My Journey with Magic Spoon: A Cereal Retrospective
A look back on breakfasts past. — Magic Spoon
As a child growing up in America, you couldn’t hear the word “breakfast” without in some part evoking the image of “cereal”. That saccharine, pop art, hyper marketed allure was the perfect recipe to worm its way into the eyes, hearts, and moreover, stomachs of kids in just about every household.
Cereal boxes were little gems that brightened up your mornings. The vibrant locked your eyes onto each mascot. Sam, Tony, Lucky, Buzz, the falsely-portrayed-naval-officer Capn’n Crunch. These were familiar faces. Familiar characters. Household names on par with Mickey Mouse and Pikachu (as far as I’m concerned). Depending on the product, each box would have things to discover on the back. Mazes, trivia, word games, puzzles. There was some sort of activity to do as you ravenously shoveled heaps of strawberry sugar smacks or whatever into your developing body like a pre-diabetic landfill.
How far we have fallen in the eyes of Ceres.
My mom did the best that she could to raise us with an appreciation for healthy and unprocessed foods. As I grew older, those teachings certainly stuck with me, considering my insistence on making most of my pantry staples, save for noodles and pasta, from scratch.
But surely enough, the insistence of my older brother and I, no doubt citing the old '“but so and so friend” or “so and so neighbor’s kids eat cereal” defense would break down my mother’s walls from time to time. The pressures of being a parent, huh?
The classic General Mills and Kellogg’s affairs were by all accounts a rarity even still. No, for us the healthy middle ground that we reached was somewhere between Quaker Oatmeal Squares and the offerings in Whole Foods (looking at you, Gorilla Munch). Honey Bunches of Oats was also a huge contender in that category.
Even when I did have cereal, it was for the most part the “healthier” kind. at least in accordance to buying into companies’ marketing strategies. Seriously, look up Honey Bunches of Oats right now. Past the veneer of its title, even that is still crammed full of sugar and severely lacking in a considerable offering of proteins and fiber. Too often the cereal market leans heavy on the honey, light on the oats.
When I got my first paycheck working a shit job (but what first job isn’t?) at my local grocery store, I walked straight over to the cereal aisle. I’d worked hard. My back hurt (too much for a 16-year-old). I’d earned this. This was an indulgence that I could allow myself. A quasi-foray into adulthood. Or a fleeting grasp at a bygone youth. Not sure which.
I bought four boxes. Blueberry and strawberry Frosted Mini Wheats (my personal mainstream favorite), a sampling of French Toast Crunch which they had recently revived from its brief stint in the ‘90s and that I was curious about. A note on that: French Toast Crunch should have died in the ‘90s. Stick with the original. The last box was one of Oreo O’s. Again, curiosity. Again, stick with the original. A cereal looking to approximate an already impossibly processed product is two degrees far too removed from our reality. Apparently that separation results in a stale, cardboardy aftertaste.
My father used to commute into the city for work. On occasion I would see him come back late at night, 9 or 10 PM, exhausted. He would say hi to us kids, give my mother a kiss on the cheek, and sit at the dinner table, still in his dress shirt and tie, and pour himself a bowl of Cheerios. There’s just something about that nostalgic comfort that doesn’t leave you.
To date, you can still find Cheerios (plain) in my parents’ house. A single box’s worth, sometimes repurposed into a separate container. An emergency snack and safety blanket after a particularly long day.
Looking now to my right, I see that one of my roommates has purchased a box of Cheerios for the apartment. Multi Grain.
Despite it not having a grasp on my life, or perhaps despite my claims to the contrary, the grain goddess’s sugar-corrupted beckoning inevitably rears its head. If ever there was any doubt as to the insidious nature of good marketing. The Frosted Flakes call-and-response chant will never leave me…that’s grrrrreat.
Adulthood is a tray of homemade granola.
I think that my formal transition into adulthood is solidified by granola. From the hollow, dolled-up and empty promises of o-shaped grains to the actually hunger-curbing, guiltless and textured crunch of oats.
