Weird Soda Review

Flying Cauldron Butterscotch Beer

2012-02-12T14:55:00.000-08:00

In the Hawthorne Country Store, we managed to obtain several Weird sodas along with our new Buff Orpington chick (for the full, thrilling story, see our review of Squamscot Grape). Today, we'll be trying the second of the bunch.

Being geeks, we at the Lab are all extensively familiar with a certain very popular book series describing the adventures of a certain boy wizard in Britain (all of us except Nazgul, who has not yet read the sixth and seventh volumes in the series). We all enjoyed it, and I was especially happy when I discovered that the Wizarding world has its own peculiar Weird beverages. Several are described, but the one which the main character likes best is called "butterbeer". While it is never described in great detail, we do know that (1) it foams, (2) it is often served hot, (3) it is very popular with wizards and witches of all ages, and seems to serve a role analogous to sodas in Muggle America.
As an example, here is a brief quote from the protagonist's first experience with butterbeer:

"As the hot butterbeer trickled down over Gandalf's pale skin, Galadriel trembled with anticipation. 'I cannot deny that my heart has much desired this...' she whispered. Gandalf's staff rose..."

Oops. Er...that's not it. Wrong file. I'm sorry, that's an excerpt from Hot Caras Galadhon Knights, by Edmund Wells, the well-known Dutch author. Just a moment...here it is.

"Harry and Hermione made their way to the back of the room, where there was a small, vacant table between the window and a handsome Christmas tree, which stood next to the fireplace. Ron came back five minutes later, carrying three foaming tankards of hot butterbeer.
"'Merry Christmas!' he said happily, raising his tankard.
"Harry drank deeply. It was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted and seemed to heat every bit of him from the inside."

Butterbeer makes several more appearances in the story. In fact, I think one could write a scholarly paper exploring conflict over butterbeer reserves and supply lines as a contributing factor to the rise of Voldemort and the outcome of the war. Acquisition of butterbeer can be seen underlying many crucial plot points and character decisions in the books. I note, for example, that Harry used his invisibility cloak to escape from his school, risking expulsion, for the purpose of getting that butterbeer*.

Well, at the Hawthorne Country Store, they had "Butterscotch Beer", bottled by the Flying Cauldron.

See? See the Wizarding conflicts sparked by the mere presence of butterbeer? Dueling, elf hunting, unbridled passions...it's more than I can bear.

A slightly closer inspection shows that this actually comes from Reed's, who also bottle the Virgil's line of sodas and a series of ginger beers. Given the rather magnificent quality of their regular cream soda, I have high hopes for this.
The bottle is quite striking...the label at the top claims this to be "A Magical Brew". Between that and the logo of a cauldron riding on a flying broomstick, I can't help but feel that they're referring to something. Allow me to read from the informational panel on the side of the label:

"Since 1374, the Flying Cauldron has been making this magical brew for under aged wizards or wizards who are young at heart at their brew pub in Hogsbreath England. The recipe has changed little over the centuries. It has the perfect combination of spells and quality natural ingredients. Add a scoop of vanilla ice cream to create our Giggle Potion."

I can't imagine where they got these ideas! Ah, but that's OK...since the publication of the book series made the role of butterbeer in major Wizarding conflicts plain, there has been substantial effort among epicurean fans of the series to creating butterbeer. Actually, that's not the only thing people have taken from the books; Quidditch, the leading sport in the wizarding world (a sort of rugby/football game played on flying broomsticks), has been adapted for the Muggle world as well. There are teams, leagues, and everything. My older brother coaches a Quidditch team. No, I'm not kidding. Yes, there is clearly something wrong with my genetic line.
In any case, I approve of Reed's having a go at replicating butterbeer. Perhaps they'd like to sponsor my brother's Quidditch team.

Plus, it's gluten free!

Where and when: Purchased at the Hawthorne Country Store, Escondido, CA
Color: A nice dark amber, lighter than maple syrup.
Scent: Moderately strong French vanilla scent, strongly tinged with butterscotch.
Olorin: "Smells like buttery honey."
K-i-C: "Gaaah!" *grimaces*

Taste: Wow...very sweet. The vanilla cream soda is strong underneath it, with a very powerful taste of butterscotch on top. The butterscotch is much like that in butterscotch chips. Pleasant, if potent, and certainly interesting.
Olorin: "MMMMMM!"
Nazhul: "Mmmmmm."
K-i-C: *grimace* "Tastes like butterscotch. Which, I suppose, is appropriate.
You know, adding vanilla ice cream to this would make it *less* sweet."

The Kibbitzer seems to find this overwhelming. I guess I can see that, it's powerful stuff. I'm liking it pretty well, though, and the junior staff members are asking for more.

K-i-C: "In fact, why is the sweet lasting so long? What's in this?" She looks. "Ahhh...stevia."

She's right. This stuff is sweetened with cane sugar (quite a bit of it), with added vanilla and caramel, but then the bottler seemed to think that what it *really* needed was some extra sweet, so they threw in some Stevia. Because...why not? Plus, with the gluten-free aspect, I think it's now a health food.

K-i-C: "I like the kind we made better. With cider, melted butterscotch chips, and vanilla ice cream. This would be better with Johnny Apple Treats dissolved in it."**

To be honest, I don't like it as much as their regular cream soda, but that's all right. It's still pretty good, and I have to give them extra points for going to the effort of making a strong reference to a good speculative fiction series. Plus, it's butterscotch, and that makes for a good Weird soda. Well done!

Quaff rating: 3.5. Tasty, but not magnificent.
Cough rating: 0.5. Probably too sweet. Was the Stevia really needed? Plus, just kind of overwhelming.

*Well, that and seeing his friends, visiting Hogsmeade, and eavesdropping on conveniently-located conversations about critical plot information. But I think the Weird soda was his primary goal.

**Yes, the Lab did once get together with some other families and have a cooking party in which we made recipes based on the book series, including an attempt at butterbeer. It was good. We are not ashamed.

Squamscot Old Fashioned Beverages: Grape

2012-02-08T22:51:00.000-08:00

Really, there's only one way for someone like me to do a review of something called "Squamscot".

