So, this is my swan song kids. It has been a great experience writing for So Good but life has been crazy lately and I feel these columns have been a bit lacking. I only want to best for you so I decided to have some dignity and step away.

This final entry may seem sort of a bust, but it holds some personal meaning to me. I would beg and plead my mom for this stuff when I was a kid. I wanted this more than lunchables or fruit roll-ups…both verboten items in our house. Apparently, she did not love me; she declared it “inedible” and “garbage”. I now have the ability to put whatever crap I want in my body…so here it is:

Smell: MMMM..peanut butter. I like peanut butter. I am sure you like peanut butter. Just go with it.

Appearance/Texture: It looks pretty inoffensive. Where can you go wrong with grape jelly and creamy peanut butter? Sure, I like it chunky and raspberry is clearly the superior fruit preserve, but this gets an A for effort. I decided to ignore the excessive bubbles in the jelly…denial, not just a river in Egypt.

Taste: Clearly, my mother hates me. There is nothing wrong with this. It is heaven on a spoon, nirvana on my tongue. It is happiness in my mouth.

Final verdict: My childhood was a lie. Mommy, why don’t you love me?

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Lemmonex thanks you for putting up with her crap and reading her blog…she will miss you.

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Smell: Nada.

Texture/Appearance: Wet, cold, and bubbly.

Taste: It tasted a bit flat and bitter. Also, it was grapefruit merely in name. There was nothing citrusy about it. Imagine drinking a bottle of Perrier that had been left open for two days–there you have it. I drank it, but I wasn’t impressed.

Final verdict: There isn’t really much to say about this. I’d pass. I will go for a Red Bull if I need a shot of energy.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and her cripplingly bad habits daily at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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Health food. Herring in sour cream. Does not compute.

I’ve had my eye on this one for a while, but the fear has always stopped me. It is extreme. This week I put on my big girl panties and grabbed the jar. Pray for me.

Smell: Like pickles and fish. The pickled scent comes from the vinegar listed on the ingredient list. For the first time I seriously considered not eating a product. I knew I had to perservere.

Appearance/Texture: It looked like creamy baby vomit with large silvery chunks. The cold sour cream felt like death and sadness on my tongue.

Taste: When I started this column, I made a promise to Eick that I would not swear. I don’t think he is watching so I am letting it rip: this was the most fucking disgusting shit I have ever eaten. The fish and the vinegar and the creaminess made me gag. I am a woman with a strong constitution and I nearly lost my dinner.

Final Verdict: Are you kidding me? Really?! Step away from the fish in a jar.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and her fear of children on her blog, Culinary Couture.

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When I stumbled across this packet of horror in the supermarket, I was riveted. Could this actually be good? Could I ever be hungry enough to actually consume this? Egads, what if I like this? It just didn’t seem appetizing but I wanted to keep an open mind.

Smell: Like plastic. Gag inducing. Things did not look good.

Appearance/Texture: Well, look at the photo. Does this seem like something you would want to eat? It is gooey, mushy, and sticky. If glue and paste drank too many Amaretto Sours one night and things got a little out of hand, this would be their inter-adhesive love child. The chicken looked like a year old sponge that had spent too much time in a tanning bed. I searched vehemently for the broccoli in this “meal” until I realized the teeny flecks I assumed were pepper had a green hue.

Taste: Not so bad. I was expecting much worse. It was not nearly as salty or wretched as I anticipated. It didn’t have must taste at all. There was a plasticky undertone but this packet of culinary shame benefited from low expectations.

Final Verdict: Do yourself a favor and do not even look at this. Do humanity a favor and refuse to buy this. We need it off the street. It is for the children. We must save them.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life and how much she just wants to be held at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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The one beacon of hope on these rides was “South of the Border”. If you have driven through North and South Carolina, you know exactly what I am talking about. Starting about 220 miles from the border, garish florescent signs signal the impending arrival of what appears to be the best place on Earth.

In reality, South of the Border may be the saddest place in the whole entire world…or at least in the Carolinas. It is run down and dirty and depressing….but you can get fireworks! Not all is lost. One of my most vivid memories of those soul sucking trips to South of the Border was coercing my father to buy me “Ginger Beer”. He told me I would hate it…and I did. It was pungent and far too harsh for my gentle, young taste buds.