The natural path of my life has gone from extra sugary cereals to less sugary cereals, from store-bought granola to homemade. Nowadays I make my own cereal. I’d earned that. And not just as an indulgence.
Though at our best we are only human. Seeking a regressive comfort is perhaps inevitable in our lives. So we reach out, grasping.
Magic Spoon came to my attention through its own, comparably less aggressive marketing across a number of my regular podcasts. Describing themselves as “cereal for adults” and offering “healthy cereal that is too good to be true,” there was still that childlike part of me that had to know.
After cross-referencing the company’s site and several reviewer sources, it seemed that Magic Spoon had by all accounts done what they had claimed. Their unique cereal blend is protein-rich, carb light, grain free, gluten free, and contains zero grams of added sugar. As to the nature of this seeming witchcraft, the structure of their cereal rings can be attributed to…honestly let me just copy over their own base ingredient list:
Milk Protein Blend (Casein, Whey Protein Concentrate), Sweetener Blend (Allulose, Monk Fruit Extract), Oil Blend (High Oleic Sunflower Oil, Avocado Oil), Tapioca Starch, Chicory Root Inulin, Natural Flavor(s), Salt.
This recipe (which at the time of writing is their version 2.0 blend, eliminating the unfavorable usage of stevia among other changes) is used as the foundation for all of their flavors, which cover a fair share of classic cereal bases as well as a few other fun/less common inclusions. Right now the flavors on offer include: Fruity, Peanut Butter, Maple Waffle, Frosted, Cocoa, Cookies & Cream, Cinnamon Roll, and Blueberry Muffin.
…I bought four boxes.
Because Magic Spoon is an independent company, they can’t offer the kinds of mass-produced, factory-distributed price points for their consumer base. To be perfectly transparent, yes I did buy $40 worth of cereal, which I did for scientific purposes. I wonder if I can write that off as a business expense.
For the purposes of my experiment/taste test/review, I went half-and-half on my flavors, picking out two of the company’s classic/most popular flavors (Cocoa and Fruity) and two for my personal tastes (Blueberry Muffin and Maple Waffle).
The first thing that I have to talk about is the packaging. A+ to whomever was responsible for this.
A beautiful display of all of my pretties (soon to be eaten).
The artist really captures that friendly and inviting feel that a good cereal box invokes, although in this case one hopes without the malicious intent. Just look at these lil’ guys! Apparently everyone has a respective cereal familiar. They even put a little word game on the back of the boxes (not pictured, sorry)! These guys know what they’re doing.
Our journey starts with Blueberry Muffin. Oh, how the sound of cereal pieces cascading into a bowl invokes something primal in my psyche. The first thing of note is the aroma. Obviously there aren’t whole blueberries in the mix, but the usage of actual juice and extracts in the flavoring prevents there from being an artificial smell. To give credit to the name, it does have a legitimate blueberry smell (not necessarily muffins, but in fairness I probably wouldn’t want my cereal to smell buttery).
Protein-rich cereal in oat milk. In retrospect, a dangerous move (we don’t tend to buy or have uses for regular milk).
Texture-wise the Magic Spoon loops do have a quality to them that takes a second to adjust to, being that their make-up leaves them slightly more airy on the inside. They’ve still got a chew to them, but it’s not quite as firm as something like a Cheerio would be. I’d probably chalk it up to being closest to a Froot Loop.
Taste is the big note here. As soon as I had that first spoonful I knew that one bowl wasn’t going to be enough. Yeah, it’s cereal. The flavor is definitely sweet, but no overbearingly so. Still, each bite sort of does the job of perfuming the taste across the inside of your mouth, coating the tongue with each subsequent mouthful.
Regrettably, I ate two bowls on my first go, which made it then all too clear that this was not quite your standard breakfast cereal. Again, these not-actually “grains” are protein-rich. One bowl will leave you reasonably fed. Two puts you on the verge of stomachache. One that you gladly enforced on yourself.