THE HORRIFYING TALE OF ANGUS MAC NYOGTHA, THE SCOT WHAT SHOULD NAE HAVE BEEN

Och, it was on the wild moors where I first saw Angus. 'Twas when the moon rose leprous o'er the heather that I first heerd the skirlin' o' his unspeakable pipes. The hideous pulsin o' the drone summoned visions o' vistas not meant to be seen by the likes o' man. E'en now, I shudder to think of it.
Through the cobwebs o' mist, I caught a glimpse of his form. The silhouette was slumped an' slippery, like a half-melted haggis icicle. I heard his hideous, croaking voice lettin' words o' hideous import dribble into the air.

"O my luuuuuve's like an ancient god,
That's can eternal lie,
O my luuuuve's seen the stars are right,
And now we're gonna die."

As he oozed into view, my mind tottered an' teetered on the very brink o'madness. That face...that voice...the squamous visage...N'gai'g'hroth...and God, O God...THAT BOTTLE O'DAMNATION IN THE HANDS O' THAT SQUAMOUS SCOT!

-from The Ballad of Angus Mac Nyogtha, music and poetry of Robert Burns*

This is one that I picked up from the Hawthorne Country Store, in Escondido.
The Lab** felt that our two noisy chickens were not causing nearly enough destruction and devastation at our facility, and so we needed four more chicks to raise. Not only that, we needed very specific breeds...one of which is known as a Buff Orpington.
I have to admit--when I hear the name "Buff Orpington", I envision a wealthy but irresponsible British rapscallion noble, who moonlights as an international secret agent and model for romance novel covers.
In any case, our usual source for livestock didn't have Buff Orpingtons, so we called around a bit, and determined that the Hawthorne Country Store in Escondido had Buff Orpington chicks. When we got there, we discovered that they also had Weird soda.
I was more than a bit surprised.
But a Quaffmaster must always be ready to seize opportunities, and this was a good one. We picked up three bottles, one of which I will review for you tonight.

"Experience the Past"? That sounds an awful lot like "The Shadow Out of Time", and THAT didn't end well for anybody.

With a name like Squamscot, it really has to be New England-based. It comes from Conner Bottling Works in New Hampshire, so it seems legitimate. Or maybe that's just what They want us to think. In any case, it claims to be old-fashioned, and grape. That's good enough for me to try it.

Where and when: purchased at the Hawthorne Country Store, Escondido, CA in January 2012.
Color: A very dark purple.
Scent: Fairly mild, grape-ish, dark and a bit herbal. Pleasant.
Taste: Oh, that's nice. It's sweet--even quite sweet--but not cloying. The sweetener is cane sugar. Very clean. It's not actual grape, of course--it's almost exactly grape popsicle, which is a very good thing.

K-i-C: "*pffuh* That's sweet. That's very, very sweet."
Me: "It's grape popsicle!"
K-i-C: "No...well, maybe grape Otter Pop..."

There is an aftertaste, but it's mild and pleasant. Just a hint of tartness.

The main taste is dominated by a fairly pure sugar taste, with faint to moderate fruit tastes at the sides. It reminds me a little of Dublin Dr. Pepper.
The K-i-C points out (correctly) that there is almost no tartness or tang in the main taste, which is interesting. It's a more pure taste than I usually get.
The K-i-C doesn't care for it at all, and thinks it's too simple a sweet taste.

K-i-C: "Even salt would be better. Maybe if you had a prosciutto soda to drink with it..."

So there we have it: an unusually simple, pure sugar with popsicle-y grape notes, and almost no tartness. I like it, but the K-i-C doesn't. But it's my Lab. MUA HA HA HA!

Quaff rating: 4.0, if you ask me. Notably good.
Cough rating: 0.5. Maybe too simple, but that's not all bad.

*Not intended to be interpreted as a factual statement of true things which aren't lies.
**To be more specific, one particular staff member. I won't say who, but her name rhymes with "Fribitzer-grin-Beef".

SOPA/PIPA and Weird Soda Review

2012-01-17T23:36:00.000-08:00

By now, you've undoubtedly heard that the US Congress is considering various legislation ostensibly designed to help protect the owners of copyrighted material from the threat of online theft and piracy.

While we at the Lab do recognize that theft of copyrighted material can be a problem, and we do support the right of creators of works to have some control over the distribution of those works, we feel that the legislation being considered (known as the Stop Online Piracy Act and the Protect Intellectual Property Act, or SOPA and PIPA) are the wrong way to address the problem.

These bills would permit (or possibly mandate) that websites accused of inappropriately posting or linking to copyrighted material be "blocked", possibly by preventing DNS systems from properly directing traffic to the correct IP address and by forcing search engines to stop returning links to the accused offenders. These powers could be invoked by holders of copyright material.

One concern is that the legislation fails to provide sufficient due process, allowing holders of material to attempt to silence websites without having to provide proof of wrongdoing. In this way, individuals or organizations might attempt to suppress the publication of legitimate work (such as parody) or other "fair use" products by invoking a preemptive silencing of a website.
As an example of how it might affect the Lab, hypothetically, the Coca-Cola company might not approve of a review in which we claim that Coca-Cola tastes a bit like lemon Pledge. They could claim that this site had violated copyright by using terms such as Coca-Cola, and seek to have weirdsodareview.com blocked for an indefinite period while the issue is resolved. It is possible to imagine this being used as a tool to suppress criticism or dissent, rather than combat theft.
This could occur despite the fact that it is perfectly legal to use copyrighted terms such as Coca-Cola in criticism, review, or parody.

In addition, the proposed mechanisms would be ineffective at deterring real piracy, as they are relatively easy to circumvent. Because of that, the bills are unlikely to actually deter theft, while making it easier to suppress legitimate use of copyrighted material.

Because SOPA and PIPA would make wielding such power too easy, but fail to actually accomplish their stated goals, we at the Lab do not support the legislation, and urge Congress to revise the bills to provide stronger protections for individuals and companies who are not actually violating intellectual property law.

