11 Discontinued '90s 'Junk Food' Snacks We Miss

There was something magical about junk food in the 1990s. Maybe it was the neon packaging, or perhaps it was the aggressive use of artificial flavors that made no promises of being "natural" or "better for you." Or you know what? It could be that there was something positively freeing about embracing the simple joy of eating snacks that had no interest in promoting your long-term health (and proudly so!). On that note, the '90s were a pretty glorious golden era of junk food excess, where all things having to do with snacks just screamed ... MORE. Is it nostalgia, or were all the ads really louder, flavors sweeter, crackers and chips cheesier? Somehow, it all seemed way more fun.

You could safely say that this was a decade when grocery store aisles felt like proverbial playgrounds. Us kids didn't just grab a snack and sneak it in our parents' shopping carts; we smuggled in those snacks with glee, because our relationships with these bites and sips felt personal. We experienced eating in the '90s. It was all volume turned up, all the time. Bright cartoon mascots stared you down, wild new flavors appeared overnight, and exciting limited editions came and went in a fever dream flash. Lunchboxes were filled with snacks that became edible status symbols, and pulling out the right one could instantly elevate your social standing. Glorious, indeed.

Wanna know more? Let's take a delicious trip back in time to these discontinued '90s junk food snacks we still dream about, and would absolutely eat again without hesitation.

If we expanded these mouthwatering peanut butter recipes and allowed snacks into the mix, Planters P.B. Crisps would certainly make the list. These wonders showed up in the early '90s and immediately felt different and tasted amazing. Picture peanut-shaped graham cracker cookies that were delightfully crunchy on the outside, filled with smooth, sweet peanut butter that somehow tasted way better than from a jar. 

These little cookies called crisps weren't pretending to be healthy (never even tried to bank on the protein factor from the smidge of PB). They just tasted really good. It was a duo (crisp cookie meets PB) that nailed the sweet-salty balance that the '90s seemed to understand better than any decade before and maybe ever since. Case in point? No one seemed to be able to stop at just a few. We gobbled them by the handful and hoarded boxes in our houses.

And then, without warning, the crisps were gone. Discontinued in the late '90s, allegedly due to low sales (a claim that feels questionable given how many people are still talking about them decades later). The proof of their popularity is that even today, there are petitions. There are Facebook groups. There are adults who simply want answers: Why?!

Those of you who remember know that Keebler Pizzarias were more than just pizza-flavored chips. They represented pizza itself, an Italian spice-infused pie somehow miraculously transformed into a crispy snack. To say that these chips achieved a startling level of realism would be an understatement of epic proportions (ask anyone, especially their diehard fanbase). Crafted from actual pizza dough and finished with a bold, uncompromising, cheesy, herby seasoning, the exact moment one took a bite of Keebler's pizza-inspired masterpieces, your brain unequivocally accepted the illusion. This was, indeed, snack sorcery.

First hitting the scene in the '90s, Pizzarias swiftly climbed the snack hierarchy to rule "Supreme" (just like our favorite pizza flavor). They were the ideal treat for sleepovers, game nights, and after-school TV marathons (without fail, the first bag to disappear among a smorgasbord of others). The unique appeal was unmatched, and although subsequent pizza-flavored goodies may have attempted to compete, none can compare.

Their eventual discontinuation sparked a wave of confusion that quickly escalated into genuine outrage among devotees. To this day, a devoted fanbase maintains that no modern snack has ever come close to Keebler's pizza taste mastery. Online, the legacy lives on through dedicated petitions, Facebook groups, and Reddit threads filled with collective heartbreak and utter disbelief. The devotion runs so deep that one fan, a professional chef, reportedly has made it their life's mission to reverse-engineer the iconic seasoning powder (it really is that serious).

One of many old-school ice cream truck treats, the popular Choco Taco has often been mistakenly described as just a snack. This description, however, would lead you astray. That's because this handheld, oh-so-cool treat was a proverbial party in your hand. Or, should we say fiesta? Picture a crunchy, creamy, chocolate-coated waffle cone, cleverly folded into the shape of a taco shell, filled to burst with smooth vanilla ice cream and a swirl of rich fudge. It was topped off with a generous rim of salty peanuts before the deal was sealed with that iconic, satisfying crack of Klondike chocolate coating, making it the ultimate, self-contained dinner-for-dessert illusion of an epic flavor explosion.

Born in the glorious mid-'80s, this faux taco had become a bona fide superstar by the '90s. In fact, spotting a Choco Taco from an ice cream truck was a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, sure to be followed by ultimate mouthfeel satisfaction and sticky fingers to boot.

But then, the unthinkable happened. In 2022, Unilever's Klondike pulled the plug on these treats. And to say that the internet lost its mind and descended into mass mourning for this beloved item is pretty dang accurate. We're talking grown adults shedding tears (and swapping swear words). TikTok has even since become a haven for desperate recreation attempts, and Reddit threads have spiraled into a shared disbelief. How could something so universally adored just ... vanish? The mystery remains.

