Today Hostess announced that it is ceasing production of their mostly delicious snack products. Although I am certain they will eventually be available again (likely by another company), it is a sad day when I can no longer go to the gas station and buy a package of Zingers.
For those keeping track, Zingers were my favorite Hostess product.
The one positive thing to come out of this is that no child will buy a Hostess Pudding Pie and accidentally put it in their mouth and attempt to eat it.
I have written a review on the Hostess Pudding Pie before, and the end result was not pretty. They are chalky, tasteless, and the consistency makes me think it is filled with a cheap icing instead of delicious creamy pudding. The fact that these were ever marketed as a pudding product disgusts me and fills me with a violent rage.
So farewell, Hostess Pudding Pies! Fuck you and fuck the hard, tasteless, stale, crust you rode in on.
I have been away for quite some time, and I understand that you are all very upset. You came to this site to get some information on pudding, and instead you were greeted with old content. Nothing new or fresh has been posted in months!
I am tired of the hate mail, the angry texts, the flaming bags of pudding left on my front doorstep. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging. Things happen! Sometimes you get distracted by things like “beautiful summer weather” and “beer tasting good while laying in a hammock”. It is hard to sit down and write an article about pudding when all you want to do is see how many shots of whiskey it takes until you no longer fear the police.
PuddingReviews.com is one year old this month. It was one year ago that I got drunk in a Sizzler and decided that the world needed a new source for their pudding news, reviews, and information. I was tired of seeing sugar coated bullshit thoughts on pudding posted to someones facebook wall without any regard for what the real story is. And most of all, I needed a good way to trick myself into eating obscene amounts of pudding and not feel bad about it.
New posts are coming, my friends. I have been reaching out to new writers during our hiatus and we will be getting some fantastic content on the site soon. Reviews, recipes, puddcasts, and anything else we happen to come up with. It will be a brave new world of pudding information, written completely uncensored and available free of charge!
Keep your ear to the ground puddophiles. Shit is gonna get real.
1950’s housewives knew what the fuck they were doing By Carrie C.
Because I don’t have enough to do, I told Clint I’d do another pudding review. I’m now 25+ weeks pregnant with twins and standing for any length of time in my kitchen is hell on earth. So hey, why not offer to do a review where I cook pudding from scratch?
I happen to love pistachio pudding, and am not sure where that love came from since it only started in the past year or so. Something about the smell is so delightful, I figured homemade would be delicious! So I found this recipe online and, after scanning the comments, scaled the sugar back to 1/3 cup. Big shout out to my girl Angie at The Promiscuous Palate for meeting me at Sur La Table with her special culinary student discount. Yay! I have real ramekins!
I invited 4 taste testers to my house only to find out later that one of them absolutely thinks that pistachio pudding is stupid *cough*Clint*cough* so that was helpful. I think the exact words were “it’s a desperate man’s pudding.”
The Preparation
Holy shit. Forty-five minutes of cooking, shelling, sieving, and four hours of chilling for FOUR RAMEKINS of pudding. UM, WAT? As I sat there on my stool in the kitchen, gazing at the four small servings, I saw the ghost of a 1950’s housewife standing in my kitchen, clutching her box of Jello Instant Pudding, laughing in my stupid face. At this point, if you ask me, Jello wins this contest hands down. I don’t care if it tastes like unicorns pooping rainbows, there is no fucking way it’s worth it.
I spent about ten minutes making the Jello-Brand Instant Pistachio Pudding and spooning it into four more ramekins when I noticed the DISTINCT difference in color. While pistachios are in fact green, they are not NEON fucking green. Not last time I checked, which was about an hour earlier when I shelled the damn things by hand. This made me a little nervous about a blind taste test so I made sure to cover the entire surface of both puddings with homemade whipped cream.
