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Sweet, sweet lovin’. Or candy. Either way.

Strawberried Peanut Butter M&M’s

This is the part where I rant about how much things are derivative now, and excessively link back to previous posts. Just for the record. That should be here. But I’m lazy.

So… Yah. They’re M&M’s… Peanut butter M&M’s obviously, which is a non-original derivitive itself (but freakin’ tasty, and quite possibly my favorite of the ‘semi-original’ M&M… flavors? Are they considered flavors?

Sure. Flavor. Love me some PB M&M’s.

I just realized how much this entry sucked. Sorry about that. I’m sitting here eating these things trying to figure out WTF is wrong with them.

Oh. Um, pictures… Seriously… What the hell is goin on here?

Sorry, sorry.

Pictures. Right. Dude. What IS that flavor? Uh…

Oh. Here’s the package of them.


And you rip it open, so it says “Peanut Butt” on the one part, and it’s awesome.


Texture: Standard-issue peanut butter M&M’s going on here.

Taste: I’m still confused. Seriously.




Thank god. That was gonna drive me insane. Ok, so… They taste like Crunch Berries. So, if you can’t find the “Strawberried” PB M&M’s, just grab a bag of regular M&Ms, a box of Crunch Berries… Seperate all the ‘berries’ (or buy the awesome “Oops! All Berries” if it still exists) and throw the whole mess in your mouth. Same exact thing.

Seriously. I’m glad I figured that out. Wow.

JK Score: 6/10 Seriously, Crunch Berries. It’s overpowering, it’s weird, and it doesn’t work. Kinda like Lady Gaga.

Snickers Fu***

I’ve had it up to here with the censorship in America today.

If those brilliant bastards at Mars want to sell a Snickers Fuck, they should be able to. Why they tried putting out a candy bar called Snickers Fuck, I have no idea. But “The Man” shouldn’t be keeping fine purveyors of chocololate-liciousness bound by stupid censorship regulations. This is a free country, dammit.

Here’s the crap I’m talking about:


Oh wait. It smells like fudge. Oh. Shit. I get it. Nevermind.

So… Uh… Snickers Fudge. New angle. Um… “Yah, hey, how about all those damn Snickers variants?”

I feel like I’ve been down this road before.

Oh. That’s right. I have. Here. And here.

You know what’s weird? I don’t even like Snickers that much. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with em, but I can’t think of any time I’ve actually craved one.

Oh well. Let’s cut this open, eat it, and rate it. Or something.

IMG_1440 [tje]

So, basically, they took a Snickers… Removed the caramel… And put in MOTHERFUDGING FUDGE.

High hopes, I has them.

I’m goin in.

Texture: Caramel is one of those things that’s pretty fundamental about a Snickers. Remove that, and it doesn’t feel like a Snickers anymore. The fudge layer is pretty soft luckily, but it’s not the same. The nougat is much more pronounced because of the lack of caramel.

Taste: This bastard is RICH. But it all works. The nougat with the fudge is a bit of an odd combo, but after the first bite, you appreciate it. Almost a mocha-coffee flavor at the end. It’s neat.

JK Score: 9/10 I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t have the biggest sweet tooth in the world. But this thing fudging rules my hiney.

Bacon Gumballs

OK, so I like bacon. I think this much is obvious. I’ve actually had bacon for breakfast both Saturday and Sunday this weekend. My apartment smells of the glory that is bacon, and visitors to my humble abode are both amazed and astounded. “Where did you get that incredible air freshener?”, they ask. To that I say, “Dude. It’s fucking bacon. It rules.”

Then we sit in silence for a minute and ponder the meaning of life, because that’s a common bonding experience among people who smell bacon together. It’s glorious.

Here’s the one problem with bacon being incredibly awesome…

…It’s gone too far.

There. I said it. Due to the widespread popularity and awesome-icity of bacon, “The Man” (you know who you are) is capitalizing on our love, and bacon-izing everything.

At first glance, as a purveyor and appreciator of all things bacon, you’d probably think I’d be on board with this. And I was. But even I have my limits.

I mean, they’re WAY out there, but I have them. Seriously. I think I hit the wall on my bacon experimentation for the time being. I’m going to swear my life to a pure bacon existence, free of gimmicks, and artificial….stuff.
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I present to you, Xzibit A:

Bacon Gumballs.

Yup. I’m serious. See?

So sweet and innocent...

So sweet and innocent...

And then inside, we have all 22 of the little bastards accounted for.

They smell horrible.  I can't think of a witty caption, they just smell like ass.