I often think of Ginger Beer and shudder. My surprisingly sharp memory has retained the exact taste of it for years. Besides having a mind like a steel trap, I also have a masochistic streak. I decided to take this beverage for another spin. Consider it your holiday gift from me.

Smell: Not shockingly, the scent of ginger is very strong. The smell is reminiscent of pickled ginger.

Texture/Appearance: As one might imagine a beverage to be, it is wet. What really disturbed me was the presence of chunks. Yes, there were chunks in my beverage. You know what I don’t want in my soda? Detris. All I could think of was backwash. I was not in a good frame of mind.

Taste: It really isn’t my scene. It is very aggressive; the ginger practically attacks you. I cannot imagine drinking one of these as I ate my lunch or some such. There is nothing refreshing about it. It is really, super pungent.

Final verdict: No thanks. If you love ginger, you may like this…but I will pass. The chunks were a huge turn-off and it only got worse from there.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and all the ways she has been naughty and nice at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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The other morning, as I chatted to a friend online, she told me she had to run and go warm up her “fibrous Pop-Tart”. Somehow, the fact that she was eating these made it acceptable, in my mind, to finally break down and make the purchase.

As I made one of these at work the other morning, a coworker commented that I was “kidding myself by thinking these were healthy.” I quickly reminded him that he eats three cookies every single day with his lunch. Let’s see if these were worth alienating my coworkers….

Smell: I went with the “Brown Sugar Cinnamon” variety, so when toasted they smelled sweet and spicy. (Also, am I the only one who truly believes this should be “Cinnamon Brown Sugar” not “Brown Sugar Cinnamon”?)

Appearance/Texture: Not shockingly, they look like Pop-Tarts. The crust is a bit darker, reflecting the presence of whole grains. Also, the layer of icing on top is not as thick as a Pop-Tart. The filling was a tad stickier than your average toaster pastry, but it was shockingly similar. I don’t know why I was so surprised to see this, but I expected something a lot funkier.

Taste: Like Pop-Tarts! Shocking, I know. These, perhaps, might have been a little better than Pop-Iarts. This is a bizarre thing to say about something like a toaster pastry–it is essentially dessert for breakfast–but I think the taste was somewhat complex. Now, I am not saying it rivals lobster risotto with truffle oil, but for a treat with such humble aspirations, I was digging on the slight nuttiness of the wheat and the perfectly balanced sweetness of the sugar and cinnamon.

Final verdict: At 190 calories, 4 grams of fat and 5 grams of fiber, as well as 15 grams of protein, this is a reasonable breakfast. Some oatmeal or an egg white and an apple are definitely a more balanced choice, but if you are looking for a sweet treat, this won’t break the nutritional bank. I was actually really impressed with these and happily chowed down on them all week. Health food and junk food all rolled in to one? Yes, please.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and her raging ego at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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Now, I love trying all this weird stuff so you don’t have to…I consider it a duty and privilege. Yet, after Thanksgiving, I was feeling pretty full. I needed detox for a week. Lord knows some of the stuff I have eaten here is not for the faint of heart or for the health minded.

So, when I eyed these pretzel chips and salsa, I could not have been happier. 70 calories! Also, I bet they aren’t totally disgusting. My prayers had been answered. I put down the abomination I had originally settled on and happily purchased. Let’s see is my compromise was fruitful…

Smell: The chips don’t have a smell, while the salsa smells of onions and garlic. It is pretty standard stuff.

Texture/Appearance: This is composed of two cups–one filled with pretzel chips, the other salsa–held together in a little pod by a plastic outerlayer. I was disappointed to see that about half the chips were broken when I opened the package. Not entirely shocking, but it does not make for clean and easy dipping. The salsa looked suitably chunky, though I was surprised to see large pieces of celery.

Taste: I was nervous the pretzel crisps would taste stale, as refrigeration is generally not kind to dry goods. (These were chilling on the salad bar at my local grocery store.) These were perfectly crisp (truth in advertising!) and salted to perfection. The salsa was, in fact, quite zesty. The taste of sweet peppers is very present. I was impressed; it was quite a decent salsa.

