The Brunching Shuttlecocks Ratings

Muffin Loaf
I'm not sure what distinguishes a "muffin loaf" from "bread," or alternatively "cake." Probably the rising sun on the package, which is the Hostess ideogram for "eat this at breakfast, sugar-slave." Anyhow, this artificially fruit-flavored food brick has the same chemical mouth-feel as the rest of the Hostess gang, only sans filling and frosting. D

Frosted Donettes
Leaving aside the fact that the word "Donette" would logically indicate a miniature Don, you have to admire the way Hostess extends the shelf life of these little bakery knobs by sending them out of the factory with the same taste and texture one would expect from stale doughnuts. Add to that the fact that the sell-by date doesn't have a visible year, and you have the ultimate chocolate-swaddled mystery snack. B

These are just plain weird. Even the ones that aren't dyed green are weird. When you observe other attempts to arrange a common-law marriage of marshmallow and baked goods -- s'mores, moon pies, &c. -- the unwritten law is "the marshmallow goes on the inside," the better to protect the chewing public from the Unheimlichkeit of fingering the marshmallow hive-mind. Sno-balls ignore this important stricture, even going so far as to dust the things with coconut sprinkles inevitably reminiscent of pubic hair. Heironymous Bosch would have chorfed these things by the armload. C

Orange Cupcakes
They're orange. They don't really taste like oranges, though. They're vaguely citric, but not something you'd want to accuse an actual orange of contributing to. They're very orange, though, somewhere between "Orange Crush orange" and "Sunny Delight orange." The sort of orange you figure could substitute for road flares in a pinch. As if they were designed to coordinate well with a home made entirely out of marshmallow circus peanuts. And they taste kinda that way, too. B-

Tiger Tails
Boy, that's an appetizing name! I can taste the fur already! And they look for all the world like Twinkies that have been decorated by third-graders! Thus we continue in the grand Hostess tradition of minor revamps of classic treats, the better to stomp Little Debbie back into the unfertile soil from which she was summoned. C-

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