Goldilocks vs. Red Ribbon

When pressed for a full-sized birthday cake or a carb-filled quick fix on the go, you are faced with the age-old question: Goldilocks or Red Ribbon?

Both are local bakeshop businesses with small beginnings and tremendous success stories. Goldilocks began as a tiny bakeshop along Pasong Tamo, Makati in 1966; Red Ribbon first opened along Timog, Quezon City in 1979. To this day they’re both still popular with their own respective set of fans, and they manage to save our hungry, cake-hankering asses every time.

For our first round taste tests, we’ll be looking at their take on the 

Purists may shudder at the modern, commercialized breadstuff of their ilk, but for price, convenience, and the simple allure of buttery hedonism on the go, these cheese-topped brioche buns are hard to beat.

Both come pre-packaged and vacuum-sealed, making them ultra-portable and keeping the freshness intact. Both are affordable enough that you can enjoy one (two if you must) every day. And they both follow the same format of 

 as this generation would know it: an enriched yeasted dough topped with butter, sugar, and grated processed cheese. We tried the buns untoasted and straight from their packets, evaluating: dough, the topping, and the pastry as a whole.

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Goldilocks’ strikes us as the more extravagant-looking of the two, with lashings of sweetened whipped butter. But the cheese is a bit of a letdown, coming in strands that are individually dried out, like the exposed ends of a cheddar block left in the fridge for too long.

The strength of this ensaymada however is in the bread base itself: soft, yolk-y and buttery, just as a proper brioche should be. It boasts of an elastic crumb, the kind that separates into threads when pulled apart. The bread is ‘dense’, offering resistance and chew, and allows it to hold up to the topping. Still, every bite succumbs to a gratifying squish and the texture is consistent throughout.

There’s a bit of a chemical note that’s off-putting, but this is something we’re willing to overlook. Goldilocks captures the perfect ratio of sweet to salty, the quintessential flavor that makes ensaymada what it is.

Red Ribbon takes on a far more minimalist appearance, bare aside from the cheese. (Butter and sugar are still on the topping ingredient list, we assume it’s melted in underneath.) What it lacks in ornamentation, it makes up for in the cheese, coming in strands that almost meld and become one–physically and texturally–with the bread.

At first bite, Red Ribbon’s bread feels softer and airier. It’s like sinking the teeth into a cloud. But it’s a short-lived dream as the dough gets crumblier and drier toward the center. The crumb is shorter and breaks apart easier—it leans more toward the cake-y end of the brioche spectrum. And the flavor: saltier, yeastier, with less of the sweet richness and we loved in Goldilocks’ ever-so-moreish take.

This ensaymada is more subdued, more savory than sweet. True to its name, it emphasizes the cheese. But this bun suffers from an identity crisis, even though it has all the ingredients, the impression we get is more of cheese-topped sweet bread than ensaymada.

Neither piece scored a perfect ten. But they seem to complete each other: where Goldilocks’ falters, Red Ribbon excels, and vice versa. Red Ribbon has the better cheese topping, while Goldilocks’ bread base is a standout.

Either way it’s clear: our contenders are different specimens, each special in their own right. Red Ribbon’s is lighter and less sweet; theirs is all about the cheese. Goldilocks’ is richer and heftier, with better balance between sweet and salty.

Given this, choosing the winner is a matter of preference. Red Ribbon’s appeals to the mature palate with their sophisticated take. To us, the essence of 

 is in the flavors of butter, sugar, and cheese, the harmony of which is better executed by Goldilocks.

Call us cheesy (no pun intended) but to us, Goldilocks’ is the only one.

This article was originally published in 2016.

Read the rest of our three-part Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon taste tests here:

Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon: Ensaymada

Part-cake, part-dinner roll, part-Body Shop mud scrub, these roll cakes have become a cultural landmark for local gatherings—because how else can you gloat about feeding twenty people chocolate cake for less than five hundred pesos? They’re nothing fancy, but they get the work done.

