Over the last 15 years or so pumpkin beers have been as much a part of the fall season as, say, pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks and Christmas displays at Home Depot. Pumpkin beer is a fun idea, but in general the execution never lives up to the hype. Beer is supposed to be malty and hoppy (in varying degrees), so the addition of pumpkin imparts an unusual flavor. I’ve tried a number of pumpkin beers over the years, and none has really lit my candle, as it were. One of the problems is that these beers typically start with a lager base, and I think we can all agree that lagers are the scourge of the beer world. They’re light and watery and have almost no alcohol and even less flavor, and the smell reminds me of high school keggers. Not that I’ve ever been to one.

So imagine my glee when I came across a bottle of 10 Barrel Brewing Company’s entry into this genre, “Jamaican Me Pumpkin.” (As for the name: I confess that I don’t quite get the Jamaican reference. I mean, I get the “You’re Makin'” semi-pun, but “You’re makin’ me pumpkin” makes no sense. There’s no particular Jamaican influence about pumpkins, is there? And 10 Barrels Brewing Co. is just a place up in Bend, Oregon founded by 3 bro’s. Maybe there’s some Jamaican double entendre I’m not aware of?

Anyway, it gets better. The label clearly distinguishes this beer from the usual pumpkin beers. First, it’s aged in rum barrels, for three years. That’s something you don’t run into with most beers. Second, it’s an imperial pumpkin beer, meaning it’s high alcohol (in this case, 10 percent alcohol). Nothing like those wussy pumpkin beers they sell at the grocery store. So, this shows promise. Let’s get down to the tasting!

1. Packaging. Even though there is no overt Halloween theme, they’ve packaged this pumpkin beer well. The label prominently features pumpkin-orange writing, complete with an indecipherable Jamaican pun. The mouth of the bottle is dipped in matching orange wax, much in the style of Maker’s Mark. This is classy packaging. I’m giving it 3 points.
2. Appearance of the Treat. This beer has a lovely copper color…not quite pumpkin orange (which wouldn’t be appetizing in a beer), but unusual enough to signify that we’ve got something special here. The beer pours with a very subtle, creamy head that leaves a nice lacing on the side of the glass. (Note that the barware I selected for this beer is the Edgar Allen Poe glass given to me by my friend Chris.) The beer doesn’t have much of a nose, which is something that could never be said about me. But as it looks back at you from the glass, it’s both inviting and attractive. I’ll give it 2 points. (It would have been three, if it had a thicker head or a more prominent nose.)

3. Taste. I raised the glass to my lips, drew in the almost absent nose, and took a small sip. I was underwhelmed. There was no real pumpkin taste to speak of, and very little spice, and I don’t think those rum barrels imparted any of their flavor. This beer mainly tasted like sour beer (a style that confusingly was very popular about 10 years ago.) I took another sip. And another. And it really didn’t ever get much better. Jamaican me frustrated. No points.

4. Value. So, this 22 ounce bottle cost $17. That’s way more than I’m normally willing to pay for even a six pack. (If you talk to my wife, please don’t mention the price. I’ve allowed her to assume it’s the the same $5-8 bucks that I’d normally pay for a bomber.) I think I’d classify this as a ripoff. No points.

Steve’s Sweetoberfest Score: 5 out of 12 points, which makes it a modest TRICK. Save your money!

Attentive readers will remember that frosted sugar cookies, especially with whimsical designs, are one of my (many) weaknesses. They will also recall that I was disappointed in the frosted mummy cookie from DecoCookies. Well, my search for a tasty Halloween sugar cookie continues, and I’ve nabbed a Frankenstein cookie from Hyde and Eek. Hyde and Eek appears to be the house brand of a line of Halloween decorations at Target. But a quick internet search finds Amazon also carries this line. Given that it’s already mid-October, the Hyde and Eek section of Target is getting pretty picked over, and most of the packaged sugar cookies looked the worse for wear. I nabbed the one with the least damage.