They smell horrible. I can't think of a witty caption, they just smell like ass.

Upon opening the tin, you get the smell of… Ass. Seriously. These things smell god-awful. And strong. I seriously could see a weak-stomached person puking after taking a deep whiff of these bastards. I’ve got a strong-ass gag reflex, and I can’t stand smelling these. Wow. I can’t wait to put one in my mouth.


Luckily, they’re tiny.

Texture: Well, for the 2 seconds it was in my mouth, it felt like a normal, run-of-the-mill gumball. OF DEATH.

Taste: The video above speaks for itself. Fucking horrible. Wow. I’ll have nightmares about that.

JK Score: 0/10 Yep. The only reason I’d hold onto the rest of these is to let my drunk friends try. When they’re really drunk. And need to vomit. Or if they piss me off. Wow.

Mo’s Bacon Bar

You got your bacon in my chocolate!

You got your chocolate in my bacon!

Two great tastes that taste great together… Right?



Hell if I know. I’m just a simple man, born and raised in Corn Field, Illinois.

So, by association, I apparently like the simple things in life… Trucks… Corn… Meat… Cheap… beer… Dammit. I like those things. Stupid upbringing having an affect on my personality and preferences. My simple taste buds couldn’t handle such sophistication as “applewood smoked bacon”, “alderwood smoked salt”, “deep milk chocolate (45% cacao)”, and some pretentious font up top that I can’t identify… because I’m a hick… And don’t care to look it up.

mmmm... pretentious

mmmm... pretentious

Picked this bad boy (do howdy, yah buddy) at one of dem dere Hole Foods for $2.00.

Of course it was in the checkout lane. Because bacon-infused chocolate is an impulse item if there was ever one.

Don’t judge me.

So, sliding the overpriced .5 oz of hippiefood out of it’s protective box, reveals a foil-wrapped lovefest, that’s very well-labeled:

I shall call him... Mini-Bacon-Candy-Bar Me

I shall call him... Mini-Bacon-Candy-Bar Me

Well, that explains the .5oz weight anyway. It’s Mini. Duh.

Snapping the badboy open reveals…

The glory and the light.  And the pork.

The glory and the light. And the pork.

Ok, so… The thing smells like bacon, but with this really weird twinge to it. Not sure if that’s the chocolate talking (smelling?) or what. It’s almost bitter-smelling. If bitter can be a smell. In which case, it is, because I don’t feel like being wrong tonight.

So, here we go:

Texture: Well… It’s chocolate. With MOTHER FUCKING BACON PIECES IN IT. Seriously though, you’d be expecting like baco-bit crunchy stuff (I was, anyway). The pieces are really pretty soft, and almost-melty. It’s weird. Because it’s bacon, and bacon doesn’t/shouldn’t do that. But again, what do I know. Maybe it’s some awesome hippie-food bacon that I’ve never tasted, from pigs who read Vonnegut and hang out at coffee shops. It could happen.

Taste: It’s definitely chocolate with bacon in it. Has that whole sweet/salty thing going, which is pretty awesome in my book, any day of the week. Fortunately, the bacon isn’t amazingly overpowering though. It just sort of works. And that smell I was getting? Yeah, there’s a bit of bitter in the chocolate too, which really keeps throwing me off my game.

JK Score: 7.5/10 Definitely something novel, I couldn’t eat more than .5oz of this in one sitting, you get sick of the whole thing pretty quick, be it from awesome overload, or something altogether different.

By the way, this officially introduces our newest category, “Bacon!”. Because bacon is awesome, and deserves recognition. And bacon. It’s cyclic like that.

Ice Breakers Iced Tea Mints

If I could have one of my wildest wishes come true, it would be to have a fifth nipple. I’m already good on nipples one and two obviously, being a normal human. Nipple three, was something that just randomly showed up later in life when I needed it most. Just like how sometimes, in your darkest hour, you see the figurative light, and things suddenly make sense, and that wave of calmness and serenity sweeps over you, in my case the figurative light was a literal third nipple.

The fourth one… Well, I drew that one on with a red sharpie. And have to refresh it once a week or so. I named it Billy. I’d get a tattoo, but really, a tattoo of a nipple? That’s just crazy.

So really, I’m just gunnin’ for that fifth nipple. I think it would be great, and probably get me laid constantly. It’s a great ice-breaker. Just to be able to swagger up to some hottie at the bar and go, “Hey baby… How many nipples you got?” Being normal humans, they’d either slap me, walk away, or answer “Two”.