Sempio Honey Rice Black Vinegar

2012-01-15T17:58:00.000-08:00

Sometimes Weirdness is thrust upon you.

The Kibbitzer-in-Chief and I were on our way to see Eddie Izzard at the Hollywood Bowl. If you've never been to the Hollywood Bowl, you're missing a treat. It's an enormous outdoor amphitheater, with seats ranging from private tables down near the stage (season tickets for these are desirable enough that people pass them on as part of their estates) to rows of benches up on the hill, far enough back that it is amusing to observe the delay between what you see and what you hear.
Guess which seats we always buy?
It's really no burden to have the cheap seats, though, because they're just as much fun. Part of the Hollywood Bowl experience is bringing a picnic dinner, which you eat at your seats before and during the performance. People bring anything from McDonalds to gourmet five-course meals on china and crystal. And at least in the cheap seats, it's not uncommon to lean over the folks in front and say "ooo, that looks good!" and end up sampling each others' food. It's a really fun, social atmosphere.
Well, we were coming up from San Diego, so we ran into traffic and ended up getting to the Park & Ride lot about fifteen minutes before the last bus to the Bowl. And, of course, we had no picnic dinner. What an unbearable arrangement! Fortunately, I am a technophile, and asked my iPod to find us the nearest grocery store. There was an Albertson's half a mile away.

Putting the pedal to the metal in my 1994 Ford Aspire*, we pulled into the parking lot...but there was no Albertson's. There was, instead, something called "Freshia".

Hmmm. Must be some sort of Whole Foods-like place. We eat lots of that kind of thing. No problem.

Er.

After entering Freshia, our first hint that there would be a minor difficulty was that we couldn't actually read anything. All of the labels were--as far as I could tell--in Korean. As we wandered the isles, acutely aware that the few minutes we had left were running down, we realized that we were faced with a scenario in which we would have to buy packages of unknown substances and hope that they were tasty (that they were, in fact, food and not auto parts).
The Kibbitzer, being a much better cook than I, took on the task of identifying edibles. In such a situation, I felt that it was my duty to find some capacity in which I could help resolve our emergency--some way in which I could provide help, solve problems, and get us to the bus with a delicious dinner.

"I've never had Korean Weird soda before!" I thought, and headed for the aisle which looked as though it had liquids.

I ended up paralyzed with indecision, having realized that I was not sure whether the brightly colored bottles with engaging (but, to me, illegible) labels were some sort of fantastically Weird soda or kids' shampoo, when the Kibbitzer found me. At a glance, she could see that not only I had been distracted from my mission, I was incompetent. I hung my head in shame.
She grabbed a couple of bottles, said "These might be interesting," and led me gently to the prepackaged food section.

Have I mentioned how good this woman is to me?

We ended up grabbing something which looked like pasta in sauce labeled "Platycodon" (which, as it turns out, is a fibrous vegetable with a rather strong scent), something which looked for all the world like Klingon gaghwith garlic labeled "Fern Bracken", and something which we chose to believe was chicken.
Nobody wanted to share our picnic dinner***, but we had a wonderful time and a fascinating culinary adventure. And, as it turns out, had soda Weirdness thrust upon us.

The Kibbitzer had grabbed two bottles: a carbonated rice wine and a drinkable vinegar. I'm not up for wine tonight, so let's try the vinegar.

The setting is quaint and picturesque, reminiscent of midwestern Americana. Note the watering can, wood siding, and homely brick. And the Korean drinkable vinegar, of course.

The label does bear a helpful English translation underneath the (rather dramatic) Korean writing. The picture suggests that it contains honey, a supposition which is borne out by a quick look at the ingredients list. Apparently, it contains honey black vinegar, fructose, apple juice, glucose, dextrose, and...er...silicon resin. Acids, sugars, and semiconductors...that's a Weird beverage for sure.

Where and when: purchased sometime in 2011 at Freshia, which might have been in Torrance, CA.
Color: Brown and translucent, about the color of the malt vinegar you find at fried fish places. Pours as if it were more viscous than wanter, seems a bit thick.

Scent: The main scent is sweet, but with a lot of earthiness and a strong vinegar. Can something smell like body odor, but in a good way?

Taste: HoowwwAAAAA...*sputter*...holy crud.
It's massively, overwhelmingly sweet, almost like sipping straight honey. Thicker than it looks, too, like a thin glue. How much sugar is *in* this stuff?

Ah, that explains it. This has 17.86 grams of sugar per fluid ounce.
Compare that to Coke Classic, which has 3.25 grams of sugar per fluid ounce. This stuff is roughly 5 and a half times more concentrated sugar than Coke. By my calculation, assuming the sugar is glucose, this is about a 3.3M sugar solution, which is pretty impressive in a beverage.

The massive, brain-melting sweetness is nicely offset by a remarkable spike of appleish vinegar through the frontal lobe. The two are actually in excellent balance, and the resultant flavor is quite pleasant--just completely overwhelming. I'd be afraid to put this in a hummingbird feeder, lest they all develop instant diabetes.

Nazgul: *sips, shrugs, nods* "Mmmm. I don't know why you don't like sweet stuff."

This from the boy who would happily eat straight cake frosting. I love sweet stuff. This is to conventional sweet stuff as Mighty Cthulhu is to a plate of fried calamari.

Olorin: "Eeeeewwww. That's disgusting."

K-i-C: "Smells like apple cider vinegar with honey." *sips* "Lots and lots and lots of honey. But it's actually very nice. You need that sweet to balance out the acidity."

So we have a quandary. The taste is quite pleasant, complex, and very well balanced, just about ten gazillion times too strong. I wonder if some of the untranslated Korean text on the label reads "Warning: For the love of God and insulin, do not drink this stuff undiluted."

Quaff rating: 3.5. The taste is lovely, and it's certainly interesting.
Cough rating: 1.5. I might have done a spit-take, except given the viscosity, it would have come out more like a loogie than a fine spray.

* Doing so can--given a good tailwind--push you above the speed limit**.
** In school zones.
*** Or sit within fifteen feet

Irn Bru

2012-01-14T23:28:00.000-08:00

"He should try Irn Bru!"
"We need to get this guy some Irn Bru."
"It is only by the intervention of Irn Bru that you can be saved."