The Review
Reviewer #1 (Kelly): She noticed a large distinction in flavor between the two. Ultimately she preferred the homemade version due to its texture and pure pistachio flavor. She thought that the Jello-Brand Pudding was a little bit “plastic-y” in flavor and even tasted a little like gummy candy. This is why Kelly is #1. She knows how to review food. The rest of the reviews went like this:
Reviewer #2 (Tim): Actually, I lost Tim’s notes. However, I know he began writing his review before even tasting anything. He also made some reference to the show “Justified” which I kind of liked (the poison was already in the ramekins!) but then we realized Tony hasn’t even seen Justified yet, and the joke went flat. Balls. Anyway, I think Tim liked the homemade best. Actually, I emailed him to check and he replied with “homemade, duh.” But he took all the pictures so he’s second in my List of Favorite Reviewers.
Reviewer #3 (Clint aka pistachio pudding hater): I have a blank sheet of paper with only “A” and “B” written down. Obviously he couldn’t be bothered to do much more than eat free food, drink wine, and yell at me to get this review fucking written already. Did I mention he doesn’t even like pistachio pudding?
Reviewer #4 (Tony): Tony is the worst kind of reviewer in that he is a panderer. He would prefer the homemade version in the winter (perhaps snuggling under quilts while gazing forlornly out the windows in a remote cabin) but said that the more he ate the instant version, the more he liked it. He also noted that the smell of Jello-Brand Instant Pistachio Pudding evokes a certain nostalgia and somehow we all managed to agree on this. None of us could put our finger on what exactly we were reminded of, but we all agreed it was our childhood. Which is just plain fucking weird but see my second paragraph: THE SMELL GUYS. I LOVE IT. So maybe Tony is onto something! Those test kitchen lab workers know what they’re doing when they add those artificial smells! “Needs a hint more Silly Putty and a smidge less Lick-a-Maid.”
The Conclusion
While the clear winner of the taste test seemed to be the homemade version (did I mention I didn’t even get to taste it?), I would like to personally name the instant version the overall winner. Because, frankly, I’m writing this review and did I mention I spent FORTY FUCKING FIVE MINUTES making it?
When life gives you video games, you write pudding reviews
By Clint D
My friends, I am not a rich man. I do not have the funds to go out and buy fancy pudding whenever I feel like it, and am regularly stuck with low cost pudding cups to fill the void in my heart. I have tried multiple times to get some samples sent to me so that I can give higher end puddings a proper review on the site, but unfortunately I have been largely ignored. “Big Pudding” doesn’t seem to want honest, in-depth coverage about their creamy confection. For shame!
Fortunately, one company does want me to review its product. CD Projekt RED contacted me about reviewing their new video game, The Witcher 2 on the Xbox 360. Obviously they understand hard-hitting journalism more than the pudding syndicate, and were anxious for me to write a detailed review on their new release. I told them I will gladly do it, but only in the classic puddingreviews.com style. Lets jump right in.
I found the graphics on the Xbox version to be pretty polished, although not quite as good as the PC version. This is expected since the PC version of the game would be equivalent to a large bowl of pudding, while a console version would be like a six pack of snack size cups. The large bowl is nice, but if you want to get rid of the hassle of buying a bowl, washing the bowl, scooping the pudding into a bowl, washing the bowl again, and putting the bowl away, you would probably be happier with a few individual cups that are disposable. The pudding will taste just as good, you just need to have a larger budget and some extra time to get the pudding from bowl to mouth. The game itself runs well, keeps a steady framerate, and everything is crisp and clear. I will have to say I really liked the cutscenes in the game. They were long enough to let you sit back and enjoy the story yet short enough that I didn’t get annoyed at them.
Speaking of the story, I feel that I should bring up the fact that this is truly an adult RPG. Normally this would be followed with descriptions of the blood, nudity, and strong language used through the entire game, but in this case it also has to do with the story itself. Most games hold your hand and give you all kinds of details and backstory right at the beginning, but The Witcher 2 does not give a shit about you. It will throw you directly into the middle of wars, dragons, thieves, and murders and make you learn about what is going on little by little. Just like making your own pudding from scratch without knowing exactly what you are doing, the educational value as it unfolds makes the pudding taste twice as good. It is actually refreshing to not be treated like a baby while you are playing a game that involves so many different factions, people, and plot lines.