That’s my cue. I grab a cocktail napkin, jot the number “5” on it, and slide it towards them upside down.

“Here’s what I got, baby”.

It would be glorious. The best part is, even if they slapped me or walked away, I’d still do the napkin thing. Constant tail. That’s a fool-proof play. Maybe I can find someone to print me up a bunch of “5” cocktail napkins I could take with me on my booty-seeking missions. I’d have to get some sort of bitchin’ leather case for the napkins, though, because I don’t wanna be that jackass who carries their own set of custom-printed cocktail napkins into a bar. I hate those guys. Maybe a briefcase. That I’d handcuff to my arm. Because that just screams intrigue and mystery (beyond the 5 nipples, of course) like a dude with a briefcase handcuffed to his arm.


Dude… You know what would be even better? While I’m layin the groundwork, breaking the ice with my multiple nipple negotiations, chatting up the beautiful babies? If my breath smelled like fucking Iced Tea.

That would make me an unstoppable booty-gettin’ force to be reckoned with.

And damn it, you’ll reckon with me. Between the Iced Tea breath, the suitcase handcuffed to my arm, and of course, the 5 nipples? Bra, I’d be getting reckoned with all night long.

Bow chicka bow wow.

While I may never have my multiple nipples, I can always get the Iced Tea breath I always desired finally. My time is nigh.


Anyone who knows me, knows I love mints. Anything minty, mint-like, or otherwise mint-inated… I’m down with it. So, when I saw these, I thought… “What?”

So I bought them.

They’re standard IceBreakers mints in that they’re in the same plastic (though shit-brown instead of mint-blue) case, and have the neat little pseudo-retsin spots (though shit-brown instead of mint-blue).

So really… I have great expectations.

Opening up the lid and taking a whiff…

It’s… Tea. It smells like I just opened up a box of Lipton. WTF. There’s probably a tea-bag joke somewhere in there, but I wore myself out on the nipple banter. Happens more often than you’d think.


Oh, they’re Sugar-Free too… So you won’t get fat popping Iced Tea mint after Iced Tea mint. Indulge!

Texture: If you’ve ever had a mint before, you’re close. It’s exactly the same as every other IceBreaker mint ever.

Taste: It’s…. Iced Tea. Kind of. You don’t smell it, but you taste hella fake lemon when you pop one. It’s…weird. If you’ve ever had Lipton bottled iced tea with the lemon flavor, it’s like that, only much, much more intense, and lemon-tastic.

The tea flavor disappears after the first 20 seconds or so, leaving that weird fake lemon taste afterward, but with the occassional hit of weird fake tea. It’s… Weird.


JK Score: 2/10 The weird fake flavors are odd enough. The fact that there’s an Iced Tea flavored mint alone is weird enough. Add those two weird things together… And it’s weird. Seriously. I’m still working on this first one, and I’m just… Confused. Why the hell do you want your mouth to smell like a box of Lipton powder when you could just rock the fifth nipple?

Snickers Adventure Bar

…In a world where the candy industry has grown stagnant…

Oh, sorry. Emphasis.

…In a world… Where the candy industry… Has grown stagnant…


…In a world where the candy industry has grown stagnant… Where movie tie-ins and special edition treat introductions had slowed down to a mere annoyance…


Of course, I’m talking about the limited edition Adventures of Indiana Jones Snickers Adventure Bar.

I mean, what else could it possibly be? You think Elvis Reese’s Peanut Butter and Banana cups are gonna save the world?

Oh hell no.

You gots to have some ass-kicking Snickers. Indiana Jones ass-kicking Snickers, to be specific. Something hardcore enough to call itself an ADVENTURE BAR. Something with “a cliffhanger kick of exotic spice and a hint of sweet coconut flavor.”

Wait. All this hard-ass-ery over “exotic spice” and coconut? (Yes, hard-ass-ery is a word. If you disagree, I’ll sic the Adventure Bar on your ass.)

I somehow doubt Chuck Norris would approve.

Upon dissection, you get…

A Snickers bar. Nothing awesome, adventurous or otherwise cool.

Upon eating, you get…

Texture: …A fuggin Snickers bar.

Taste: I was really hoping for something to just jump out of the confines of the chocolately shell and kick my taste buds in the ass. But, it’s a Snickers bar. With coconut flavor. And the exotic spices? Chai, and little vanilla. It works though. But it’s not anywhere as near as awesome as I’d like.