Since I began this blog, I have heard of many legendary sodas. Rumor has reached my ears of beverages for the quaffing in Japan in flavors too bizarre to mention. Some of my readers have spoken of elusive and unspeakable drinks whose names and flavors will not suffer their names to be spoken. Among these, one has been mentioned more than once; I have been told to seek out Irn Bru.

The very name festers with numinous wonderment. Is it an acronym? A fragment of an incantation in Hyperborean, to be chanted in certain disquieting stone circles on nameless hilltops? Does it imply that it is a beverage brewed in funerary ash containers? Is it the preferred beverage of Ernie, companion to the longsuffering Bert?

Oddly, among those who have recommended it, its characteristics are not entirely consistent. There are those who say it originates in Scotland; others place it elsewhere in the British Isles, while there are whispers which say it owns hypothetical and rumored Leng or Lomar as its home.This made it hard for me to find.

And yet it came to pass that I found myself (along with the Lab staff) on Massachusetts Avenue in Lawrence, Kansas. I was born and raised in Topeka, and the Lab was making a New Year's journey to my ancestral homelands. This was not a soda pilgrimage, but a Quaffmaster must be ever-vigilant; the six-foot cardboard Dalek in the storefront window suggested the possibility of Weirdness inside.

While the rest of the Lab staff was distracted by the chocolates and DVDs of "Lark Rise to Candleford", I was drawn to the refrigerated cabinets near the back, in which there was indeed British Weirdness to be found. Poking through the offerings, I selected a few likely candidates (which I will review soon), but then I spotted it: Irn Bru. Right there in front of me.

There it stands. Proud. Unafraid. Orange.

It's at times like this that I hear voices in my head. Some hear angels, or the voices of beloved relatives, guiding them to wise actions and noble needs.
I alternate between Ming the Merciless and the Wicked Witch of the West.
"SEIZE IT, YOU FOOL!" shrieked the voice in my mind. So, naturally, I did. I seized it with vigor.

The bottle of Irn Bru was carefully carried back to Topeka , lovingly packed into a suitcase nestled in warm woolen socks, armored above and below with nice thick role-playing-game rulebooks, and borne westward on Amtrak to the Lab. And now I can, with trembling anticipation and unholy glee, open it and experience the eldritch bubbliness of the far-famed, stong-greaved Irn Bru.

Where and when: Purchased at Brits (929 Massachusetts Ave., Lawrence, KS) in January 2012.
Color: Oddly orange, with an ever-so-slight pink tinge. Sort of a dark melon color.
Scent:Strong bubblegum, weak berry, very weak citrus. I need to figure out what it is which gives some of these sodas that powerful cotton-candy/bubblegum flavor.
K-i-C: "Smells like Bazooka." I'm assuming she means the bubblegum; if not, there are aspects to my dear wife which I had not suspected.
Taste:The bubblegum is there, and strong, but not utterly overwhelming. There is a fairly potent orange-ish taste under it--but not an orange soda flavor like you find in Crush or Fanta. It's...as if there was just a bit of peel included. Just that hint of bitter.
That bitter citrus is stronger in the aftertaste, which is intense but short-lived, fading rapidly a few seconds after it appears. It's ever so slightly reminiscent of Abbondio Chinotto, but only in the aftertaste, and not nearly so strong. This is mostly a moderately sweet, somewhat biting orange-ish soda; it's just got an interesting hint of something more. Sort of like being married to someone for fifteen years, thinking you understand them well, and then they let slip something about the smell of bazookas, and it makes you wonder...

K-i-C: *shudder, pause...* "Tastes like really pointy bubblegum...very sharply carbonated, that hurt...I feel like I should be chewing."

The tangy-bitter citrus aftertaste is still persisting, inobtrusively. It *is* very sharply carbonated.

Well, it's interesting stuff, and reasonably good...but to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what all the fuss is about. Really, I need some sort of ritual for disposing of sodas which do not live up to their rumored stature. I think it was Ming the Merciless who said it best:
"I call upon the great god Dy-Zan, and for his greater glory...and our mutual pleasure...I destroy it utterly."
Could there be any greater ritual incantation for such an occasion? I think not.

Quaff rating: 2.5. Pleasant but uninteresting.
Cough rating: 1.0. That aftertaste is STILL there.

UPDATE: Just after writing this review, Nazgul came out from his sleeping compartment. He said he felt a bit hungry. After consuming a glass of milk, one and a half slices of vegetarian baloney, a banana, a handful of almonds, a piece of colby jack cheese, and some tossed green salad, we had a little talk about proper nutrition during waking hours (apparently, sunlight makes him allergic to anything other than yogurt and Cheez-Its). In the course of this discussion, we discovered the hidden truth behind Irn Bru's name. To my astonishment, this truth also explains why we found it in Kansas.
This is the only soda I've had which supplies an appreciable amount (5%/8 oz.) of the RDA for iron. It contains ferric ammonium citrate.

Hence the name, a corruption of "Iron Brew", I suppose (although I don't remember Ironbeer having the same qualities). As to it being found in Kansas: if you imagine a Kansan saying "Iron Brew", you can imagine it coming out sounding more like "Aaaahhhhrrrrn Breeeuuuuwww". A literal transcription might render it "Ir'n Bru".

Nazgul: "Do I need to brush my teeth again?"

Happy holidays!

2012-01-02T16:51:00.000-08:00

This one isn't a review (although I will have some holiday-themed beverages coming soon). I wanted to make this a warm-hearted holiday post.

This holiday season (whichever winter-solstice-adjacent holiday you may observe, if any) has been a season for family. We at the Lab have made a journey to my ancestral home in Topeka, Kansas to visit my ancestors (amongst whom I include the illustrious Rotalmomska and Rotalpopska). I have a brother as well, who does not yet have an alias in the Lab, but whom the Kibbitzer thinks should be "Rotalbroska". We'll see.