But enough about that. When I play a game on the Xbox, the first thing I notice is the controls and how good it actually feels to play the game. I will say that The Witcher has a pretty solid control layout, but it is quite elaborate. Getting the hang of them took me quite a bit longer than the (very) brief tutorial. They could have probably fleshed out the tutorial itself and allowed a little more focus on controlling the game. Luckily, when you buy the game you get a literal fuck-ton of goodies, including a nice guide and actual paper instructions. Keep these handy, because they will be a good reference as you play through the game. Also I would recommend pairing the tutorial with a nice Hunt’s Ice Cream Sandwich pudding cup. It really goes well with the task of gathering herbs and making a healing potion. If you time your last bite with the actual creation of said potion, you are doing it right.
Can I point out that I really enjoyed the music? It was well done, and gave me that funny feeling in my ears that said “This is good stuff, I would like to hear more.” Luckily when you buy the game, you get the soundtrack as well! I really dig sitting in my office, listening to the soundtrack, and just eating pudding cup after pudding cup until I am surrounded by empty plastic containers and my stomach is pissed at what my mouth did to it.
Disclaimer : This is how I eat most meals, and this is how most meals end. My life is a combination of awesome and a complete nightmare.
So lets get down to business. Here is what I liked about the game :
The story is mature, and doesn’t make you feel like you are reading a young adult novel involving shirtless vampires and moody bitches.
The graphics, sound, and controls are on par with most higher end Xbox games. It doesn’t feel like a thrown together console port.
You get to see some boobs in the first 10 minutes of the game, and are treated with more boobs as you progress through the story.
You get a whole crapload of stuff with the game. Real instructions, a guide, a map, and a soundtrack are all included with the regular retail version of the game. When I bought Saints Row the Third, I got one piece of paper that told me to go online for all their instructions. It sucked.
CD Projekt RED is a solid company. They stand behind their product, and give the fans exactly what they crave in a video game. I cannot support them any more if I tried.
Here is what I did not like :
The tutorial was short—way too short to grasp the entirety of what the game allows you to do.
The sound was good, but I did find that when I played it on an older TV some of the voices seemed a lot louder than others.
I would loved to have a little more customization in the options menu—FOV, screen size, etc.
In short, I would recommend buying this game. The game itself is great and CD Projekt RED gives you an abundance of free stuff with your purchase. There are multiple endings you get to experience, side quests, crafting, and more bloody battles than I can count. I would compare this to a nice bowl of homemade chocolate pudding, still warm and with that delightful skin still resting on the top.
A friend of mine has written a fantastic blog post on some homemade pudding (complete with a visually appealing recipe). It contains just enough debauchery, racial slurs, and foul language to make me recommend you check it out.
Back in the early 80’s, when I was but a young tike, one of my favorite activities was helping my mother in the kitchen. I’d dry her dishes, sift flour for baking, measure ingredients, and help with the mixing. When I was young, I saw these activities as harmless fun. My God was I naïve. It took several years and countless grumblings from my father and older brother over the din of their football games, about late dinners and lumpy gravy to understand what these cherished moments of quality time were really all about. These sacred moments of maternal affection were nothing more than a veiled attempt to groom me for a lifetime of subservience. (That bitch!)
Many years have passed since my awakening and liberation from the inequitable sociable constructs that we call “gender roles”. I am a self-sufficient woman. My partner and I are equals in all senses, save the parts between our legs (and the relative size of our chests). When I had my son two and a half years ago, I swore that he would grow to be a caring self-sufficient man, able to cook and clean up after himself. Unlike my father who moved from his mother’s house to his wife’s, (although, to this day, he swears he made a pie once all by himself in the early 60’s) my son would know his way about the kitchen and be grateful for what he is able to create.