JK Score: 8/10 The Snickers is fundamentally awesome, and this is a nice twist on the concept, but the Chai is so present, you’ll get sick of it about halfway through. Go for the Minis if you have the option.

Chocolate Mix Skittles

Hello, “Curious Bystanders Who Let JK Do Irreparable Harm to His Body By Letting Him Eat All This Crap For Your Amusement!” My name is SpaceMonkeyX and I am a special guest correspondent for this entry of “Things JK Eats.”

You’re probably wondering why I’m here instead of JK. In an attempt to entertain you, JK has eaten something the human body was never meant to ingest – tofu. Services will be held next Wednesday at Knapp-Miller Funeral Home in Paxton. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you bring cold, hard cash, preferably in small, unmarked bills.

At any rate, I’m designating myself as a special “Candy Correspondent”. I’m not nearly as brave as JK when it comes to my culinary curiosities, so I’m going to stick to the occasional daring confectionary consumption. (Come for the food, stay for the alliteration!)

My first attempt to survive the imaginations of candy manufacturers is by trying a new abomination in candy combinations – Chocolate Mix Skittles.

Somehow I don’t think the marketing department is going to be saying “Taste the Chocolate Rainbow!” for this one. It sounds a bit too much like the tagline for the new documentary, “2 Girls, 1 Cup: A True Story of Adversity and Perversity” (I hear it’s the opening film at Cannes this year). Instead they’re going to quietly slip these Chocolate Mix Skittles onto the market like they have their other lame variations of the last few years (Wild Berry, Sour, Double Sour, Smoothie Mix, Ice Cream, Carnival, and Xtreme Fruit*) in the hopes that maybe they’ll catch on. Rarely do these new flavors work and, for the most part, they’re discontinued just as quietly as they’re released. The lesson to be learned here, kids: Don’t mess with the formula that made you famous. Just ask New Coke, Crystal Pepsi, and Alanis Morrisette.

Now let’s get down to business, shall we?

The obligatory “Before” shot.

According to the package, Chocolate Mix Skittles offer “Artificial and Natural Flavors”. This should already be considered suspect as it was proven in a 2004 study by Consumer Reports that the only thing natural about Skittles is the FDA-regulated maximum amount of insect parts that are contained in each bag**. Besides, there’s no way they were able to get “flavors” like S’mores, Vanilla, Chocolate Caramel, Chocolate Pudding, and Brownie Batter using au natural ingredients.


Upon dumping them on my sterilized eating surface, it’s clear that you at least get what you pay for in terms of quantities of bite-sized pieces of semi-chewy material. As you can see they’re all different colors to signify the chocolatey-goodness you are about to ingest. To make identifying the various flavors a little easier I’ve put them in separate, but equal piles (Don’t worry – Jim Crow Laws won’t be in effect for very long here in The United Piles of Skittles).


We’ll start with the Chocolate Pudding pile. At least I think its chocolate pudding. I say that because they have a slightly reddish hue, which is reflected on the image on the bag***. However, I think they mislabeled the picture because this one tastes like a Tootsie Roll. Which isn’t a bad thing because we all know Tootsie Rolls, as well as Cleveland, rock.


Next up are S’mores. Let me preface this by saying that my wife and I are some Smurfing S’more-ing connoisseurs. We often make them in the comfort of our own home using Sterno, exotic dark chocolate bars with unpronounceable names, $400-per-box graham crackers made from only the finest organic, free-range grahams raised on a tiny island in the South Pacific, and marshmallows that are harvested from what’s left of the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. We knows ourselves some S’mores. These… these are not S’mores. They’re really just sort of a generic sweet that has a hint of bitterness in the aftertaste. Generally, they’re just not good.


Chocolate Caramel isn’t all that bad. It’s definitely more caramel than chocolate, but overall this is the best one yet. It’s like a Brach’s Caramel to the -8th power, but it still at least tastes like caramel – kind of.


Brownie Batter tastes about as appetizing as it looks – brown, boring, tasteless, and leaves a really bad chemical-flavored aftertaste. Mmmm… chemicals.


Finally, we have plain ol’ Vanilla. It sort of tastes like vanilla for a brief second; then the aforementioned chemical flavor aftertaste hits and what momentary joy you had is gone forever. I don’t really know why Vanilla is here in the first place other than the obvious socio-political oppression he exerts on the Candies of Color by his mere presence. I’m sure he’s in the bag pushing the other flavors around, telling them they can’t vote, only hiring candies of his own color, and calling the others derogatory names. Vanilla is such an asshole.

