As a kid, my family had a Sunday morning breakfast ritual. Cinnamon rolls from the tube and hot cereal, either oatmeal or Coco Wheats. My brothers would battle for their favorite hot cereal, oatmeal vs. Coco Wheats, but I liked both, so I had no preference. And for the record, I always let one of my brothers have the crustless middle cinnamon roll. I was nice like that.
It wasn't until a few years ago that I realized that Coco Wheats are not ubiquitous. I thought everyone grew up with Coco Wheats, just like everyone watched Saved By The Bell and made up dances to NKOTB songs and wore B.U.M. Equipment t-shirts with their Girbaud jeans. I mean, it just wasn't questioned.
But no. My Coco Wheats-loving brother, while attending Oregon State (Go Beavers!), informed us that there are no Coco Wheats anywhere in or around Corvallis, OR. Shocking. My mother promptly purchased four boxes and FedExed them to her dear son, rebalancing the universe once again. Those boxes lasted him the rest of his college career, nursing him back to health after many late nights
studying for physics exams partying.
Coco Wheats look completely unappetizing and, to be honest, they are not really tasty. I don't know that I'd recommend them to anyone, as they taste terrible without any sweetener, and then are still a bit of an acquired taste after the obligatory dousing of honey or sugar. But for me, it's pure comfort, a taste that will always remind me of pajamas and sticky cinnamon roll icing. I even find myself whipping up a bowl for little Ben on occasion. The tradition continues.