I’m sure you’re wondering by now what this quest for gender equality has to do with pudding. Well, dear readers, I urge you to think back to when you were young and looking for a snack. What was readily available in almost every household in America? No, not Pop-Tarts, Pudding! Whether instant, cook and serve, pre-packaged pudding cups, or the frozen variety favored by African American men in colorful sweaters everywhere; pudding was/is as ubiquitous as apple pie to the American psyche. The simple recipe and no-cook ease of the instant variety also happens to be the perfect introductory lesson to the field of domestic engineering.
As I’ve mentioned, I’m now a mother to a young son. He is two and a half and currently in that fleeting stage where he is not only capable, but also willing to help mom and dad (except when it comes to picking up his own toys, because; “fuck that!”) Anywho, following dinner last night, my darling son was looking for something sweet to entertain his palate before bed. Rather than caving to his request for M&Ms like a weak serving woman would, I seized the teaching moment for what it was and suggested to him that we make something special. “Cooken?” he asks me with wide and eager eyes. “Yes”, I reply “how about you help mommy make some pudding?” “YAY, pudden!” he exclaims as he crawls up his chair to sit at the table while I gather the ingredients.
His choice was vanilla pudding, as opposed to the pistachio that his father and I favor. Vanilla is a pudding staple after all and has a taste similar to the vanilla wafers he loves so much. As any eager trainee does, he followed my instructions carefully, being ever so gentle in pouring the milk, which is to say he dumped half of the first cup all over the kitchen table. When it came time to stir, he cranked the hand mixer vigorously spraying yellow blobs of vanilla goodness half way round the kitchen.
By the time the stirring was done and the pudding had settled to its creamy consistency, my son was nearly frothy with anticipation for his delicious treat. He sat anxiously in his seat, wiggling impatiently as only a toddler who is about to taste the sweet nectar of heaven can. He refused my invitation to share a single bowl and instead insisted upon having his own. As I set the bowl down in front of him, his little eyes went wide and sparkled as if it was Christmas morning and Santa himself had handed him his largest present. He picked up the spoon, gave the pudding a quick and gentle stir for good measure, and reverently placed it in his mouth… his eyes dulled; he removed the spoon and promptly spit the mouthful of pudding back into the bowl.
“Gross mommy, no like it!”
“What do you mean you don’t like it? You like vanilla cookies. Vanilla pudding is good! See, mommy likes it.”
“NO! Yucky.” He exclaims as he pushes the bowl away. “Want NNMs (M&Ms)!”
Sigh. “Fine,” I say, as I hand him a couple of M&Ms. “Would you like to help me clean up?”
“No” he says as he walks toward the living room. “Watch football wif daddy.”
As he walks into the living room I hear his father from his Lazy Boy remark, “Can you ask mommy for another beer?” My son returns to where I’m sitting alone, quietly eating my serving of pudding and says matter-of-factly “Mommy, beer for daddy”. I stand, open the fridge, and as I peer into the cold, bright light, reaching for the drink that is at least partially responsible for my son’s existence, I realize that I have failed. I am no paragon of the liberated woman. My life is a lie.
I send my son trotting happily back to his father with beer in hand, leaving nothing behind but a broken woman and a lonely bowl of sweetened, congealed confection. As I scan the mess, awaiting the attention of my adept, dishpan hands, my only comfort is in the accidental discovery of how deliciously complex the mixture of salt-tears and vanilla instant pudding can be.
Listen, I am going to admit something. I forgot to write a Valentine’s Day article for PuddingReviews.com. I know I am a horrible person, but I can make it up to you! I asked my circle of friends to give me a nice blurb that combines the romance of Valentine’s Day with the deliciousness of pudding.
Turns out people love shoving their dicks in pudding, and my social network is kinda racist. Oh well! Feel free to read the quotes below.
“While pudding is a delicious addition to any session of foreplay it should be noted that pudding is not an appropriate lubricant. If pudding is present in or around the vagina it should be washed thoroughly afterwards. The same sweetness that makes pudding delicious also makes it prime fodder for a yeast infection. Pudding is not meant to be used as birth control and will not prevent transmission of sexually transmitted disease or HIV, the virus which causes AIDS.”