This gathering has, to date, produced several things of note:
1) Warmth and togetherness
2) A highly vocal game of Mexican Train Dominoes, which involved a variety of new and creative interpretations of the written rules
2) The realization that--according to Google--the phrase "eldritch hootenanny" has never been published on the entire World Wide Web.

Thus, let me offer the following holiday sentiment:

May you and yours have a marvelous holiday eldritch hootenanny!

(Update: Nazgul would like to add this: "ELDRITCH HOOTENANNY! IA!")
Sincerely, the Quaffmaster, Kibbitzer-in-Chief, Nazgul, and Olorin.

Diet Dr. Pepper Vinaigrette

2011-11-26T23:23:00.000-08:00

Here at the Lab, we* are sometimes seized by moments of what one might call psychotic inspiration. Tonight, an attack of such sodatori has led to what might be a discovery**.

I had just retrieved my emergency Diet Dr. Pepper from cold storage, and was headed down the corridor from the kitchen module to the media viewing module, when I passed the Kibbitzer-in-Chief comparing some sort of dark bottle with Neighsayer. This didn't strike me as particularly unusual, but then I happened to take a swig from my bottle while smelling what was in theirs.

I stopped dead in my tracks. As the volatile vapors of the Diet Dr. Pepper wafted through my nasal cavity, they joined with the heady aromas from the dark, mysterious bottle wielded by the Kibbitzer, launching a joint assault on my olfactory epithelium. Nerve signals were ricocheting around my brain, forming new connections and unearthing new possibilities.

"Where," I whispered, "did you put that balsamic vinegar?"

Perhaps it was the light of incipient discovery burning in my eyes. The K-i-C and Neighsayer simply indicated the cabinet in which they had sequestered the vinegar. I opened the cabinet, my mind a-bubble with inner visions.
Diet Dr. Pepper would go great with balsamic vinegar!

Truly, I can understand hearing a statement like that with some skepticism. If I hadn't had the combined smell experience, I wouldn't have thought of it. But what has been smelled...cannot be unsmelled. And now I had to know.

I poured about a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar into a cup, and filled it the rest of the way with Diet Dr. Pepper. There was a bit more foam than usual, but in the course of pursuing such a thing as a discovery, a Quaffmaster knows no fear. I took a sip.
I took another.
It wasn't wonderful...but it wasn't bad at all. And the longer it sat in my mouth, the more interesting it became. This had potential. This needed exploring.

"Okay, kids!" I shouted. "Who wants to try something new?"

Nazgul and Olorin, knowing who I am, were understandably somewhat reluctant to simply drink from a fizzing cup I offered, especially given that I wouldn't tell them what was in it (out of a desire for scientific rigor). However, they both agreed that it was actually pretty good. Even after I told them what it was.
The K-i-C and Neighsayer admitted (reluctantly) that it wasn't bad, and decided that I had effectively made a Dr. Pepper vinaigrette dressing. The Kibbitzer suggested that it might go well on sprouts, while Neighsayer demurred, but did feel that it would be better with regular Dr. Pepper.

As far as I'm concerned, these are questions of refinement. My job is simply to unearth the new--to expand the frontiers of Weirdness whenever possible. So let it be known that Diet Dr. Pepper and balsamic vinegar can combine into something new and unexpected and Weird.

The rest, I leave to you***.

*The rest of the Lab staff, out of concern for their reputations, insist that I clarify that here, by "we", I actually mean "I".

**The more usual result is either a trip to Urgent Care or a night spent on the couch.

***And here, by "you", I mean "you, the hypothetical person willing to try bizarre beverage combinations you read about on a blog written by a Lovecraft/soda/sci-fi geek."

Fujiya Sparkling Peach Nectar

2011-11-26T14:32:00.000-08:00

Actually, based on the container, this should be "Nectar Sparkling Peach", but such pedantry shouldn't be applied to all containers, or we'd end up with some Weird everything.

Anyway, after a short break, the Lab is again diving into the world of Weird soda. We've still got plenty of stuff in storage, and I'm looking forward to bringing these beverages bubbling into the bleak gaze of a blistering, baleful (but hopefully never banal) daylight of full taste awareness.
God help us all.

I've also decided that we need to refocus our mission. While it's true that there are nearly infinite varieties of (for example) root beer, the fact that it's not A&W doesn't actually make it Weird. Thus, we're going to try to limit ourselves to things with at least some aspect of real strangeness. Except, maybe, on special occasions.

Today, we have a moderately unusual beverage to sample: Fujiya Sparkling Peach Nectar.

I suppose the juice pitcher and glasses in the background could be said to speak to the fruit-nature of the product. Or to my lack of ability to compose a photograph.

I'm particularly fond of Japanese Weird beverages, for several reasons:
1) They often have REALLY bizarre flavors, and
2) They often come in that charmingly shaped semi-conical metal can.

Peach isn't that Weird, although it's certainly not the most commonly encountered flavor on domestic soda shelves. Fresca makes a nice peach soda, although it's not a pure peach, more of a peach/citrus. I'm not sure which this is yet.

I can read Hiragana a tiny bit--enough to pronounce it badly. However, I don't have a hope of reading Kanji, so I really have no idea wht most of this bottle says. At the bottom of the front, it indicates that it is 15% something (or 15% of something, or is 15% of the way to becoming something, or possibly that it represents 15% of some Platonic ideal of something. Or maybe it's an unrelated comment about 15% of something else. "Fujiya Sparkling Peach Soda--15% of 45 is 6.75!")

It does, apparently, contain actual peach juice. That's probably good.

Where and when: Probably from Mitsuwa, probably sometime in the spring.
Color: Erk. Disturbingly cloudy, kind of a beige color. Not very transparent. Disturbing and unpleasant; reminiscent of things which come out of the body, rather than things which should go in. Tiny bits of floaty stuff. The foam is a bit persistent, as one sees sometimes when there's a bit of organic goo on the surface of a liquid.
Scent: This, on the other hand, is delightful. Smells like a ripe peach, or maybe a bit like canned peaches. A good smell in any case. Not cloying, has the actual depth of real peach.
K-i-C: "Smeels nice. Genuinely peachy."
Taste: Fortunately, the taste is much closer to the scent than to the appearance. Tastes a bit like the syrup from canned peaches, but carbonated to a pleasant degree.
K-i-C: "Kind of like peach beer."
Interesting. There's little of the beery bitterness, but the complex organic taste of the peach does give rise to that sense.