1. Packaging. We’ve got the now-familiar cellophane package, with the Hyde and Eek logo and the usual descriptive wording. I’m still willing to give it a point for transparency. Without it, I would have come home with one of the shopworn, cracked and crumbly messes that were on the same shelf.
2. Appearance of the Treat. Whoever “hand decorated” this cookie admittedly showed more care than the person working on those pumpkins at See’s. They’ve created a goofy Frankenstein face with googly eyes, a twisty mouth, and a Lurch haircut. The green icing is generously and evenly applied. Overall, it’s a pretty cute job. 3 points.

3. Taste. Curses! Foiled again! It seems that it’s an impossible dream to find a tasty, soft-baked sugar cookie with rich icing…that’s also shelf-stable enough to be pre-packaged and sit on a shelf at Target for a month or two. This cookie is pretty dry and crumbly, and so is the icing. The cookie doesn’t have much flavor either, tasting mainly like floury cardboard. The icing is slightly sweet, but not enough to save the cookie. I’m left wishing that the Target employees had been able to better “Hyde” this cookie from me. No points.

4. Value. It was a buck, which isn’t unreasonable for a passable sugar cookie. The thing is, though, this isn’t a passable sugar cookie. 1 point.

Steve’s Sweetoberfest Score: 5 out of 12 points, which makes it a modest TRICK. I’m really hoping I can find a good Halloween sugar cookie before the month is out…

I read in the morning paper that today Dunkin’ Donuts is introducing a new Halloween donut. Actually, the place evidently is no longer called “Dunkin’ Donuts,” but rather just “Dunkin’.” So not only have they given up on the noun in their name, all they’re left with is an adjective (or maybe a verb, depending on how you look at it). And it’s not even a complete word, since they long ago ditched the “G.” Such mistreatment of the English language normally would be enough for me to “write” off a business. And to tell the truth, I’m not sure that I’ve ever been to a Dunkin’ Donuts. Or to a Dunkin’, for that matter. But the morning’s news had me thinking that I needed to pay them a visit. For they’ve introduced a Spicy Ghost Pepper donut. This brings together three things that I value: a Halloween theme, a donut, and a high Scoville number. So I took a drive to the local Dunkin’, which let’s just say isn’t in the high rent part of town, and asked for the new Halloween donut at their drive-up window. The disembodied voice behind the speaker on the sign where I placed my order asked if I wanted the Spider donut or the Ghost pepper donut. Worried that this might be a trick question I asked for both. Let’s review what I got!

1. Packaging. All they did was dump my donuts into their standard bag. But that’s SOP, and I don’t want to ding them too much for not having a festive, Halloween-themed bag. Let’s just give them a point and move on.
2. Appearance of the Treats. Check out this Spider Donut:

Is that awesome, or what? The body (thorax? head?) of the spider is made with a chocolate donut hole, and the legs are chocolate icing. (The pedipalps appear to be missing, but I’ll overlook that.) The glaring orange eyes match the festive, pumpkin-orange icing on the main donut. This is one of the most imaginative and well-executed Halloween treats I’ve seen. Definitely 3 points.

Moving on to the Ghost Pepper donut. As much as I appreciate the play on “ghost” pepper for the holiday, I’m disappointed they didn’t get more into the visual, um, “spirit” of the thing. Couldn’t they make the whole thing a pearlescent white? Or put some eyes on it? Or shape it like a ghost? The red sprinkles do signify heat, but they don’t signify Halloween. 1 point.

3. Taste. The spider donut is a well-made donut with a sweet taste that’s rich without being heavy. Each bite has a spongy-soft, melt-on-your-tongue mouthfeel to it. And while the main donut isn’t filled with anything, it gives the impression of custard. The spider’s body has a nice chocolate taste that keeps things interesting. 3 points.

And now we arrive at the whole point of today’s outing: To sink our teeth into the Ghost Pepper donut. The ghost pepper is supposedly one of world’s the hottest peppers, so it’s a clever marketing strategy to dare manly men like me to prove our manliness by pushing the envelope on heat consumption.

