REVIEW: Supermarket cheese-topped rolls

I find the bakery section of the supermarket very intriguing, and especially the selection of individual bread rolls. My mum rarely, if ever, bought them when I was younger, and the level of mystique surrounding the contents of those brown wicker baskets remains to the present day. Even now that I’m twenty-three and miles away from home-home, I still forget that there’s nothing stopping me from sampling as many of them as I want. So that’s just what I’m going to do. I’m doing the cheese ones because everyone knows they’re the best.

This might be surprising, but this review is not going to be at all fair or scientific in nature. I’m just eating the rolls with whatever else I wanted to eat at that time, and not factoring these variables into the results at all. If you would prefer that the review were actually reasonable, then please paypal me lots of money, and I will do it.



First off, I would like to thank my friend Ollie for purchasing this roll on my behalf. Behind every great woman stands a great man in Lidl, as they say.

And what a roll it is. Confession: I’ve eaten one several times before, so knew already that it was going to pop off. The texture is perfect for a sandwich, and the shape is really cool. I was about to describe the shape as ‘exciting’ there, but thought that was probably a bit much. How enthusiastic should one be about bread-based products? It’s so hard to know.

My one criticism is that the cheese is not very strong. I do, however, enjoy the ‘crust’ format over the ‘sprinkle’ that is so often present atop supermarket cheese-bread. It’s David versus Goliath – this cheese might be naturally weaker than its opponents, but it’s giving you its best shot, and I respect that.




 For starters, I don’t like the fact that Morrisons has named their bread roll section ‘pick ‘n’ mix.’ As much as I enjoy picking out bread rolls, the thrill is not the same as actual pick ‘n’ mix, and I would therefore prefer that the two experiences were kept entirely separate linguistically.

The roll itself, however, tasted very nice, eaten with some lemon and coriander hummus that I chose from Morrisons’ almost alarmingly large hummus selection. As with the Lidl entry, the cheese was loaded on top and the bread was very soft. My only gripe with the product itself is that it was labelled as ‘cheese and onion,’ yet the onion flavour was not discernible in the slightest. Not even the merest tickle. Nothing. Zilch.




I had high expectations for this entry, mainly because it made my bag absolutely pong of cheese. I even thought other people might smell it, which I was very worried about – the last thing anyone wants is to smell someone else’s bag cheese. I was excited to eat the roll, though, because I assumed it would be a cheesy delight.

I was wrong. The cheese flavour was often barely discernible, and was very inconsistently spread throughout the roll. I ate it in disbelief. How could something smell so strong, yet taste so weak? I sure hope that Sainsbury’s didn’t do this on purpose, because if they did I am going to be very ticked off. Surely that’s illegal.




I have bad mental associations with my local Tesco, because I always seem to be a fatal combination of tired and hangry when I’m in there. Perhaps relatedly, I also feel there may be a conspiracy against me where everyone in my vicinity must walk incredibly slowly on purpose. So as you can imagine, I was not expecting much from this Cursed Tesco roll.

Boy, was I mistaken. This roll changed the game – light and incredibly cheesy, a perfect accompaniment to my the-weather-is-sweaty-so-I’m-not-turning-the-hob-on salad. I could only imagine how good it would be toasted with a slathering of Lurpak. I almost don’t want to imagine it. It’s scary to think about.




My relationship with this roll started off on a bad note. To cut a short story even shorter: the ‘cheese rustiques’ (stupid name) were mislabelled in the shop, making me think initially that I was going to have to fork out two entire, good, British pounds for the honour of purchasing one small roll. Could the emotional turmoil be undone?

To be honest, it was a very good roll. Though there was only a meagre sprinkling of cheese on the top, I was taken aback to learn that it was spotted evenly throughout the inside of the roll. What is more, I was able to identify an actual real cheddar flavour!! Nevertheless, this roll is nearly double the price of others on this list. In terms of style and shape, it was very comparable to the Tesco roll. If you’re going to charge nearly twice the price, your product has to bang nearly twice as hard. I’m not sure that it banged hard enough.


And the winner is… TESCO CHUNKY CHEESE ROLL (30p). Congratulations, Tesco. The curse has been lifted.


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