Friday, November 16, 2018

#52 - Marinela Pingüinos

In January of 2005, the documentary March of the Penguins was released into theaters to thunderous applause and countless (well, they could be counted, but I didn't feel it would have been the best use of my time) accolades. It was basically the Hamilton of the documentary world (in other words, it was a big hit). Caught up in the hysteria surrounding the flightless birds, my brother contacted my mother, extending an invitation to treat her to the allegedly (I still haven't seen it, actually) spectacular film.

But then something happened...

Or, rather, nothing happened.

For reasons still unknown, the trip to the movie theater never happened. Days passed. Then weeks. Then months (that's how time progresses, after all). My mother kept quiet, but she did not forget, and when my brother's birthday came around (as birthdays do), she exacted her revenge in a form she dubbed: "Penguinpalooza."

The birthday card had penguins on it. The wrapping paper had penguins on it. The majority (if not all) of the gifts were penguin related. Penguin books. Penguin socks. Even a waddling penguin pooper that ejects edible pellets from its bottom (because of course those exist; though, to be fair, penguin droppings are not without merit).

It was an effective tactic which continued through numerous subsequent birthdays (and holidays), and, for all I know, it may be continuing to this day (just more discreetly).

I mention this to explain why, when my mother sent me an article concerning international treats and I admitted I had never tried the Pingüinos mentioned in said article and then found myself in a gas station in South Carolina (in no way related to the article) with a generous selection of Marinela products (including the aforementioned Pingüinos), I had no choice but to pick up a pack of the cream-filled cupcakes.

I mean, I could probably use a pair of penguin socks (who couldn't?), but I've already seen candy and animal feces cross paths more often than any one man should. And so, with that in mind, today's subject is Marinela Pingüinos:

Penguinpalooza insurance.

I was first introduced to Marinela via their Gansito snack cakes, which failed to wow me. Still, Marinela got a lot right, so there was plenty of room for optimism. Let's get to the review!

To start, the package design (alternate view here) is, much like all their products, expertly done. The colors catch one's eye, the cupcake graphic makes one's mouth water, and the hip penguin with his bright red jacket and ultra-cool (I'll assume that's what they were going for) headphones is well drawn (even if I'd never want to meet him in real life). Plus, the front boasts that the treat is a good source of calcium, and that's always my top priority when selecting snack cakes!

Now, it occurs to me that Marinela seems to have a bird theme for its mascots (no, really!): first the Gansito gosling (who on newer packages sports more of a hipster vibe), and now the Pingüinos penguin ("pingüinos" is Spanish for "penguins," by the way; Marinela needs some help in the naming department). In keeping with tradition, I feel obligated to give the Pingüinos mascot a nickname, and so I'm going with Penguindict Cupcakebatch (for obvious reasons).

I do have to say that I can at least see the penguin inspiration in this case (though it's a bit of a stretch); the white-on-black (well, dark brown) motif is sound enough. But Marinela could have stood out some by altering the squiggle on top (which does not fit the penguin theme very well) into a more unique shape/form. Perhaps Penguindict Cupcakebatch is more of a conformist than he'd like you to believe.

Anyhow, the expiration date (which I forgot to take a separate photo of but is clearly visible on the front of the package) seems alarming, but that's just because other activities (such as eating candy) and mild illness got in the way of writing this review. I actually ate my Pingüinos with days to spare. So it's all good.

I did manage to snap a picture of the nutrition facts panel (go me!):

It all evens out in the end.

Pingüinos compare quite well with Hostess Cupcakes (which the product is clearly emulating). They are slightly smaller, but I'm hoping that just means they're packed with flavor (they've got less calcium, by the way). Being more familiar with candy bar stats than those of snack cakes, I was pleasantly surprised with the Calorie count. Two cupcakes is about one and a half (typical) candy bars, Calorie-wise, despite looking larger. That may be something to keep in mind when my sweet tooth is getting out of control (though the amount of sodium is much, much higher; I can't win).

Are these healthy? By no means. But then, one does not browse gas stations if one is looking for health foods, does one? No, one most certainly does not.

Just to be sure, why don't we check the ingredients list... Oh wait, the ingredients list is practically unreadable without beginning to open the packaging. Well, that's either a blunder on Marinela's part or an underhanded way of compelling consumers to buy Pingüinos (I can imagine places posting "You look at the ingredients, you buy it!" signs to take advantage of the "feature").

Fortunately, I've already bought it, so I can start the unwrapping process and take a gander (sorry, that expression must've been left over from my Gansito review) at the ingredients:

The further you read, the more the plot thickens...

While not nearly as formidable as the Gansito ingredient list, Pingüinos are not a simple product. The number of ingredients necessary to produce cream-filled chocolate cupcakes is, quite frankly, astonishing. The entries also stray from what I encounter in candies and other sweets; things like sodium aluminum sulfate, sorbitan monostearate, titanium dioxide, and (maybe most frightening of all) locust bean gum can sound frightening (especially if you struggle with chemophobia). But truthfully, some of the most terrifying (exhibits A and B, for instance) candies I've had the misfortune of consuming have had the most normal-sounding ingredients, so I'm not too concerned.

But should I be? Only one way to find out...

They look just like penguins!

Tearing open the wrapper resulted in the familiar aroma of Hostess Cupcakes. Seriously, I don't think I could tell them apart in a blind smell test. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but neither is it necessarily a good thing, as Hostess Cupcakes are just okay to me (sorry, Hostess). Don't get me wrong, I'll eat them without hesitation; they're just not high on my list of favorite Hostess products.

I did notice that my Pingüinos appeared a tad dry, but since the "best before" date was still days away, I figured it was within the acceptable range of normalcy.

Though, if it looks like a Hostess Cupcake and smells like a Hostess Cupcake, logic would suggest that it probably tastes like a Hostess Cupcake, right?

As usual, no. Quit jumping to conclusions, will you?

This is not, I repeat NOT, a Hostess Cupcake. I promise!

I don't know if it was the locust bean gum or perhaps just the penguinicity (for lack of a better word) of it all, but I noticed a distinct difference in both the taste and consistency. And I mean that in the best way. The more I thought about what I was experiencing, the more convinced I became that it was something special. The chocolate cake was delectable. The cream filling was delicious. It was, in a word, fantastic, superior to the original Hostess variety in every way.

My initial thought upon finishing off the second cupcake was to rate Pingüinos a high 3, but further contemplation led me to decide I needed to just go ahead and give it a 4. And so that's what I've done. I just couldn't shake the memory of how much I enjoyed eating the cupcakes (seeing the empty package afterwards was a sad sight, indeed), and I instantly regretted not having bought more. I even found myself planning to purchase a pack (or two) if I happen upon them again.

Needless to say, I'm a fan. Top-notch work, Marinela! I had my doubts, but you've made a believer out of me.

And Mom, if you're reading this, I hope I've reviewed the Pingüinos in a time and manner acceptable to you.

Waiting in nervous anticipation,
The Sweets Fiend

I considered drizzling chocolate over them for authenticity, but I was fresh out of melted chocolate (I'm so embarrassed)!