The discontinued Philadelphia Cheesecake Snack Bars were a legend. After all, these treats were no mere mortals taking up space in the snack aisle. No sir. These cream cheese desserts were dairy royalty, a literal dream just chilling in its own special refrigerated kingdom.

To say it felt like they should have been served on a silver platter would be accurate. Okay, they did come in a shiny silver wrapper, but it is just not the same. These snacks deserved so much more. Speaking of that, imagine a buttery graham cracker crust, a sky-high, divinely creamy layer of genuine Philadelphia cheesecake, all topped off with a regal crown of strawberry or decadent chocolate. It is okay if you need to take a moment in remembrance. We might need one, too, before stepping into the history of these heavenly bites.

Born on the cusp of the millenium changeover, these mini dessert bars gave decidedly '90s vibes and felt exclusive. Parents played the classic "they're for me, not you" game, turning us into stealth-mode ninjas, mastering the art of the silent fridge raid. The thrill of bagging these fancy-seeming dessert bites was half the fun. Then, thanks to alleged production challenges (a word salad cop-out that still stings more than an onion to the eye), these snacks were discontinued, and the world hasn't been the same. We've seen copycat recipes (bless their hearts), heartfelt petitions, and grown adults admitting they're still in mourning. Clearly, we cannot make the demise of this treat make sense.

Just for a moment, let's forgo everything you thought you knew about proper eating protocol. You know, the table manners and stuffy etiquette of it all. Because we are going back to 1994, when free-range snacking was fair game, and the ultimate sport was somehow making your way to finishing a Fruit String Thing.

Born in an idyllic era known for its neon windbreakers, snazzy LA gear sneakers, and total lunchroom anarchy, this wasn't just a fruity gummy snack. This, my friend, was a DIY masterpiece gifted to us on a tiny makeshift cardboard canvas. And the best part? We were the mini Picassos. Who doesn't recall unzipping your lunchbox to discover a bright red rocket or a psychedelic star made entirely of fruit-flavored rope just waiting to be unfurled? But we all knew that before a single bite, you had a job to do. You'd first need to peel off those sticky, fruity coils with surgical precision, stretching them until they hit their breaking point. Like some edible flimsy guitar string or necklace spun from sugar, this process was pure chaos but 100% fun. 

Whether you were noshing on it like neon spaghetti (à la Lady and the Tramp) or twirling the now mangled heap into a sugary lasso, the rule was simple: Play first, eat later. How we wish we could still follow them rules now. Alas, the snack was discontinued in the early 2000s, and we had to say goodbye to this "strings attached" relationship too soon.

Strap in, snack fans, because it is time to talk about a serious subject. This is no laughing matter, and we will not be giving any kudos to the clowns behind this total snack debacle. That's right, this is about the discontinuation of the beloved Kudos bar. What the genius marketing behind this snack somehow managed to pull off (at least at first) was a bona fide chocolate-covered heist of our collective health consciousness. Think about it. The brains over at Mars, Inc. took not more than a few oats, then buried them under a mountain of milk chocolate and M&Ms, slapped "granola bar" on its advertising, and we cheered and ate that sweet snack schizzle up.

And in the lunchroom? A Kudos bar was like pure gold, the leverage that could net you a bag of Dunkaroos AND a juice box in a trade. While some kids were chewing on tasteless granola blah-bars, Kudos kids were happily inhaling what we knew were essentially Snickers with a convincing alibi.

Again, the marketing brilliance knew no bounds here, with some parents, blinded by the shiny, healthy illusion, proudly tossing them into our lunchboxes, thinking they were fueling future brainiacs. Meanwhile, we were out here just buzzing on a sugar high with chocolate moustaches melted on our wide grins. Sadly, the dream died circa 2017 when they were officially discontinued, leaving a void that no (actual) energy bar will ever fill. Blasphemy to even let that thought linger.

Sometime throughout the '90s, when being cool was the ultimate goal, juice boxes made out of soggy cardboard and those sad little mini straws just got lumped into baby territory. As in, only big little babies drank out of lame juice boxes, DUH. But what were all the tweens and teens to do now? Enter Squeezits in the late '80s, the new drink on the block that quickly became synonymous with what all the hip kids were guzzling. 

And dare we admit it? There was a small tinge of violence tied to it all that felt almost dangerously cool and powerful. The plastic bottles had cartoon-like faces on them, which, if you looked closely, looked pretty terrified we were going to squeeze their little heads. And squeeze we did. Talk about a tasty power trip! You'd stand there in your neon windbreaker and Umbro shorts, death-gripping a Berry B. Wild flavor and sucking the liquid soul out of it. It was acceptable aggression, and General Mills knew exactly what it was doing. The brand even gave these bottles names, attitudes, and tiny plastic tops just begging to be twisted off.