“When I’m being real bitchy to my friends who are awesome, I try and eat some pudding so I’ll be less bitchy towards them.”
“Some nights my husband comes home smelling like a 75 year old hooker but I don’t have the energy to burn the bed while he sleeps. On those nights, I find comfort in a bowl of Pistachio flavored Jell-O Brand Instant Pudding.
Thanks Jell-O!”
“Jell-O Brand Instant Pudding. Doubling for a vagina on Valentine’s Day since 1934”
“I’ve never had a nice Valentine’s Day. Sure I’ve gone on romantic dinners with beautiful ladies wearing their nicest dresses; but until I meet the girl who is into me dipping my penis in a pudding cup for her dessert I will never know romance.”
“Pudding makes me feel less like a loser for being single on Valentine’s Day.”
“Eating chocolate pudding is the closest I’ve come to banging a black chick….and I’m strangely comfortable with that”
“If you’re using a pudding cup as a vagina on Valentine’s Day, and you can fit the whole thing in there, there’s probably a reason you’re single on valentine’s day.”
“I love pudding the same way that a 10 year old loves Harry Potter. Or that a pedophile likes Harry Potter fans.”
“My love is like a snack pack
That’s newly shipped to store
My love is like the Jello cup
That’s sweetly begging “More”
So fair art thou, my pudding cup
So deep in love am I;
And I will love thee still, my dear
Till all the pudding’s dry
Till all the pudding’s dry, my dear
which is a time frame nigh irrational
And I will love thee still, my dear
Cause you know that shit’s not natural”
“Want to add some flavor to your sex life on Valentine’s Day? Do you want to get down and dirty too? I’ve got one word for you, Pudding. Spread that delicious pudding all over your partner’s breasts and then lick him or her clean again. Feel free to repeat this as many times as you want. It’s enjoyable for everyone involved, trust me.
Just don’t put it inside her cuca because she’ll get a yeast infection.”
“Your sweet embrace envelopes me, just as your gelatinous skin hugs your essence.”
“I talk in pudding code with my friends. Chocolate is fine black pussy. Vanilla is fine white pussy. Bread is for all other shades of our glorious rainbow of humanity and their fine pussy’s. Tapioca is code for when that funky junk pussy…and I’m not talking about the monthly.”
“like watching a hooker pass out on a pole mid-dance” By Carrie C.
Well, I told Clint I would write a review, even though I’m 14 weeks pregnant with twins and my nausea has forced me to believe that steak is disgusting and pickles are the best thing I’ve ever eaten. In fact, I’m so sick of the word “nausea” that from now on, I’m just going to refer to it as “rubber duckies.” Sounds cuter and less whiny.
So last night I made the trek to the grocery store to fill up my cart with delicious sounding food and snacks that will no doubt strike me as being completely unappetizing later and continue to sit unopened in my pantry/fridge/freezer until I’m no longer a shell of my former self.
The Pudding Aisle
My first thought was to buy pre-prepared pudding in those little “snack packs” because I can’t be bothered to do more than open a box or package and heat food before eating it, or else the rubber duckies will step in and the food will end up in the garbage anyway.
Staring at the flavors, my mouth begins to water. Not in the good way, the way where you are almost about to puke after too many tequila shooters 8 hours earlier and you just keep swallowing hoping to tame the puke dragon. Is it the rubber duckies, or is it the Snack Pack flavors Cinnamon Roll and Blueberry Muffin? Those are PUDDING flavors, really? I can only guess that these flavors are marketed towards small humans who eat their boogers and think purple “flavored” Mountain Dew is like, omg, so awesome!
So I moved on to the Jell-o Brand Instant Pudding in boxes. Knowing that rubber duckies will probably end this experiment before it begins, I grabbed four of the least disgusting sounding flavors: Cheesecake, Banana Cream, Vanilla, and Pistachio. Out of those four, I have the least confidence in Cheesecake. Cheesecake is not pudding, just like pudding is not a fucking blueberry muffin. Anyone who thinks otherwise is probably lying to themselves so that they can brag about having a Key Lime Pie to their friends as they eat a stupid little container of Yoplait. They’re called actors and dieters. I’m glad I don’t know any or I’d punch them. Unless they are rich and want to buy me stuff.