After our tight ensaymada round pitting Goldilocks against Red Ribbon, we go deeper and darker. Going head to head today: the chocolate roll.

Both brands offer chocolate in no less than three forms: in the sponge sheet, the filling, and the frosting. They’re roughly of the same height, length, and format, though with a curious five-peso price difference.

The criteria: presentation, chocolate flavor, and harmony between parts. Looks-wise, it should have some semblance of finesse (before your party guests rip it apart, anyway). The ideal slice would be indulgent enough to qualify as dessert, but not too rich that you wouldn’t go back for another helping. It should be just sweet enough to please, but you wouldn’t want your guests to die from a sugar coma.

At this price point, it’s unfair to expect the nuance or depth of topnotch cocoa or chocolate, so just the prerequisite whisper of bitterness will suffice, at least to assert its chocolaty identity. But the frosting should at least agree with the cake and vice versa—balance doesn’t cost a single cent. We’re not trying to find the gold standard here, just the reliable comfort and utility of a party pleaser.

From the bright yellow box to the buttercream, Goldilocks’ roll looks like it invented the birthday party. But the cake turns out to be more sophisticated than it looks.

The frosting, for starters, is surprisingly not too sweet. It reminds me of old-fashioned condensed milk “fudge” frostings, but lightened up. The consistency is much silkier, with a goopiness reminiscent of instant pudding. While the chocolate doesn’t scream, there’s a decent amount of darkness and a malty, milky finish. It’s no full-blown fudge or ganache, but the lightness makes it a joy to eat by the spoonful.

The sponge has a relatively dense, tight crumb, which gives it enough structure to be rolled and sliced neatly. But it has the moistnessness and bounce of a chiffon. Though salty at times it also has acidity, and the flavor of cocoa boosted by what tastes like coffee. Their cake of choice is brilliant: light enough to accommodate any frosting, but with ample heft that it that it can stand on its own.

Filling up the space within is a chocolate buttercream—a polarizing addition that could drive some over the edge. But for what it is, it’s pretty darn smooth. With a whipped consistency and undertones of cocoa, it cuts through the sponge and the frosting quite nicely.

Taken altogether, the individual components manage to balance each other out, creating the impression of a decent fudge cake.

As the more expensive roll, Red Ribbon’s version commands a marginally higher five peso expectation. Looks-wise at least, it does not disappoint. The red box and dark-on-dark color scheme exude a sense of refinement.

The frosting (which doubles as the filling) is similar to Goldilocks’ in consistency, just a tad stickier. But the flavor deceives: it’s less dark, less robust. (And it bears an eerie similarity to that of Chubby brand chocolate chews.) Though not necessarily too sweet, it almost feels that way as there’s less of a bitter flavor to balance it out. Towards the end you get a milky, tropical funk I associate with palm oil or margarine. Though it does not offend, it comes across as artificial.

Their sponge matches the frosting in one-dimensional sweetness. Leaner and fluffier than Goldilocks’, it borders on dry in some areas. But you get a good contrast in texture once you take it with the frosting which clings onto its every open crumb and crevice. The crumbs, in turn, absorb the frosting’s moist squidge.

Overall, Red Ribbon’s cake loses out compared to Goldilocks’. But while the individual parts fail to impress, the way it comes together ain’t too shabby. It’s just less of a chocolate cake.

Goldilocks once again wins this round with a chocolate cake that better fits its label. It delivers, from the solo parts to the cake in its totality. If you don’t mind lugging around the tacky yellow box, you get more cake for your cash and more people to please. Isn’t that what celebrations are all about?

Read the rest of our three-part Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon taste tests here: 

Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon: Chocolate Roll

, check. It’s been an agonizing two weeks of excess after excess. But the final round goes the opposite direction—in appreciation of the simpler things.

These buttery sponge cakes better speak snacks more than dessert due to their straightforward nature. By default, they come plain and unadorned with no frosting or filling to hide behind. But don’t you dismiss them as “boring.” Oh no. Good mamon shines with a few ingredients and maximum results, with more depth than its bare-bones description would suggest.