Maple Waffle was next. Of note, whenever I used to go on my rants about there not being a good cereal for adults (and there were a handful of these), the first flavor that I would conceptualize was maple pecan. Why? Well I mean, I like those flavors. But also, it’s the right kind of naturally-sourced sweetness to check off the standard cereal boxes while also having enough of a nutty, woodsy depth to make you think of cabins and pullover sweaters. You know, adult things.
Didn’t last long enough for me to even think about doing a photo shoot…farewell Mr. Maple Man and your trusty Walrus sidekick.
Ultimately my dream of maple pecan cereal is just granola. It is quite literally the main two ingredients that I use when I make it, obviously if we’re disregarding rolled oats.
Safe to say this box didn’t last long. As I tend to do when I make granola, this became a snacking cereal, scooped by the handful with abandon during marathon tv sessions with my roommates. Aroma and texture notes are the same quality as before. Taste is a toss-up between which I like more. But boy am I happy with these two picks.
The only slight miss for me. Still ate it all, just my least favorite of the four.
Cocoa was the first flavor where I did notice something initially off in my taste test. Unlike the other two flavors thus far, which surpassed my expectations, this one did hit on an apprehension that I was concerned about. The cocoa box had a bit of an artificial smell to it, which translated to the taste being a little cardboardy at first bite. I’m not sure if the cocoa powder has a harder time preservation-wise, if it tends to negatively take on other flavors where the others don’t, or if it’s simply the quality of the blend that’s not to my liking, but this was definitely a step down and it’s important to acknowledge it as such. That slightly stale quality did lessen on later bites. Maybe I had a bad batch? Maybe this flavor isn’t for me. It’s certainly one of the most ordered, but when isn’t chocolate?
If it’s going to be popular, I’m going to hold it do a high standard. And on this pass, cocoa unfortunately drops the ball.
A muted look into my not quite technicolor madness.
The final flavor in our taste taste was Fruity, the other popular pick. And unlike the Loops that it is in no doubt evoking, these can legally make use of the word “fruit” spelled properly. Color-wise the loops are more pale (being achieved through turmeric and other ingredients) in appearance, which if anything ironically moves them a step closer to being natural. Actual neon-colored cereals are definitely just food dye and other artificial colorings. I consider this to be more honest.
Speaking of the Loops, these definitely harken to the same scent and taste. As to what “fruit” has ever meant in a cereal concept, I liken it to the ambiguity that is fruit punch. No, one can’t pinpoint the particular fruits in question, but there is a botanical quality to it that gives it that nominal flavor over just being “somewhat sweetened.”
Being perfectly transparent, this box came around when I was impossibly swamped with a work project, with barely a second of time to actually make food for myself throughout my assignment. Am I proud of going a day with little to eat than Magic Spoon Fruity flavored cereal? No. But at least the box was actually built to last (by which I mean not leave me starving).
I don’t recommend consuming this under such dire conditions. But if you are in a normal state of being and are a fan of fruity-flavored cereals, this one does the job.
Having finally gotten through all four of my boxes over several weeks, I can safely say that I do recommend Magic Spoon as a product. Co-founders Greg and Gabi are filling an incredible niche, bringing actual healthy cereal to an adult audience. The duo has definitely achieved their goal, and are expanding their brand bit by bit with new products (most recently with the introduction of cereal bars).
From the four flavors that I taste tasted, I still ended up liking the ones that I was most excited about going in the most. Really, I think that’s what cereal is about. At the end of the day, protein-boosting, post-workout treat or not, it’s still that. A treat. A comfort.
If you’re interested in trying out Magic Spoon, go with the flavors that you like. Pick a box that matches your favorite cereal from childhood, or even your favorite now. See how it holds up.
For now, I do find that cereal for breakfast is behind me. I still prefer savory options and cooked meals. It’s why I had most of these boxes as snacks. Will I order from Magic Spoon again? At the very least, I don’t anticipate myself doing so any time soon. No ill feelings towards the boys, it’s just that I’m a granola man now. I hope that you two can understand.
Besides, I’m sure that it’s only a matter of time until nostalgia comes tugging back on my shirt sleeve.
