Sugary Saturday Memories: 10 Lost Cereals We’ll Never Forget

If you’re anything like me, of a certain age, you look back fondly on your time as a kid, especially the weekend. To be specific, Saturday morning. Why Saturday morning? Cereal. Cereal and cartoons.

Saturday was the one day of the week when you wanted to get out of bed early. No threats from mom or dad, no overhead lights flipping on to drag you out in time for school. You were up. Willingly. Eagerly.

You’d then pour yourself a heaping bowl of sugar–coated, crunchy goodness and plop down in front of the TV for a cartoon watching, cereal-crunching extravaganza.

Read More: WIC Expands Cereal Options for Families in Washington

Saturday morning was the only time for cartoons. No internet, no on-demand streaming—just airwaves and an antenna. If you missed a show, you were out of luck until next week. I once explained this to my kids, and they stared at me. Bewildered. Confused. But that’s a story for another day.

Because today, we’re talking about cereal. Sugary, crunchy bowls of delight. Good for us? No. Good? Absolutely.

So, here’s a list of 10 cereals I recall fondly from my childhood (and a little later to be honest) that aren’t around anymore.

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Sir Grapefellow

Peak Years: Early 1970s

Manufacturer: General Mills

General Mills decided to create their own cartoon-like cereal mascots to compete with the ever-growing Saturday morning lineup. Enter Sir Grapefellow, a gallant, purple-clad pilot promoting a grape-flavored oat cereal with sweet grape marshmallow star-bits. Grape? Really? I don’t recall ever craving a grape-flavored cereal—or thinking, “You know what would make this better? Grape.”

It’s safe to say this one was probably doomed from the start. Might’ve stuck around longer if it had been literally any other flavor. Clearly launched before the days of market research and focus groups.

Baron Von Redberry

Peak Years: Early 1970s

Manufacturer: General Mills

Sir Grapefellow’s mortal enemy, Baron Von Redberry, flew onto the scene with a cereal that was far more palatable than his rival’s. His berry-flavored oat cereal—with sweet berry marshmallow star-bits—was actually... not bad. Let’s be honest: any kind of berry beats grape when it comes to breakfast cereal. Strawberry, raspberry, mystery-berry—it doesn’t matter. Berry wins.

The idea of dueling breakfast mascots? Brilliant. Honestly, we could use more of that. Imagine the mascot for Hairy-Sasquatch Nuggets stomping through the cereal aisle, squaring off against the Cheerios Honeybee or throwing hands with the “K” from Special K. Someone needs to make that cereal happen. I'd buy it just for the commercials.

Crazy Cow

Peak Years: Mid-1970s

Manufacturer: General Mills

Now this was a cereal. Crazy Cow hit shelves in the 1970s and was an instant favorite. It came in two flavors—chocolate and strawberry—and each piece was coated in a magical powder that dissolved into the milk. The result? Instant chocolate or strawberry milk at the bottom of your bowl.

Genius. Delicious. And honestly, way ahead of its time. Why aren’t more cereals doing this? Forget whole grains and fiber content—give us milk that turns into dessert. More like this, please.

Smurf Berry Crunch

Peak Years: Mid-1980s

Manufacturer: Post

The Smurfs invaded our lives in the 1980s—at least in the U.S. Originally based on a Belgian comic series from the 1950s, they had already spent decades tormenting Europe before crossing the Atlantic. Once they arrived, they were everywhere: lunchboxes, shoelaces, night lights, probably toothbrushes. Smurf-mania was inescapable.

So of course, they got a cereal. Smurf Berry Crunch was... fine. Berry-flavored, vaguely fruity, and blue enough to stain your tongue. But here’s the thing—it should’ve been shaped like actual Smurfs. Give me a spoonful of Papa Smurf. A crunchy Brainy. Even a marshmallow Gargamel. Instead, it was just generic berry bits.

Smurf-mania eventually died down, but don’t be fooled. They’re never really gone. They’re lurking. Waiting. Watching. And probably planning another cereal.

C3POs

Peak Years: Mid-1980s

Manufacturer: Kellogg's

Introduced after Return of the Jedi, C-3PO’s came to breakfast tables with the tagline: “A new force at breakfast.” The cereal itself? Honey-sweetened oat pieces shaped like figure eights. That’s right—figure eights.

Not droids. Not spaceships. Not even vaguely humanoid outlines. Just loops.

Look, if they could make Flintstones vitamins in the shape of Fred, Wilma, Barney, Betty, and even Dino, surely they could’ve cranked out a basic C-3PO-shaped cereal. How hard is a robot outline? Legs, arms, wires, gold paint—done. Missed opportunity.