I should tell you that, as I write this, I’m halfway through a bowl of pudding and it is the best thing I’ve had in days. But I’m jumping ahead.
The Taste Test
I am in my pajamas and just finished a lunch of egg rolls because they have vegetables in them and my babies need nutrition, yo. It’s time to make some pudding! I have chosen…
Banana Cream! Fuck do I love bananas right now. Refreshing, sweet, cures my heartburn. What’s not to love? The box says it takes five minutes to make, factor in two more because I had to stop to pee.
By the way, never make pudding in a square container. The whisk can’t get into the corners. Fortunately I noticed this when I was about to refrigerate the pudding to set and was able to get a spoon in there and do some extra whisking.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m eating Banana Cream pudding out of the container in the middle of my kitchen. And it was amazing. Not only are my rubber duckies nowhere to be found, but it actually tastes GOOD. Like, SO FUCKING GOOD. Not as good as a Snickers bar, but pretty damn close.
I just realized that I’m eating a pudding flavor that is a pie. BUT IT DOESN’T SAY PIE ON THE BOX. It just says Banana Cream. That’s a flavor. Not Key Lime Pie. That’s a pie, not a yogurt.
The Review
Pudding is good. Jell-O Brand Instant Pudding in Banana Cream is amazing. It had a great texture – better, in fact, than any Snack Pack that I’ve had recently. The taste was pure banana but the smell also reminded me a little of banana Runts. And I love me some banana Runts.
I give this pudding 5 out of 5 stars. I actually don’t know Clint’s stupid rating system. Maybe I should compare it to something he understands. It’s like eating 20 dollars worth of Taco Bell after getting drunk. Or like watching a hooker pass out on a pole mid-dance. Whatever.
A new photograph appeared on the
drive-thru menu at Taco Bell last week. A golden pie’s crust, from which burst a silken tsunami of
chocolate pudding. The Taco Bell Chocolate Empanada. Who could pass up such an opportunity? I ordered one up immediately, and ate it on the drive home.
This pudding was stupendously
presented. Served in a paper sleeve that crackled delicately to the
touch, the piping hot dessert was perfectly symmetrical and had been
fried to rich hues of gold and brown.
The first bite contained strong notes
of sugar, saltine, Gobi desert, the moon, old dead tree leaf, and
ancient Egyptian mummy, evocative of having slept with the mouth open
for nine hours with a space heater directed at the face, on the porch
of my summer home on the sun. I found myself rendered incapable of speech or mouth-whistle
for an entire evening, so hot and dry was this dessert.
Either Taco Bell was experimenting with
the notoriously difficult hot and dry handheld pudding, or I had
just taken a run at an empty pie crust. I peered into the newly-made
bite hole as one might peer into the business end of a telescope or
the finger hole of a bowling ball. And what else should I find but
all of the pudding, cowering in fear at the opposite end of the
empanada? My direst suspicions confirmed! I submit to you, the
reader, that in pudding there is no less admirable quality than
cowardice.
It was at this point that the empanada
shattered in my grip and the truck in front of me abruptly braked. As is often the case when one
is juggling a molten globe of chocolate pudding while averting an automobile collision, instinct
immediately took over, and I have no clear memory of those next few moments that can be recounted sensibly. I will say that, despite the fact that I had been driving like an idiot, and that the driver of that truck was a huge dipshit, I cannot help but feel that the entire ordeal was completely and totally the pudding’s fault.
I eventually managed to consume the
remainder of the mangled pastry. The pudding itself was hot, sugary, grainy, and brown. By the third bite, I was able to identify the qualities of chocolate which the chef had chosen to mimic when the dessert was engineered. I actually learned many things regarding my perception of what makes chocolate pudding ‘Taco Bell Chocolate Pudding’ while eating this empanada.