Final verdict: These were not bad. But for $1.50 a piece, I just don’t see the point. I know that individual portions are all the rage, but it seems a waste of money and packaging. These are a bit large and unwieldy to throw in with your lunch. It tastes fine, but it just doesn’t seem very functional. I will take a big bag of chips and a jar of salsa any day over this.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and the safety of six day old turkey and at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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I will say I am quite pleased that pork rinds (or pork skins, if you prefer) aren’t an option at my local sub shop. Lord knows my head might just explode if I had to choose a favorite…there are a zillion varieties, but up until now, I hadn’t tried any. Now is the time: Salt and Vinegar Pork Skins, here I come.

Smell: In full disclosure, I grabbed this variety of pork skins because of the smell. In the store, the scent was seeping out of the bag. It was a seriously pungent odor…but in a good way. I adore salt and vinegar chips and these smelled like salt and vinegar chips on steroids.

Appearance/Texture: I was surprised by how large these were….some were almost the length of my palm. The tan color was the same as any other pork rind. There are little, delightful divets filled with fat and oil covering the surface of every pork skin. As soon as they hit the tongue, they start melting. They are crunchy and make quite a bit of noise as you eat them.

Taste: Um…yeah, these are good. Really, incredibly tasty and delicious. It is so liberating to admit this. Who doesn’t like salt and vinegary goodness slathered on fried fat? There is a slightly smoky undernote to these. Frankly, I don’t really see anything not to love.

Final verdict: These were thrown in the trash, but not because I didn’t like them. For once, I was really sad to see them go. Honestly, I just have enough shame in my life. I cannot, under any circumstances, allow myself to sit on my couch and watch “John and Kate Plus 8″ while I eat Salt and Vinegar Pork Skins. It is too damn close to getting a cat and totally giving up. Dang if I won’t miss these, though.

(Programming Note: Next week brings too much baking and not enough time, so you won’t find me here.  This Thanksgiving I am thankful to y’all for reading.  Have a great holiday and see you in two weeks.)

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and how much she just wants to dance on her blog, Culinary Couture.

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My friend Irish let her husband buy these crackers, but quite reluctantly. She thought they looked gross.

The only reasonable compromise was they had to be handed off to me after he tried them. The lengths I go to for my friendships.  Here is what I thought of my friend’s scraps:

Smell: I was quite excited. They had the distinct scent of Old Bay, though not quite so strong. I like Old Bay! This could be good.

Texture/Appearance: Look how cute they are. They look like crabs…but cuddly crabs that won’t pinch you or your little toes as you swim innocently in the ocean. (Sorry, I had an incident when I was a little girl that I haven’t quite gotten past.)  Dark red and black flecks from the seasoning cover these little guys. They have the expected crunch of a cheese cracker.

Taste: The Crabbers (doesn’t that sound dirty) taste like Cheese Its covered in Old Bay…except Old Bay past its prime.  It is like a weaker, sadder version of Old Bay. There is a touch of heat to these as well, but nothing that lingers.

Final Verdict: Sure! Why not!  I don’t know if I was hypnotized by the cute little crab shape of these crackers, but I am totally on board.  For the first time in weeks, I didn’t immediately pitch this food product in the trash.  That has to count for something.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and her trail of broken hearts at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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When I saw these Bamba Peanut Snacks at Giant, I was intrigued.  They looked like peanut butter flavor Cheetos.  I had to try them.  Here is what I thought:

Smell: It smells like concentrated peanut butter with a slightly plastic edge.

Appearance/Texture:  These looked like straightened out cheetos; they are one and a half inch long tan tubes.  Upon hitting the tongue they instantly disintegrate and adhere to the roof of your mouth.  I was instantly reminded of communion wafers. These puffs are sticky and having an amazing talent for coating every inch of your mouth with a waxy substance.

Taste: What is the deal with all the food on the market that tastes like nothing?  OK…I wouldn’t say this tasted like nothing, but the peanut butter flavor was barely present.  It was tasting with my nose more than my mouth for sure…I knew it was supposed to be peanut butter, so that was what I tasted. I was all prepared for awesomeness…there was no awesomeness to be had.