Like the spider donut, the mouthfeel of this donut is excellent. And the first thing you taste are the strawberry icing and the sugar sprinkles. It’s a pleasant taste, but it’s certainly not at all hot. But then, after 5 to 10 seconds, the heat begins to materialize. It’s distinct, but not overwhelming. Sort of like cinnamon gum. Certainly I’ve had hotter taste experiences from a Costco pepperoni pizza. This donut did not get me to break a sweat. For something that’s justified almost solely on the basis of its heat, this was a disappointment. No points.

4. Value. These donuts were $1.49 each. For the spider, I’d call that a damn good value. 3 points. It seems a little steep for the ghost pepper donut, though. It’s just not that special. Definitely there’s less volume and less labor involved, compared with the spider donut. I can only give it 1 point.

Steve’s Sweetoberfest Score for Spider Donut: 10 out of 12 points, which is a solid TREAT.

Steve’s Sweetoberfest Score for Spicy Ghost Pepper Donut: 3 out of 12 points, which makes it a disappointing TRICK.

When I was 10 years old, General Mills released two new cereals that my brother and I, following orders from the television, demanded that Mom buy. Those cereals were Count Chocula and Frankenberry. This was about the same time that I was building those Universal Monsters models, and when I stayed up late every Saturday night to watch some B-grade, black and white horror movie on Creature Features. So the new cereals, with cartoon monsters featured prominently on the boxes, appealed to me. (Today, the scariest aspect of these “new” cereals is realizing that they were introduced almost half a century ago.)

Count Chocula, of course, was a chocolate flavored cereal, while Frankenberry purported to be strawberry flavored. Both contained what were called “marshmallow bits.” Alas, it turned out that the dye used in Frankenberry was undigestible in young children, resulting in a condition that came to be known as “Frankenberry Stool.” I’m not making this up. The recipe was soon changed.

A year later General Mills added “Boo-berry,” which was a blueberry flavored cereal with smirking ghost character wearing a porkpie hat and a bowtie. I refused to eat Boo-berry because I thought the ghost looked like Don Knotts in The Ghost and Mr. Chicken. Later additions were “Frute Brute” and “Yummy Mummy.”

Today Count Chocula, Frankenberry, and Booberry are available for a short time each fall, around Halloween. So I picked up a “family size” box of Frankenberry to see how it stacked up against my memory of it.

1.Packaging. OK, there’s some good Halloween imagery going on here. You’ve got your Frankenstein-like monster (even though he’s pink), a haunted house, a spider web around the General Mills logo, and the promise of “Monster Marshmallows” in monster typeface. And are those ghosts flying out of the bowl? This updated box portrays a somewhat better monster, I think, than the original box, where the monster looks like a pink gorilla with glasses. (Incidentally, you can get an original Frankenberry box — not the cereal, just the box — for slightly less than $1,000 on ebay.) I’ll give the packaging 3 points.

2. Appearance of the Treat. Here’s where things get a little hinky. Let’s separate out the base cereal product (BCP) from the “marshmallows.” (See detail in second picture below.) So, what is the BCP supposed to be portraying? They kind of look like one of the ghosts from PacMan. Or, if you flip it over, is it supposed to be the Frankenberry head, with the gauges and valves on the top? And why is it the color of Cheetos, which is a color I wouldn’t associate with strawberry?

Moving on to the alleged marshmallows: Are these supposed to represent anything? The one of the left (sort of a greyish color) might be a bat. The pink one in the middle might be a ghost, or a left-facing profile of a face with a large nose and a pronounced overbite. I have no idea what to make of the other two marshmallow shapes. The one thing I do know is that none of this adds up to anything even remotely scary, or Halloween-y, or even appetizing. No points.

