.  As soon as you tear open the foil, you can smell the cinnamon in that thick painting of frosting. We broke it in half, and were greeted with the brown, sandy gold that remained within.   This frosting was thicker than the strawberry, and could be broken off into slabs and savored individually. Toasted, they were even better.  Aaron referred to these as his “high school Pop-Tarts,” and had stopped eating them due to an overkill. He has now decided to return to the flavor. (And guess what, people? There is actually CINNAMON and MOLASSES in the ingredients. Along with, 300 unpronounceable things, but whatever.)

We move to Wildberry. I don’t think this is one of the more popular flavors, but I bought it because this is one of the varities I remember having in my pantry pretty consistently throughout youth. Right away, this tart screams 90s. Visually, it triggers memories of neon leggings, Reptar, and Bop-It. It tastes like elementary school.  This is the Pop-Tart Aaron and I ate while laying facedown in front of an episode of The Wild Thornberries or on family beach trips to the Outer Banks.  It doesn’t need to be heated, and it was good.

This is one the I was most excited for. I never ate the S’mores Pop-Tart during childhood; I remember it from college. My freshman year roommate always had them, and if I wanted one, she would happily share. I last had one during the PA Renn Faire beach trip, where I roomed with Hannah, Kate, and Brett. We brought a cardboard box full of our favorite goodies, and Brett supplied three different flavors of Pop-Tarts. When we wanted to escape into our sacred Four-Dom, we camped out in the superbed (two doubl beds pushed together), turned on Sex and the City, and ate Pop-Tarts. 

S’mores did not fail to disappoint. This tart was so so so good, I almost feel dirty writing about it.  It smells like hot chocolate. It tastes like you’re being seduced (you probably are.) It’s delicious. Unheated. Plain. It’s just really really good.

Ugh. I feel sad ending on this one. Our last Pop-Tart was Cookies and Cream. I normally love cookies and cream flavored things. Oreos, ice cream, pretend-healthy protein bars…But this tart was nothing to write home about.  Pop-Tart crust should not be that bitter, and the layer of white frosting should not be that thin. Shame on you, Cookies and Cream, Pop-Tart. Shame.  

Andddd…..This was the final conclusion…

Aaron-Brown Sugar, Strawberry Unfrosted (with butter), Wildberry.

Amanda-S’mores, Brown Sugar, Strawberry. 

So there you have it, dear friends.  After the tasting, I desperately needed a cup of ginger tea to calm my tummy, and Aaron dashed upstairs to brush his teeth. I have still yet to try the Cookie Dough or revisit the Cherry, but those two will come in due time. As for now, I can say that Pop-Tarts and I are old friends who will see one another sporadically, spending hours catching up and savoring every moment.