The marketing was absolutely unhinged, featuring animated characters screaming in delightful terror as they were consumed, and we leaned into it all, hard, literally squeezing out every drop. But by 2001, Squeezits disappeared, and the party ended, leaving us in a pitiful pinch nostalgic for the '90s beverage we wish we could drink one more time.

Among many old-school snacks you won't find in vending machines anymore, Keebler Magic Middles were the ultimate "don't judge a book by its cover" snack in the '90s grocery aisle. On the surface, these cookies appeared to be your snoozeworthy shortbread discs. You know the type. Beige, bland, and boring. But after that first bite was a total plot twist no one was prepared for.

That first time you sank your teeth into a Magic Middle, you got the moniker. These were indeed magic, boasting insides that oozed, making you feel like you'd hit a hidden jackpot of fantastical fudge (there was also a velvety peanut butter version). The fillings were so rich that they felt like they belonged in a high-end bakery, rather than a packaged plastic tray taken from a grocery store shelf. In fact, using the word "filling" doesn't quite seem fair. This in-the-middle miracle was more like a gooey frosting that made tasters manic believers in minutes. Us true fanatics knew the microwave trick, too. Zapped with a couple seconds of heat, these cookies turned into a DIY lava cake situation that made your taste buds sing (and tongue scorch). But ooh, it hurt so good.

Then, around 2011, the Elves performed the ultimate disappearing act on this snack. And let's be real, nothing in the Hollow Tree has reached those legendary heights since.

Introduced in the late '80s, Shark Bites were shark-shaped gummies that gained a cult-like following partly due to their unique texture. Unlike the more glossy, sticky gummy snacks of today, Shark Bites were more matte and firm. You could say that they had a chalky, almost creamy bite that devoted fans still obsess over decades later.

But for those who know, the real draw of these delicious gummy snacks lay in the thrilling hunt for the elusive Great White. These were the very few white shark gummies that were scattered throughout packets, and finding one in your pouch practically felt like winning the lunchtime lottery. Discovering more than one? Forgettaboutit! That was just the stuff of legends. Us kids would pause mid-lunch to inspect our haul, any lucky ducks discovering a Great White celebrating and gloating, while the rest of us glared in silent jealous rage.

While they were discontinued in the early 2000s, Shark Bites' legacy lives on. You could say these yummy gummy bites have left an ocean of grief and snack despair in their wake.

Get ready to step into the groove as we take you back to perhaps the most cosmic concoction of the '90s. We, of course, are talking about Fruitopia. More than just a tasty, fruity sip, this popular '90s elixir became a full-blown New Age awakening in a bottle (or at least that was what the marketing masterminds wanted you to believe). Launched by Coca-Cola in 1994, Fruitopia promised all those who imbibed not just a refreshment, but imagination, harmony, and even inner peace. Yes, seriously.

The brand perfectly paired this enlightenment schtick with psychedelic labels and flavor names that sounded like even the execs had been meditating for a decade (looking at you, Strawberry Passion Awareness, Blueberry Watermelon Wisdom, and Citrus Consciousness). Even the commercials were freaky little mind trips, featuring dreamy tunes from artists like Kate Bush, making a gulp of fruit-flavored drink somehow feel super deep. Fruitopia totally leaned into the '90s obsession with identity, becoming a quick hit and even earning a nod from Time magazine in 1994.

It popped up everywhere, but as all vibes tend to do, things quickly shifted. By 2003, the U.S. market had clearly had enough enlightenment and bade Fruitopia farewell, leaving us all heartbroken and scratching our heads while wondering: Whatever happened to that discontinued 90s Fruitopia drink?

Launched in 1993, Tongue Splashers were gumballs that came in paint cans, which immediately made them unique and, in turn, irresistible. The flavors had slightly cheeky names, like Color Me Blue, Slime Green, and Slurpin' Purple. A little unhinged, but appealing nonetheless. We were intrigued.

It didn't hurt that these vibrantly hued orbs actually tasted good. And then there were the after effects. Whatever color gumball you chose, you could confidently expect your entire tongue, and even teeth, to match it in short order. And holding one too long on a hot day? Congrats, now your fingers are electric blue, too. Totally worth it? You bet. They were a party must-have, a guaranteed laugh, and a hilarious way to show off while making uber-funny faces in the mirror (or at your friends, while trying to contain your giggles). Parents probably secretly hated them, and us kids loved them even more because of it.

Alas, around 1999, Tongue Splashers were discontinued, potentially due to concerns over food dyes, which, honestly, tracks. Because duh, look at our tongues! But these oddballs didn't just color your tongue. They colored our childhood memories. And yes, we still miss them.