3. Taste. As a concept, this cereal reminds me a lot of Lucky Charms, which is a cereal I never liked. At least back when I was a kid, Lucky Charms comprised an uninteresting, oat Base Cereal Product, punctuated with little marshmallows, which were the only part you actually wanted to eat. Now, I consider Frankenberry’s BCP to be superior to that of Lucky Charms, insofar as they’re slightly sweeter. Frankenberry’s not as sweet as, say, Froot Loops, and that’s probably a good thing. But the biggest problem with Frankenberry’s BCP is that they don’t really taste like anything. They certainly don’t taste like strawberry. They just have some kind of generic, slightly sweet, cereal taste. Couple that with the odd color and the puzzling shape, and the cereal is just confusing.

And then there are the “monster marshmallows.” They taste just like Lucky Charms’ marshmallows. They’re the only reason you’d ever really want to eat Lucky Charms. So let’s do a little experiment: I carefully isolated a bowl of just the marshmallow bits, added milk, and ate a few spoonfuls. The verdict? These things are disgusting. No points. I should have tried the Count Chocula.

4. Value. This “family-size” box cost $3.50. That seems to be about the going rate for breakfast cereal. It contains about 12 servings of 1-and-1/3 cups, which works out to about 30 cents per serving. There’s no toy in the box, but there is a half-hearted activity panel on the back of the box. I’ll give it 2 points.

Steve’s Spooktoberfest Score: 5 out of 12 points, which is a modest TRICK.

Today we wade back into the mysterious world of pumpkin-flavored treats. Specifically, we’re trying out Pepperidge Farm’s Pumpkin Cheesecake cookies. (Don’t worry; we will get to pumpkin-flavored beer before the month is out.)

Pepperidge Farm seems to have a real cachet among cookie lovers. It’s true that their cookies are unusually flavorful and rich, which is reflected in the fat and calorie count. (For example, just one of these cookies will deliver 13% of your daily required fat.) (I’ll also note here that loyal reader David W suggests that my scoring rubric should include calories per serving. This is a good idea that I will consider for next time.)

Anyway, today’s is another treat that isn’t distinctly marketed as a Halloween product, but rather evokes the general theme of fall. But given the explicit mention of pumpkin, I figure it qualifies for this project. So, with no further ado, on to the review.

1. Packaging. In keeping with the fall theme, the package is decorated with autumn leaves, and orange highlights are used to highlight the term “soft baked.” This is perfectly fine for an autumn-themed treat. But this blog wants to see at least some acknowledgement of Halloween. Like would a simple, uncarved pumpkin be too much to ask? Now, to be fair, there is a pumpkin on the side panel, where the key ingredients (“real pumpkin, brown sugar, cage-free eggs”) are mentioned. So I’ll give it a point.

2. Appearance of the Treat. Pepperidge Farm really knows how to dress up a cookie. Like their Chessmen cookies, or their Mint Milanos, or their Brussels. These are all works of art.

…And then there’ the Pumpkin Cheesecake cookie.

I understand the appeal of “soft baked,” but this cookie has all the character and appeal of a flat tire. The moist, not-quite-baked surface of this cookie adhered to its neighbor in the bag, and took a bit along with it on the way out. The whole cookie sags under its own weight as you raise it to your mouth. And what’s with these mystery chunks erupting here and there from the soft dough? They look like macadamia nuts, but there’s no mention of them in the ingredients list (see below). Are they accidental? Are they an amalgam of the other ingredients? Are they pumpkin nodules? Overall, this does not do a lot for me. No points.

3. Taste. The most I can say for these it that they’re inoffensive. But so are freshly-laundered socks, and I wouldn’t eat them for a Halloween treat. These cookies have a distinct pumpkin flavor on the finish, but you notice it only after working through some bland, doughy chewing. The truth is, these are a disappointment. Your mouth and stomach register that you’ve just consumed a lot of fat, but your taste buds are left wondering what all the fuss is about. They’re the soft-baked version of hard tack. 1 point.

4. Value. You get 8 cookies of approximately 1 ounce each for $3.89. That works out to about 50 cents per cookie (or twice the cost of a Pop-Tart). But the larger consideration here is that you wouldn’t really want to eat these, so they really aren’t a value at any price. No points.

Steve’s Sweetoberfest Score: 2 out of 12 points, which makes it a disappointing TRICK.