It's one of the most honest fruit sodas I think I've had--actual peach, rather than synthetic. Good, as long as you keep your eyes closed.

Between this and Gokuri's Miracle of Grapefruit, I'm developing some real esteem for Asian fruit sodas.

There is a bit of filmy aftertaste--probably the same actual fruit content as made the foam a bit disturbing.

Quaff rating: 4.0. Excellent taste. Very drinkable.
Cough rating: 1.0. Between the appearance and slight gooiness, a bit aversive.

Now on Google Plus!

2011-11-21T17:57:00.001-08:00

You can find us on Google Plus now!

Go here: WSR on Google+ and add us to your circles. We'll be watching!

Virgil's Zero Cream Soda

2011-10-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

One of the perils of being a professional consumer of concentrated sugar solutions is the resultant weight gain. Soda has a lot of calories, and as I have explained to my physiology students, your body is a magnificent engine of nanotechnological transformation. You have biochemical mechanisms evolved, via millions and millions of years of life-and-death struggle, to be able to store excess food energy (should you be lucky enough to get any) for future use. It matters little whether that excess energy comes in the form of carbohydrates, proteins, or lipids--your breathtakingly awesome biochemistry can convert extras into a dense energy storage form like triglycerides.
And then pack them into a nice toroidal shape around my midsection, which causes my pants to fall off.

Our modern society (at least for those of us with the incredible good fortune to live in a society with access to nice resources and reasonably stable government) makes food energy available in quantities which our ancient ancestors couldn't even imagine. However, our biochemistry is still adapted to an environment where access to extra calories meant we could store up enough fat to survive winters, famnines, and unsuccessful hunts. As a consequence, our bodies assure us that eating three Ultimate Cheeseburgers is, in fact, an excellent survival strategy, and we should hurry up and do it before someone else gets them!

We are now faced with a dilemma which undoubtedly makes those ancient ancestors more than a little confused--how can we make tasty food which we like to eat, yet has no food energy value at all?

This long path has led me to today's review: Virgil's Zero Cream Soda, which is sweetened with Stevia.

The power drill is there because somehow, drinking a diet soda makes me feel the need to reaffirm my manliness. Which, of course, relies on power tools.

Virgil's regular cream soda is one of the best sodas I've ever had, a magnificent achievement of balance and subtlety. I've also developed a soft spot for stevia as a sweetener--it does have an odd aftertaste, but with the right stuff to balance it out, it can be good.
I've also learned that powdered stevia is much, much sweeter than sugar, in a lesson which involved me trying to make some mildly sweet peppermint tea and ended up with a concentrated liquid York peppermint pattie.
In any case, I am very curious to find out if the good folks who make Virgil's can manage to make something with stevia which doesn't besmirch their reputation.

Where and when: Donated to the Lab by Cilious, September 2011.
Color: Darkish amber, transparent. Kind of pretty.
Scent: Interesting. A strong vanilla scent, more in the sweet vanilla than bourbon vanilla style. Interesting undertones of caramel and, oddly, something that makes me think of sandalwood. There's a faint aftersmell which is reminiscent of the slight bitterness of stevia, but it's very, very faint. The caramel is much stronger.
Nazgul: "Cream. Vanilla creamy."
K-i-C: "Smells like vanilla bubble gum."
Taste: Oddly, the vanilla is much weaker in the taste than the smell. The initial taste is sharper than I expected, but still pleasant--not biting. There is vanilla, and that interesting caramel flavor.
Unfortunately, the stevia is strong with this one. It rides just under those tastes, and like the crest of a wave breaking through the smooth swell, bursts out a few seconds into the mouth. It carries with it the nice parts of stevia (sweet, just the teensiest bit tangy) and the less lovely parts (a fairly powerful bitter/acrid). That makes it sound worse than it is--it's really not unpleasant, quite the opposite. However, I can't ignore the stevia here, like I have been able to do with the less-sophisticated but still good Zevia sodas.

Nazgul: "Hmm! That's good. But strong. But strong in a good way."

It's nice, but it doesn't rise to the same level as its cane sugar cousin.
It's smooth, pleasant, and has an interesting blend of flavors. Taking it on its own, without comparison to regular Virgil's, it would be a good cream soda of the sweet/French vanilla variety, with an odd and slightly unpleasant herbal aftertaste.

On the other hand, it's worlds better than Diet Coke. As diet sodas go, one of the best I've had. Our ancient ancestors would undoubtedly have rejoiced to have it, until they realized it could do them no good and decided instead to burn it as an offering to Crom.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Pleasant vanilla and caramel flavors.
Cough rating: 1.0. Unpleasant stevia aftertaste.

WSR's contribution to understanding human nature and the Internet

2011-09-29T21:23:00.000-07:00

Writing this blog has been a wonderful adventure for me, and (hopefully) for the rest of the Lab staff. We have discovered new heights and depths in the Weird soda world, and made contact with a variety of interesting people.

I will also admit that another interesting aspect has been poring over the web statistics which keep track of our visitors. I like getting to see where our readers are visiting from around the world, and what sorts of things bring them here.

It was in such a contemplation that I made this great discovery: people mostly come to our site because they are interested in sex.

"But, Quaffmaster..." you may cry out, "...your site contains very little sex! Believe me, I've looked, and nary a titillating phrase nor suggestive image have I found!"

It's true, the Lab has avoided putting any significant amount of racy content in this chronicle of our explorations. And still, I maintain that people come to our site for sex.

How do I know this? 20% of recent visits to the site came from one of these four Google searches:

neurogasm
neurogasm review
what does neurogasm do to you
does neurogasm work?

On the list of "Entry Pages", the review of neurogasm has had 27 hits. The next most common entry page is Visvita Aloe Vera juice...with four.

The Neurogasm review is nearly five times as popular as the main page of the blog, in terms of total visits.

