October 7, 2004:
Yes folks, it's time. When we covered Kellogg's Haunted Manor Cereals a short while back, one of the big bullet points was the extremely odd recipes printed on each box, enabling breakfast lovers the chance to create spooky snacks using Froot Loops, Apple Jacks and Cocoa Rice Krispies. We've seen likeminded recipes a zillion times before, and though they've always intrigued me, I never had enough interest to physically go through with buying all of the ingredients and preparing the what-the-fuck goodies. That all changed once I saw the recipe for "Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts." Once I saw that recipe, every last facet of my life was forever changed.
Here's the deal - each of the three Haunted Manor cereals includes a weird Halloween snack recipe using one of the other Haunted Manor cereals, so while Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts call for Apple Jacks, you can't get the tutorial unless you pay off Toucan Sam. Fuck that, I hate it when large food corporations assume that everyone likes Froot Loops. I hate it even more when they won't give out neat recipes unless you buy Froot Loops. Today we cut out the middleman. I'll show you how to make the sick banana ghouls myself. And then you will put me in your will. I want the car.
The two other recipes were interesting, but nothing too abnormal. Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts are anything but normal. I've never seen a more ridiculous yet endearing attempt to turn cereal into something more, and I must say: the results were actually good. I can stand by Kellogg's claims and tell you that these things are totally worth making, if not for the taste, then for the fact that you can skip around town tomorrow confident that you're the only one around who made Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts the previous night. Here lie the instructions...
What You'll Be Needing: A box of Apple Jacks, semisweet morsels which in some circles are called chocolate chips, butter or margarine, a few bananas, and a handful of popsicle sticks. Amazing to think that this ragtag bunch of criminal outcasts will soon merge together into something worth writing a made-for-television movie for. Kellogg's always aimed high.
First, empty out the box of Apple Jacks into a shallow bowl or cake dish. If you're using the Haunted Manor version, you may want to remove the skull-shaped marshmallows and reserve them for future projects. They won't detract from the taste if you leave 'em in, but the Banana Ghosts won't look quite the same as pictured on the box. I'm shooting for a faithful recreation, so out they went. Put the tray aside and try not to look at it for the next several minutes. It'll distract you from the rest of the process, a process that requires as much precision finesse as shitting in a box.
Pour half a cup of chips and three or four tablespoons of butter into a nonstick pan and apply low heat, stirring constantly. I stress the "constantly" part - this stuff burns to a crisp easily, so if you go fill a glass of water or tie your shoes while the heat is on, prepare for some Ooey Gooey Banana Burn Victims. Eventually, the butter and chips will become romantically entangled and reemerge as a muddy chocolate substance akin to better-smelling tar.
While all of that's going on, peel two bananas, cut 'em crosswise and shove popsicle sticks in the cut sides, pushing up until they're firmly in place. I've never told anyone this, but I hate bananas. I hate bananas more than I hate anything else on the planet, including mayonnaise and the guy who used to spontaneously rap during Blueblockers infomercials. It's been like this for as long as I can remember, and the hatred extends well past literal bananas. I can't eat banana-flavored candy, can't chew banana-flavored gum, and when it comes to those artsy banana chips, I'd sooner swallow the phlegm you coughed up during asthma season last winter.
If I was two steps away from death and all I needed to stay alive was a potassium boost, I'd still give bananas the finger. Point is, I can't actually eat Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts. However, I'm free to offer them to any guests who drop over from now till April when I finally bring myself to throw away my poor ooey children. Don't spend as much time waxing bananalogical as I have during this step, or your chip/butter combo will come out all funky.
That's how it should look, I guess. Blackish, liquidy - like the creature who ate four of Hollywood's finest in Creepshow 2. As you can surmise from the ingredients involved here, Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts aren't exactly good for you. But they're so darn cute.
I'm reminded of the time an albino ape started fucking his diarrhea at the zoo. But they're so darn cute.
Yeah, so you grab the naked banana pops and smear them with the watery chocolate until they're completely saturated. Leave no spot unchocolated. Shake any obvious excess globs off, and allow the bananas a few seconds to stand and become accustomed to their new chocolate home.
Finally, we're up to the good stuff. You've got your chocolate drenched banana halves perfectly impaled onto popsicle sticks and ready for action, so it's now time to -- as the directions on the cereal box say -- "roll" them through the troth of Apple Jacks. I naively believed this would work, but of course, trying to roll one of the things over an incredibly bumpy pile of Apple Jacks only results in all the chocolate running off and absolutely not a single piece of cereal sticking to the bananas. So, Dear Kellogg's: test before you preach.
Instead, use your higher brain function and just tack on the Apple Jacks piece by piece. Longer? Yes, but it's the only way to make your Ooey Gooey Banana Ghost a candidate for the Miss Ooey Banana Ghost 2004 pageant. Just don't be a stage cook, or your Banana Ghost will grow up all warped and shit.
It's a messy process; I won't rule out the potential benefits of wearing dye gloves while preparing these. Is all the trouble worth it? Can the payoff possibly justify the seven minutes you spent stirring butter and playing with cereal? I challenge you to say "no" after seeing the next photo. ENGARDE:
See that little perfect dab of chocolate off in the distance? Pretty, huh? I learned it from Emeril and its placement was completely intentional.
Not that this is a complex work of art, but I credit Kellogg's for providing a recipe that let you recreate what was shown on the box down to every last nuance. After all, the only people who make Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts are the kind prone to fall in love with crude marker drawings of Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts on recipe panels. Marker drawing, I think I love you.
After making a couple of these, cover 'em up real nice and shove them in the freezer, preferably overnight. Yes sir, these are frozen treats. I was going to skip this step and just tell you I did it, but I'm glad I played by the rules because frozen OGBGs somehow look 8000x more appealing than the room temperature versions.
For reasons only the world's top scientists could explain, frozen Apple Jacks darken in color several shades, ultimately appearing almost like jade. The once drippy chocolate has transformed into a perfect shell, protecting the chilly bananas from a freezerburn, rotting and even high grade nuclear blasts. It's basically a Good Humor ice cream cone without the cone or ice cream. I can't imagine people not being into these, assuming they have no strong aversion to bananas and Apple Jacks. As said, the former makes me wretch, and I can only sit in self-imposed purgatory, always to think about the Ooey Gooey Banana Ghosts, but never to eat them.
Recommended, big time. These stupid things will be a hit with just about anyone who isn't being asked to eat them in public or in front of hot chicks. This is the most fun I've had with Apple Jacks since Kellogg's shoved Tale Spin stampers in each box back in '91.
- Matt (10/07/04)
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