It takes a special kind of cake to be a mamon. It’s one of those rare breeds that hits the sweet spot between stomach-filler and treat. Mamon doesn’t scream indulgence (or fuss) as much as a frosted cupcake. But it carries a sense of being special more than, say, potato chips or 

. And it caters to all ages and genders—everyone from hungry kids, office workers, and your denture-sporting grandma.

The criteria? Flavor, softness, and moisture. We’re looking for the eggy taste of a sponge cake and the richness of butter. But it can’t be too sweet or rich that it ruins your appetite for dinner. It must be fluffy in texture, but have a distinguishable bite; you want to feel it bounce back in response as you chew. And it’s gotta have enough moisture–a dry cake is a sad cake–without being greasy. Which bakeshop pulls it off better?

Goldilocks boasts of a whimsical one, with a puffy top that springs back when prodded with a finger. Though light, it carries enough structure that a single serving can fill you up.

With a poofy, pillowy center, the height makes it satisfying to sink your teeth into. This might be from whipped egg whites, but this comes at the expense of moisture; what you get is a leaner cake. It ain’t all bad though. This reinforces the texture—think of how cotton balls feel when they’re dry than when they’re dampened—and makes it easy to take bigger bites at a time without feeling overwhelming.

Flavor-wise, this is the more neutral of the two, save for a milky taste that resembles commercial Lemon Square cupcakes (the cheese or buttermilk variety, to be specific) and some added toastiness from the browned top. It’s not unpleasant, just one-dimensional.

Thankfully you’ll find butter and/or margarine cloaking its outer edges. This contributes some flavor and helps restore moisture to the areas they touch. The result doesn’t scream butter as much as its competition’s, but it tastes balanced nevertheless.

Overall this is a cake that takes after the quintessential mamon texture, with a relatively neutral flavor. This wall-sitting makes this mamon a great snack you can munch on with endurance.

Red Ribbon presents a flat pastry with a concave center. Frankly, it looks sad and deflated against Goldilocks’ perky dome. But the looks deceive. There’s a great cake waiting to be unearthed from its paper wrapper.

This mamon is far softer in the sense that it’s more delicate; you’d want to cradle it in your arms and woo it like a baby. Wispier than Goldilocks’, it may as well fly away if it weren’t for the paper cup. It’s also more tender than bouncy, melting in the mouth with little need to chew.

In spite of the lightness and smaller size you are greeted with more moistness, especially at the top. This acts like a natural glaze, which eliminates the need for frosting.

Better yet, this mamon takes you by surprise with its intense flavor. Rich with butter and yolks–and look ma, no margarine!–it proclaims itself and lingers as it dissolves on the tongue. This thing tastes more like real food than pre-packaged snack cake. You’d think it was baked at home.

All in all, past the presentation, you get a relatively sophisticated cake of contrasts: a rich, buttery flavor contained within a fragile body. Strip away the plastic, pretend to pair it with a pricey cup of tea (pinkies up of course), and get away with it.

Even with the same pastry, the two brands interpret mamon each with a different approach. Red Ribbon goes for flavor, Goldilocks goes for texture. How do you compare?

They key is defining what a mamon is and should be. And what defines a mamon is that it’s three things in one little package: a cupcake stand-in that you can eat on a plate or with your hands, a starchy, sugary solution for when you want to go light on your wallet, and a donut-like companion for a cup of hot, black coffee. It’s neither a compulsive munchie like potato chips, a refreshing picker-upper like shaved ice, nor an indulgent dessert like ice cream.

Between the two, Red Ribbon’s cake-like mamon feels less like one—it’s just a bit too rich and you don’t get the fluffy body and height that you want to bite when you have one.

We find that Goldilocks’ fluffier, just-indulgent-enough version better fits the bill. It’s not perfect, but it better represents what mamon is all about.

Goldilocks vs. Red Ribbon

Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon: Ensaymada

Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon: Chocolate Roll

Goldilocks vs Red Ribbon: Mamon