ALL-BRAN
EatingAll-Branisapowerful
statementofunderstanding
one’sownmortality.Like
aRomanarenachampion
enteringbattle,youapproach
thebreakfasttableknowing
youwilldieoneday.The
packagingdoesnothingto
temperthisbelief.Thereisno
funtobehad.Itlooksmore
likeagenericpharmaceutical
productthananexcitingstart
totheday.Butthattakesusto
thecorevalueofthisproduct:
All-Branisadeclaration
ofadulthood.Thechalky,
flavourlessbitesspeaktoa
mentalitywhereyouknowthis
isn’tenjoyable,butyou’rean
adultandadultssometimes
havetoeatboringcereal,do
theirtaxesandawaitthecold
embraceofdeath.Youdonot
chooseAll-Bran.Itisfoisted
uponyou,prescribedtoyou,
orsimplyconjuredintoyour
mouthonceyoureachacertain
age.ThetragedyofAll-Branis
thetragedyofhumanlife–that
allofthisisultimatelyfutile.JCCOCO POPS
Oh, baby. Seeing the bright
yellow Coco Pops box transports
me back to the first days of
school camp, and the rush
of freedom that comes with
knowing your sugar levels won’t
be properly monitored. The
English language can only go
so far towards explaining the
sensory thrill that is eating Coco
Pops, but let me be the first
to try: it’s just like a chocolate
milkshake, only crunchy.
Everything about this cereal
screams high-octane rush. It’s
breakfast fun. It’s a sweet treat
for you, the special darling of the
morning. Of course, then comes
the crash. An existential crisis
awaits any adult attempting to
enjoy a bowl of Coco Pops. It’s
just a matter of time before your
psyche rebels and punctuates
every bite with a wail: “You’re
almost 30. You’re almost 30!”
While the sugary hit is a thrill,
waking up three days later
in an abandoned truck stop
somewhere near the South
Australian border is not. JCFROOT LOOPS
I’m ashamed when I pull
the Froot Loops box off the
shelf, and even more so
when I carry it home. It’s
an intensified version of the
archaic shame I feel carrying
a 24-pack of toilet rolls
under my arm. I know Froot
Loops are bad; everyone
looking at me knows they’re
bad (surely people were
looking at me, right?). I
was never allowed these
as a kid. My hippie parents
raised us on Nuttelex and rye
bread, and I always felt like
I’d missed out. I hadn’t. My
first spoonful is like being
beaten in the mouth by a
sugary rainbow. My teeth
are disintegrating, I’m sure
of it. The milk tastes like
that really sweet laxative
that makes your lips curl
in disgust. When I try to eat
some loops dry, the flavour is
less intense, but I’ll probably
just burn the evidence I ever
bought these and visit my
dentist on Monday. CCcrunch time
JAMES COLLEY AND CARO COOPER REVISIT
SOME CLASSIC BREAKFAST CEREALS.
Illustrations Ngaio ParrCORN FLAKES
So many Aussie kids grew
up on Corn Flakes, but we
grew up calling those pellets
of kelp that wash onto the
beach after heavy rainfall ‘corn
flakes’, as well. These taste
way better than the kelp ones
do. I’m surprised how much I
enjoyed this cereal on a revisit,
especially because it tastes
like absolutely nothing. It’s just
crunchy milk. I kind of thought
it would be disappointing in
the way most things from your
youth are when you return to
them (aside from E.T., which
stands up), but they’re not.
The Corn Flakes aren’t sweet
or packed with bran – they’re
just an appealing, corny blank
canvas. The texture of well-
soaked Corn Flakes can divide
families, but most families
will divide anyway, whether
Corn Flakes come into it or
not. I like the crunch of raw
or recently drowned flakes,
but am not too proud to tuck
into some sloppy, soppy ones
either. I’ll take it all. CCroad test