Final Verdict: I will get my peanut butter fix from a Reece’s peanut butter cup or straight from a spoon. Peanut butter cheetos should not exist. I will pass.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life and her unending search for the perfect safety word at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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It pains my heart that I can only find it this time of year, but in some ways it gives me something to look forward to all year long. You can imagine how giddy I was when I stumbled upon this gem of a food product: Boo Berry Fruit by the Foot. It is taking junk food…and making it junkier. I had to try it.

Smell: A tad sweet and a bit like the waxed paper it was adhered to. If you have ever eaten a fruit roll-up, you know the smell well.

Texture/Appearance: The roll is a strip with alternating electric blue and purple patches. The strip was inexplicably scored with a squiggled line down the center, allowing me to pull it apart. The purpose of this squiggle is unclear to me, but if I was 5, I am sure I would find it pretty cool. The texture of the roll is sticky to the touch, but not as chewy as I remember. I recall these suckers sticking to my teeth like glue as a kid, but my adult molars tore this treat to shreds with ease.

Taste: It tasted like raspberry, synthetic raspberry. My friend Bawstin, who shared this treat with me, immediately proclaimed, “I could definitely eat these things on the regular again”. I have to agree with him; for a super sugary treat, these were pretty tasty. Yet, I find it quite necessary to make this one point: These do not, DO NOT, taste like Boo Berry. While the name and the cheery mascot have been stolen from my beloved cereal, this is the only thing they have in common. Boo Berry, as the name suggests, is a blueberry flavored treat while these roll-ups are pure raspberry. Fot shame, General Mills, for thinking you can pull the wool over my eyes.

Final Verdict: Well, these are good…but are they anything even reminiscent of the cereal? Nope, not a lick. That being said, who can blame this attempt in cross-marketing? I certainly cannot. I’d try Boo Berry flavored fiberglass if you told me it would be half as good as the cereal.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and her unbelievable skill for saying exactly the wrong thing at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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Smell: None.

Appearance/Texture: Peering in to the package, I could already tell this stuff was seriously freezer burned; a fine patina of ice covered every pellet. When I tore of the lid, I was greeted with another lid. Apparently, this double closure was supposed to protect the product from said freezer burn, but it certainly did not. When I opened up the container, I realized that there was not only freezer burn over everything, but there was also ice crystals through out the whole container.  Bits of Butterfinger candy was mixed through out the vanilla balls and ice. The vanilla ice cream beads were hard and almost a bit chewy the same time. The Butterfinger pieces were sticky and clumped together.

Taste: Well, the Butterfinger candy pieces were tasty, despite the gooeyness. I mean, it is Butterfinger; even though it was a bit jank, it still tasted decent. The ice cream particles were not so enjoyable, though. They were essentially tasteless, with the lovely lingering taste of freezer. I hate to keep harping on the freezer burn, but it ruined the whole product. I am fairly positive it cannot be avoided; I don’t think it was a deficiency of my grocery store, but a flaw of the packaging and the product.

Final verdict: There are about a zillion frozen treats I would take over this stuff. It just really made me wish I was eating a Toasted Almond or some Chubby Hubby. I was nervous I was going to really like this and scarf the whole container…turns out I had nothing to worry about. After two bites, it was happily pitched in the garbage.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and her unending crush on Jordan Catalano at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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But one always feels their childhood calling them back home. So, when I passed this single serving, microwavable version of Hamburger Helper in my neighborhood Giant, I could not resists this siren call of my childhood. I had to try it.

Smell: It smells like Hamburger Helper…with a bit of a styrofoam edge. I actually thought it would smell worse. I love pleasant surprises.