That said, I will never eat one of
these ever again. Flavor issues aside, this will not be a viable
pudding solution until the structural integrity
and crust/pudding ratio issues have been addressed.
Memories taste a little bit like
chalk, and a lot like failure By Clint D.
When I was young I remember rare
occasions when one of my parents would stop at a gas station to fill
up the truck and I was allowed to go in and pick out a snack. I
vaguely recall eating a Hostess “Turtles Pie” which was
basically just a vanilla pudding pie, but the crust was green and it
had a picture of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the
wrapper. I remember them being delicious and the fact that Raphael
was on the front smiling and ALSO eating one made me think I was one
step closer to actually becoming a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.
I have tried to find these recently,
but unfortunately they are no longer made. Hell, I couldn’t even
find a Hostess Pudding Pie that was just plain vanilla. So I decided
to say “fuck it” and just go out and buy a Hostess
Chocolate Pudding Pie and see if I could rekindle my love for pudding
in pie form. Even if there isn’t a ninja turtle on the
package.
I opened the package and stared at the
crust, which had a nice glaze on it similar to a doughnut. I was
very excited at this point, so I took a big bite and let myself
really absorb the memories.
I almost vomited immediately after my
first bite. For someone to call this pudding would be an insult to
pudding everywhere. The chocolate substance inside the crust was
hard and thick, like cake frosting that had went far beyond its
expiration date. One would think that since it had the word
“pudding” on the package it would at least have the
consistency of a proper pudding. It did not.
In an act of desperation I decided to
stick it in the microwave for a few seconds. Maybe it just needed to
warm up a bit so that the gel inside would loosen up? I never
remember heating up my pudding pies back in the day, but I do know
that I greatly prefer eating a Hostess fruit filled pie after about
30 seconds in the microwave. At this point, I was willing to try
anything in an attempt to have a somewhat positive pudding
experience.
The result was not what I expected.
The chocolate filling bubbled up and started overflowing out of the
crust, and when I removed it from the microwave it immediately
deflated like a party balloon. The result was a sticky, hot, filmy
brown substance. Since I am a professional, I took another bite to
see if it tasted better than it looked and was sorely disappointed.
It tasted the exact same as before, only now it was hot and the
consistency was like eating chocolate mousse that had been sitting on
a hot sidewalk most of the afternoon.
My overall experience with the Hostess
Chocolate Pudding pie was extremely foul. I could not finish the
entire pie, and it bummed me out for the remainder of the day. I
would not wish this snack on my worst enemy.
I have been away for quite some time, and I understand that you are all very upset. You came to this site to get some information on pudding, and instead you were greeted with old content. Nothing new or fresh has been posted in months! 
Because I don’t have enough to do, I told Clint I’d do another pudding review. I’m now 25+ weeks pregnant with twins and standing for any length of time in my kitchen is hell on earth. So hey, why not offer to do a review where I cook pudding from scratch? 
Holy shit. Forty-five minutes of cooking, shelling, sieving, and four hours of chilling for FOUR RAMEKINS of pudding. UM, WAT? As I sat there on my stool in the kitchen, gazing at the four small servings, I saw the ghost of a 1950’s housewife standing in my kitchen, clutching her box of Jello Instant Pudding, laughing in my stupid face. At this point, if you ask me, Jello wins this contest hands down. I don’t care if it tastes like unicorns pooping rainbows, there is no fucking way it’s worth it.
Back in the early 80’s, when I was but a young tike, one of my favorite activities was helping my mother in the kitchen. I’d dry her dishes, sift flour for baking, measure ingredients, and help with the mixing. When I was young, I saw these activities as harmless fun. My God was I naïve. It took several years and countless grumblings from my father and older brother over the din of their football games, about late dinners and lumpy gravy to understand what these cherished moments of quality time were really all about. These sacred moments of maternal affection were nothing more than a veiled attempt to groom me for a lifetime of subservience. (That bitch!)
