That brown thing on the far left is, according to the box, "Indy's
Hat." Next to it, a "Crystal Skull." So far, I can see it. No problem.
But the next thing is NOT actually fossilized cheese but "The Temple of
Akator." Yep, that bulbous hunk of maize is a "temple" allegedly made
of gold. You might think the next one is "Temple of Akator Stuffed into
Indy's Hat" or, as I hoped, "Blonde Russian," but it is, in fact, a
"torch." So there you have it. Let's dig in.
Not bad, really. Not great. But not bad. My self-esteem-boosting bowl agrees.
Next up, I had Eggo Toaster Sticks branded with an Indiana Jones DVD giveaway offer.
This is me wishing they made an Indiana Jones Maple Syrup, because
these things were bland and dry. But at least I didn't feel like
throwing up yet, so I count myself ahead.
For lunch, I splurged on some Indiana Jones-branded Cheddar Jack
Cheez-Its and a Dr. Pepper in a limited edition Indy can. If a taste
combination could ever be named "Middle America," it's this. As
comforting as a hug from an obese aunt.
Around mid-afternoon, I indulged in some special edition Indiana Jones
mint M&Ms and a Snickers "Adventure Bar." The M&Ms are a superb
palette-cleanser, but they're essentially mint M&Ms. Nothing to
write a blog about. However, this isn't your average Snickers, despite
the presence of chocolate, caramel, nouget, and nuts. I let it roll
around the tongue and I detect hints of coconut and spice. Well played,
Snickers.
OK, I was a little ill at this point.
Just in time for dinner, when the culinary equivalent of the
Raiders of
the Lost Ark boulder headed right for my colon.
The Burger King Indy Whopper—Two beef patties, tomatoes,
onions, pepper jack cheese (obviously, nothing says "globe-trotting
archeologist like the jack), and not one, but
TWO
kinds of mayo: Regular and "cajun." I don't know if Indy's ever been to
New Orleans and neither does Burger King, but do you see us giving a
shit?
It went down smooth, like trying to stuff a wet chihuahua into a garden
hose. My heart hurts. If Mola Ram could reach in and tear it out, I
think it'd save both of us years of headache.
After a few more mint M&Ms and a
Temple Of
Doom Mine Cart-esque bathroom experience, I put an end to my
Indiana Jones eating adventure. Now it's off to the theater to see
Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. Who wants popcorn?