Texture/Appearance: Did any of you have betta fish as a kid? Come on…I am sure you begged your mom and she gave in, knowing it was a much better option than a hamster. So, the brownish-grey pellets that bettas eat? That is exactly what the rehydrated “beef” in this hamburger helper looks like. And it ate it, despite it looking like flash frozen fish meal. It felt kinda chewy, but…

Taste: …the taste wasn’t so bad. I mean, it tasted like Hamburger Helper. I think much like licorice or cilantro, Hamburger Helper is an acquired taste, but luckily, junk food lust is in my blood. I am sure there was an obscene amount of chemicals in this, but what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Final Verdict: I think it may have benefited from extremely low expectations, but either way, it really wasn’t so bad. I can think of a million things worse than this; I would eat it if I had to. I would just avoid looking at it…or thinking about exactly what rehydrated beef contains.  It really is best for everyone involved.

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Lemmonex writes about food, life, and her unbelievably silky hair almost daily at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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While the goal of this column is not to see how much disgusting food I can consume, I do consider myself a woman of the people. People want gross, I will give them gross.

This one is a reader request. When I contract some sort of weird auto immune deficiency or grow a goiter ten years from now, I know I will have Peeparazzo to blame. I am not 100% convinced this isn’t going to have some sort of long lasting health effect on me. Damn you, Peep, for making me eat this Creamy Salsa…I shall never forgive you.

Smell: Oh, for the LOVE OF GOD. Upon popping the lid off this jar, you are immediately struck with a repugnant smell. Words cannot even describe how truly horrific it is, but I shall try. I subjected my friend FoxyMoron to to this taste testing fiasco. As soon as the jar popped open he suppressed a gag and declared that this “smelled like garbage”. I asserted that it smelled “like garbage at 4 am in an ally”. The scent was truly stomach turning. It smells like shattered dreams and dimmed rainbows.

Appearance/Texture: Look, I am not even going to sugar coat this… You know how when a cat hoarks up a hairball? And there is all that milky stuff around it? It looks like that, with a pink hue. Enough said.

Texture? Bad. Filmy. NOT GOOD. Do not put this in your mouth.

Taste: The taste was the “best” part of this. When I say “best”, I mean the least gag-inducingly horrible. Seeing as the label says “contains milk product”, I feel it could be much worse. Milk product!? That actually makes sense because it is reminiscent of salsa with cremora stirred in. It ain’t milk, but it sure is milky…kinda sorta.

Final verdict: I think the comparison to cat puke says it all. The smell and appearance alone is enough to make any sane and reasonable individual stop. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. Run for your life. I implore you.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life, and the unbearable burden of being her at her blog, Culinary Couture.

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That one word caught my eye. This doesn’t seem to be a limited edition cereal or a promotion with an expiration date, but a NEW! edition to the Kellogg cereal family. Does the company think that High School Musical really has staying power? Do they think, 15 years from now, my children will sing along to timeless classics such as “Bop to the Top” and “Get’cha Head in the Game?” The marketing of this product intrigued me more than anything; I needed to see if this was a cereal that could endure the test of time.

Smell: There was none, which interestingly enough, would prove to be very prophetic.

Texture/Appearance: Texturally, the mouth feel of this cereal is exactly like Cap’n Crunch. The cereal is shaped like stars, with about two-thirds a yellowy-orange color while the remaining stars are a pinkish red. Most noteworthy is the white colored specks covering every piece of cereal. I am assuming these flecks represent vanilla  as the cereal is described as “sweetened vanilla-flavored corn cereal packed with STAR POWER!” Of course, vanilla flavor must be visually represented, yes?

Taste: So, lets get back to the description on the box…sweetened vanilla-flavored corn cereal packed with STAR POWER! What, pray tell, does star power taste like? I was actually excited to learn the flavor of star power; how would blood, sweat, tears and gumption feel on my tongue? Apparently, STAR POWER! is tricky wicket; this cereal tasted like nothing. Seriously, it had a very mild sweet flavor, but it was pure sugar. The vanilla-flavoring was asleep at the wheel and while the cereal felt like Cap’n Crunch, it sure didn’t taste like it. I was absolutely baffled at the lack of…taste.

Final Verdict: No amount of STAR POWER! can save this garbage. Just like High School Musical, it is bland and lacking in anything original. I would say this cereal stays on the market for about as long as Zac Efron is the next big thing.

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Lemmonex writes almost daily about food, life and her unwavering allegience to pigz in blanketz on her blog, Culinary Couture.

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