Tasty? Sure. Memorable? Not really. A new force at breakfast? Maybe for like, six months.

E.T. Cereal

Peak Years: Mid-1980s

Manufacturer: General Mills

After E.T. and Reese’s Pieces exploded in 1982, the tie-ins came fast and furious. Toys, lunchboxes, bedsheets—you name it. And, of course, there was E.T. Cereal.

Unlike the notoriously awful video game tie-in (a disaster worthy of its own archaeological dig—but that’s a story for another day), the cereal actually did okay. It had a chocolate and peanut butter flavor meant to mimic Reese’s Pieces, and the pieces were shaped like capital E’s and T’s. Creative? Not exactly.

Seriously—why not just shape them like E.T.? He had a perfectly cereal-friendly silhouette: big head, tiny arms, glowing finger. See also: my C-3PO rant. It’s not like the technology didn’t exist. If you can make a marshmallow Lucky Charm look like a rainbow, you can make a mini extraterrestrial.

But hey, for 15 minutes, it was breakfast gold. Then it phoned home for good.

Mr. T Cereal

Peak Years: Late 1980s

Manufacturer: Quaker

By the mid-1980s, Mr. T was everywhere—thanks to Rocky III (1982) and The A-Team (1983–1987), he had officially reached icon status. So naturally, he got a cereal. Because of course he did.

Mr. T Cereal was basically Cap’n Crunch with a slightly tougher attitude. Same sweet corn crunch, but shaped like little golden "T"s—because subtlety wasn’t the goal here.

The commercials were peak ’80s glory: “Teaming up with Mr. T for breakfast” and, of course, the immortal line—“I pity the fool who don’t eat my cereal.” Is it the best cereal slogan of all time? Maybe. Is it the best slogan, period? Quite possibly.

The cereal may be long gone, but the legacy? Solid gold. Just like Mr. T’s chains.

Cröønchy Stars

Peak Years: Late 1980s

Manufacturer: Post

The Swedish Chef—arguably one of the greatest Muppets of all time. With his chaotic culinary stylings, his mock Swedish gibberish, and the iconic “Bork, bork, bork!”, he earned cult status long before most of us even knew what “cult status” meant. So it only made sense that he’d eventually end up on a cereal box.

Several names were reportedly tossed around—Oople-Sauceys, Croonchy Poofs, Moopettes, even Stoopid Flakes (which honestly, I’d still buy)—but they ultimately landed on Cröonchy Stars. A cinnamon-flavored cereal shaped like little stars and packed with Muppet mayhem.

The best part? The back of the box featured the Swedish Chef’s own “Eating Directions”:

• Place cereal in bowl (remove from box first)
• Pour milk into bowl
• Place spoon in bowl
• Place cereal on spoon
• Place spoon in mouth
• Place teeth in cereal
• Repeat repeatedly

Now that’s my kind of breakfast instruction manual.
Bork, bork, bork!

Urkel-Os

Peak Years: Early 1990s

Manufacturer: Ralston

“Did I do that?”
My head already hurts.

Yes, Urkel, the hyper-annoying-yet-somehow-beloved nerd from Family Matters (1989–1998), got his own cereal. Urkel-Os hit shelves in 1991—strawberry and banana-flavored rings that loomed brightly over store aisles until they quietly disappeared before Y2K.

Honestly? They weren’t terrible. But they also weren’t Urkel-shaped. Missed opportunity. I would’ve chomped down a little harder if I was biting into that grinning bespectacled face. Cathartic breakfast, anyone?

But hey, it was the '90s. Anything went. Including this.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Cereal

Peak Years: Early 1990’s

Manufacturer: Ralston

The Turtles exploded in the late ’80s and by the early ’90s, they were everywhere. Action figures, VHS tapes, bedsheets—and, naturally, breakfast cereal.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Cereal was described (a bit generously) as “crunchy, sweetened ninja nets” with “ninja turtle marshmallows.” Translation: Chex-style pieces and vaguely green, shapeless marshmallow blobs. The only thing remotely “ninja” about them was the stealthy way they disappointed you.

A saving grace? The later addition of pizza-shaped marshmallows. Finally—something on-brand. But let’s be honest: I would’ve been way more excited to bite into an actual Michelangelo-shaped marshmallow. Or even a vaguely recognizable turtle head. But no. We got nets. Ninja nets.

Another missed opportunity in the long and storied history of Almost Great Cereal Ideas.