Somehow, I doubt it's because the review has gained renown as a magnificent example of the fine art of beverage analysis.

Guest Review: Country Club Merengue Soda

2011-09-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

One of our non-hypothetical readers (The Doc, who previously reviewed Inca Cola for us) has submitted a guest review of what sounds like a fascinating offering popular in the Dominican Republic. He seems quite taken with it, although not without any reservations. In addition, he has included input from The Doc Sr. and his wife (who we will refer to, in as confusing a mishmash of articles, honorifics, and suffixes* as possible) as "Mrs. The Doc Sr."

I'm especially fond of his reference to this as a "beverage d'hubris". Thanks so much for the guest review, The Doc!

--BEGIN GUEST REVIEW--

Living as I do near a golf course, I find it highly appropriate to drink
Country Club soda as it neatly befits my pretentious lifestyle, because I
really am that great. And it befits it further because this flavour of
Country Club soda, at least, is as pretentious as I am. Not merely content
to call itself a cream soda as significantly more humble beverage brands
would do, it calls itself a MERENGUE soda. Because, at its home in the
Dominican Republic, as the natural beverage of the country (pretentious),
it would not do to simply be a cream soda and roll about in the carbonated
muck with those other inferior, hoi-polloi, beverages.

The history is a little weird, which works as well. Apocryphally there was
a Country Club Soda Company during the first half or so of the 20th century
primarily in Massachusetts (pretentious also). Around 1985 Seven-Up bought
them out and the brand faded in America. However, Country Club is sold by the
cartload in the Dominican Republic and pretty much anywhere they live,
including many specialty shops (pretentious encore) in the USA. The Country
Club you will get the USA comes in the classic (pretentious times infinity)
glass bottle that you need a bottle opener for (I'm too pretentious for
this shirt), but is sold in regular plastic bottles in its home country (not
pretentious) and now is a mark of the Coca-Cola Company (extreme megaloss of
pretentiousitosity).

Where and when: I've been enjoying this beverage d'hubris for a good two
months now, but I requested additional snooty opinions earlier this month
and brought samples to The Doc, Sr., and The Doc, Sr.'s Wife. The bottles in
question were purchased from BevMo (pretentiousness under review).

Color: A rich, golden amber draught, in a bottle that looks like it travelled
forward in time from 1955 with Marty McFly and a DeLorean, if he were
actually Marco McFeli and the DeLorean was really a Chevrolet truck with a
ridiculous big rusted chrome bumper and solid axles.

Smell: Fruity, but not strong, and I really don't have a joke about
pretentiousness to go with that except if this were the national beverage
of West Hollywood.

Taste: There is a common thread with Caribbean/meso-American beverages that
they want them to have a bit of a kick. Despite the pretension, it's a rough
merengue and it's strong. However, there's only a minimal amount of aftertaste
and the cream flavour is really rich with a superb vanilla base layered on
top with a selection of mild and delightfully intermingling fruit notes.
It is, truly, like eating a merengue pie, except this enables you to belch
in a much more satisfying manner afterwards (whereupon I was given a
disapproving look from The Doc Sr's Wife). Doc Sr. agreed that it was a very
nice cream soda and rated it favourably compared to more mass market brands.
Doc Sr.'s Wife had a few sips and said it was nice, and also that I should say
excuse me after I burp. This is high praise.

Quaff rating: 4.5. Dad's is probably the smoothest cream soda I can think of
(particularly the Red Cream Soda), and this is not nearly that smooth. That
said, it is much more luxurious and complex-flavoured than Dad's, let alone
many other simplistic and, yes, less-pretentious beverages. This beverage has
its beautiful Dominican nose in the air from the beginning, and yet, it really
does deserve the name "merengue."

Cough rating: Let's say 1.5. The kickback is there, but not nearly enough to
merit a full two. However, don't belch in front of your mother like I did.
Coughing may be more polite in the long run. Not to mention pretentious.

I wonder if the other flavours are this egotistical.

--END GUEST REVIEW--

*Shouldn't the plural of "suffix" be "suffices"? More than one matrix or dominatrix are, respectively, "matrices" and "dominatrices"...maybe it's the "-trix" which pluralizes to "-trices"...

Timpo! Ultimate High-Grade Time Travel Fuel

2011-09-28T08:07:00.000-07:00

The Lab moved to north San Diego county in 2006. Prior to that, we lived in Los Angeles for ten years, while I was in graduate school. When we came here, and people asked where we were from, the conversation almost invariably went something like this:

Other Person: "Where did you live before this?"
Me: "We lived in Los Angeles for about ten years."
Other Person: "Oh, you must feel so happy to have escaped!"

There is a powerful assumption in this area that people would only live in LA under severe duress or as a hostage. Los Angeles is seen as some sort of alternate hell-dimension, 75 miles north, which any sane person would go to great lengths to avoid.

When I would respond with something along the lines of "Actually, we enjoyed it a lot", I could see the other person's amygdalae light up all the way down in the temporal lobe. I had become the Other, a slavering beast who must be watched carefully, lest my contagion be spread by bite or claw. In a few sympathetic cases, I think I was regarded as suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. So let me get this right out here:
I loved LA. I loved the incredible diversity of people and cultures. I loved the museums, symphonies, and operas. I loved the fact that you could hear five languages by walking five miles, and get any kind of food you could image by driving twenty minutes. Are there bad things about LA? Of course. Nobody likes traffic like that, the air isn't so hot, and inland it can get pretty miserable in the summer. No question, there are problems, but it's a wonderful place.

I like north county San Diego too! We can afford a house and yard here, and we can grow an enormous variety of fruits and vegetables all year round. When my relatives from Kansas visit, they are always jealous of the fact that "growing season" around here is effectively January to December. There's a lot of green space here, and most of the parking is free.

But we love LA too.

In fact, the other day the Lab staff took a trip up to the Echo Park area of LA, as Olorin was attending a writing workshop. And, as it turns out, this workshop was hosted by a rather remarkable organization called 826LA, who have taken the concept of Weirdness to new heights. For example, the workshop was hosted at their location...which is a market selling supplies for time travelers.

This is very promising for one such as I.