Have no fear, though, because Vanilla is fighting an uphill battle for candy race separation. I mean, they’re Skittles, so you can’t just eat all of one flavor and then move on to the next, right? No! We are one Candy, under Wonka, indivisible, with Liberty and High-Fructose Corn Syrup for all! Of course we have to try some combinations. Sort of like taking the Gum Drop Trail to Jungle Fever Forest in CandyLand.

Now mixing of the Skittle races here doesn’t always result in good combinations – sometimes you get Jessica Alba (A Mexican-Danish [not a real breakfast food]) and sometimes you get [insert name of “someone famous of mixed racial descent that isn’t good looking” here].

Our first taboo mix is Vanilla / Brownie. The verdict: meh.

Vanilla / Caramel – Not bad. Edible, anyway.

Pudding / Brownie – Becomes even more Tootsie Rollish, which, again, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

S’mores / Caramel – Could be worse. Nothing special at all.

Caramel / Pudding – Virtually tasteless. Sort of like Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper, the tastes sort of cancel one another out and you’re left chewing nothing.

S’Mores / Vanilla – No! No. Ugh. I wanted to spit this one out. Somehow I knew this one was going to be bad. Even still, I gulped it down and swore to myself I’d never do that again.

Vanilla / Pudding – Apparently Pudding is the great negator, because this is rather tasteless, too.

Brownie / S’mores – S’mores ruin everything.


By this point I’m so sick of all of the “Natural and Artificial Flavors” that I can’t finish the bag. My taste buds are so coated in “Choco-like Flavoring Additive #34” that I can’t really tell the difference between any of them anymore. I tried water to cleanse the palette, but the effects were nil.

And this is where Chocolate Mix Skittles really fail. On its own – for a very brief period of time – each flavor isn’t horrible. But the artificiality gets so overpowering that it becomes Ike Turner and your taste buds are Tina. And the experience is so unpleasant that you pack up your clothes, grab the cat, slam the door in his face, move-in with your mother, and get a restraining order.

SpaceMonkeyX Score: 3 / 10
Overall, Chocolate Mix Skittles are another failure in a long run of failures by Mars, Inc. to needlessly inject new life in the perfectly-fine-just-the-way-it-is original Skittles brand. The flavors aren’t anything to write home about and then you’re overcome by chemicals faster than a death row inmate at midnight. So this one’s a real disappointment, but – let’s face it – that’s not entirely unexpected.

*Don’t you just love Wikipedia? They have everything there!
** This is total BS, so please don’t sue us.
*** If your candy requires a visual key to help you know what it tastes like, you probably shouldn’t be eating it in the first place. (Yes, Jelly Bellies are the one exception to this rule.)

Snickers Nut ‘n Butter Crunch

‘Nnnn bop!

“And” is perhaps one of the most complicated, diverse, mystifying, and French words in the English language. A heavy, heavy weight it bears on its shoulders, everywhere it goes, being called upon by strangers to connect words and phrases, much like the semantical volunteer fireman.

So, it should come as no surprise that when it comes to marketing to the masses, it’s used as little as humanly possible. And really, it makes perfect sense. I mean, who wants to have that responsibility? Why present the fabled “and” en masse, and waste it’s proverbial flavor, when there’s a perfectly acceptable one letter contraction available for ready use and dispersion?

Of course, I’m talking about “‘n”. Which really doesn’t look right in quotes.

‘n is the great equalizer, saving valuable packaging space, making things look cool, freshening breath, and saving you big bucks at the gas pump.
20071229-gitngo1 (WinCE)
20071229-in-n-out-sign (WinCE)
20071229-6363_01 (WinCE)

In this case, we’re taking a look at the Snickers Nut ‘n butter Crunch candy bar.

20071229-img006 (Custom)

Once again, in the name of awesome-ifying things that were perfectly awesome before, candy bar dudes took the venerable pillar of candy-dom, the Snickers bar, removed the nougat and replaced it with peanut butter. Or, apparently, Nut n’ Butter Crunch. But really, it’s just peanut butter. Still nuts, still caramel, just… more peanut butter.

Texture: It’s still fundamentally a Snickers. Kinda. The peanut butter is definitely no nougat, so things are a bit more gooey than normal. Seems like there’s more peanuts in there too.

Taste: Honestly, for all the work they seem to have put into this, it doesn’t taste that much different than a regular old Snickers for whatever reason. A bit of peanut butter twinge to it, but not overwhelming like you’d expect after having the thing gutted and replaced with peanut butter.

JK Score: 5/10 Meh. I’d rather have a Snickers, and I’m a huge proponent of all things peanut butter, as well as the biggest single financial supporter of “‘n”, outside of General Mills.

3 Musketeers Mint with Dark Chocolate

One for all, and all for… minty versions of things we’ve already had!

Humans are awesome. We’re never happy with leaving well enough alone (I’m looking at you, George Lucas, as well as the Pop-Tart Folks). Everything can be improved upon, or at least that’s what “The Man” wants you think, so he can sell you supposedly-improved versions of things you already know and love, and tear apart childhood memories all for the sake of the almighty dollar.

And then link a buttload of phrases and stuff back to wikipedia.

… But I digress. My point was, how can you make one of the most basic and pure awesome candy bars of ever, the 3 Musketeers bar, any better? It’s chocolate. With a kinda chewy, fluffy chocolate on the inside. There’s nothing wrong with that. Not a damn thing. It’s mighty tasty.


Apparently the answer here is to mint it all up and darken-ify it a bit. Crank up the contrast, if you will. And by damn, did they. By going to dark chocolate, and mint (white) filling, it’s just like your Grandma’s TV… black and white. Sorry, couldn’t think of a witty idiom for right there. It’s just severe.


So, of course, the question is, how is it?

Actually, it’s pretty damn decent, for being an abomination of its former self. It’s much minty-er (mintier?) than I expected, which you’d think would be bad, but it’s pretty nice. The bar is broken up into 2 pieces so you can share the love, or eat two candy bars.

Texture: It’s a 3 Musketeers bar. They didn’t screw with the basic premise. It’s still fluffy inside, just a different fluff. Kinda like when they pull the Folger’s switch, but instead of coffee, they secretly swap your puppy with a bunny. Or something.

Taste: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD THAT’S MINTY. Really, it’s like a fluffy, giant Junior Mint. A Senior Mint, if you will. Not to be confused with Señor Mint, the Latino superhero that fights bad breath with the powers of his tasty hojas. Tastes exactly the same, just a completely different mouth feel to it. If you’re not expecting bodacious amounts of mint loving, it will definitely catch you off guard. But it’s good once you get used to it.

JK Score: 7/10 I’m a mint man myself, and while I’m not all about the re-doing of everything we’ve got, I have to admit this is a pretty tasty remix. Oh well, I’m a sucker for marketing. And Señor Mint. Ole`!

Reese’s Peanut Butter & Banana Creme Cups

Remember Alf? He’s back! In Pog form!

Of course, by “Alf”, I mean Elvis Presley’s (fat version, natch) soul, and by “Pog” I mean money-grubbing-limited edition-peanut-butter-cup.


So, they’re really one in the same.

Of course, it’s no coincidence that Elvis Aaron Presley is an anagram for…. Wait for it…

Reese’s Vain Payroll. (I shit you not, I took the time to actually make that work.)

It’s no secret (unless you’re a Beatles person, and hated The King so much that you denied his existance) that Mr. Presley was all about his peanut butter and banana sammaches. What in the hell prompted Reese’s to start warping that into peanut butter cup form is beyond all of my awesome thinking abilities, which are, in fact, awesome. What I do know is that the deed is done, so we must now live with, and eat the things.

First off though, I had to satisfy my inner child-who-takes-apart-everything. Just how were they going about combining the admittedly awesome flavors of peanut butter AND banana?

A little plastic-knife-based exploratory Reese’s surgery tells the tale:


As we can see, they took the normal Reese’s peanut butter filling, and reduced it a bit to make room for the Ring of Banana (band name!). I should put banana in quotes, because according to the packaging, we’re looking at less than 2% of banana flakes up in herr. That’s whole hunka-hunka-not-a-lotta banana. *Elvis snarl*

Texture: It’s a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Feels exactly the same in the mouth, not a thing wrong with it.

Flavor: Oh, it’s gettin’ a little funky now. There’s DEFINITELY banana in here, but it’s that fake Laffy Taffy-ish super-banana flavor. Definitely throws you off at first. As long as you get a healthy chunk of the peanut butter fare in your mouth, it’s not too bad. Because I’m an idiot, I made an attempt at eating the banana part on its own, just to see. WOW. That’s some hellishly nasty banana goin on. I’d say it was clearly intended to be consumed with the PB. Duh.

JK Score: 4/10 Really, if you eat them as a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup was intended to be eaten (big ole honkin’ bites), there’s enough other stuff floating around to balance out the banana to a point that it’s decent. Otherwise, avoid.