Seeing this, I reached the conclusion that Weirdness--maybe even in soda form--could be had within. Upon entering, I found that they sold a variety of useful items for the time traveller, such as Caveman Stationery (cement blocks), anti-evil-robot weaponry (magnets for erasing hard drives), and barbarian repellent (a spray listing ingredients such as "culture", "ballet", and "deodorant"). My Quaffmastery inclinations were thrilled to see a slurpee machine, but alas, it was out of order.

All was not lost, however. In a cooler at the back, I did find what I believe to be a Weird soda. At least, I think it's a soda. It's definitely Weird.

I handed over my money (I wonder if they would accept currency from other time periods?) and became the proud owner of a three-liter bottle of "Timpo! Ultimate High-Grade Time Travel Fuel".

Really, I have no choice but to buy this. None.

Now, you can probably see why I could not possibly pass this up. Here I had an opportunity to quaff a soda which might not even, technically speaking, exist at the time I was quaffing it, as it had not yet been invented! Such things do not happen every day. My geek mind gleefully dove into the array of possibilities as if it were a playground ball pit in which the balls were, in fact, round Cheetos. I had images of sharing a glass of Timpo! with Marty McFly under the sheltering arch of the Guardian of Forever.
On the other hand, there was nothing on this bottle which conformed that it was actually soda, or any other sort of drinkable liquid. It could be antifreeze, for all I knew. No ingredients list was provided; instead, there was a blurb which read:

Face it: Running out of time machine fuel is the worst. Not only does it make you late, but it also leaves you even more vulnerable to sudden dinosaur attacks.

The cap does say "Shasta", though, so I'm hpoing for the best. Or at least not to die.

Where and when: Purchased September 2011 at the Echo Park Time Travel Mart, 1714 Sunset Blvd., Echo Park, CA.
Color: Yellow-green, almost exactly the same shade as Mountain Dew. Scent: Very sweet, almost candy-ish. A bit like cotton candy. Almost no citrus or tang in the smell.
Taste: Very, very sweet. Like the smell, just a hint of candyish lime, but not sour at all. More like lime jelly candy. Almost no carbonation, just a hint of bubble bite.
The sweet is nearly overwhelming. Apparently, hummingbirds are time travelers.
Aftertaste is not especially pleasant--the sweet/lime is persistent, but a vaguely oily feeling creeps up from the back of the mouth about fifteen seconds in. It carries just a hint of something bitter. I'm not sure why, but I want to call the taste "nostalgic". Perhaps it's the temporal dislocation. The feeling is worse than the taste.

Honestly, I can't say that I'd recommend this as a soda. It's lacking in character and subtlety; there's nothing very distinctive about it. It's just a very sweet, vaguely lime-y, slightly carbonated liquid. On the other hand, it's time machine fuel, which increases its awesomeness factor as an object d'art. This is best enjoyed as a conversation piece; once it's opened and decanted, it loses what makes it special.

I do recommend a trip to the Time Travel Mart on its own merits. Plus, they do good writing tutoring.

Aftertaste update: a few minutes later, the oily feeling is still there, only now it tastes worse. Blech.

Quaff rating: 1.5. Not very pleasant.
Cough rating: 1.5. The aftertaste and texture is icky.
Special Weirdness bonus (not factored into the Index): 1.0. It's time machine fuel.

Chai Cola

2011-09-25T00:51:00.000-07:00

The arrival of autumn is a joyous time for me. As a young Quaffmaster, I lived in Topeka, Kansas. Now, for many people, the words "Topeka" and "Kansas" elicit mental imagery of Dorothy, tornadoes, and endlessly flat grasslands. I will admit that Kansas does contain more than its fair share of the latter two, although the beauty of the plains is underrated. However, for me, Kansas is associated with many other things, such as chicken-fried steak*. But that's just one of its many appealing aspects.

Another is weather.

Now, you may respond to that by saying "Quaffmaster, to mention tornadoes in one sentence and then to imply that Kansas has good weather seem somewhat inconsistent." I understand the objection, but please allow me to raise one point of contention: I did not say that Kansas has good weather. In fact, much of Kansas's weather is of the unpleasant or destructive variety. That being said, though, it is undeniable that Kansas does have weather. As opposed to some other locations, such as Southern California.

SoCal does get warmer and cooler, and it usually doesn't rain in the summer (although to a Kansan, the gentle drifting down of water droplets here wouldn't really qualify as "rain"). We here in semi-coastal SoCal are, indeed, blessed with a remarkably pleasant climate the vast majority of the time, ranging between "cool enough that I might wear a long-sleeved shirt" to "hot enough that I might, if pressed, perspire". It's one of the reasons that many people like to live here. It does have the drawback, though, that the turning of the seasons is something which you can fail to notice if you're not paying close attention.

The advent of autumn in Kansas produces a spectacular show of color as the trees shed that summer chlorophyll for the racier pigments underneath. One morning, you wake up, and the air has suddenly gained an unmistakable crispness. The sky turns a deeper shade of blue, somehow, and suddenly you bust out the sweaters and turtlenecks. At night, you're no longer lying on top of the bedsheets, with your naked body pressed against the screen window in a vain attempt to allow a breeze to strip the centimeter-thick layer of sweat from your skin; suddenly, it's time to put on the jammies and snuggle in a bed against that just-right bite in the evening air. It was always my favorite season, as a child. It still is, even though now it manifests for me as an almost imperceptibly lower angle of sunlight and more students pestering me in office hours.

Today's Weird Soda review is inspired by the coming of autumn.

I am a soda quaffer, and tea has never been a favorite of mine. I like my drinks cold and bubbly, not hot and tasting of bark. However, an event which occurred a few months ago may have opened up a new path in my beverage worldtrack. My wife and I were out on a date, and we stopped at a tea shop. While there, she obtained a cup of some sort of steaming concoction which smelled...well, fascinating.
I had a sip.
Spices...cinnamon...cream...and pepper...
"What is this divine mixture?" I asked.
"Chai," she said.
"More," I said.

The taste of this stuff was the brick hearth in front of the fireplace on a cool autumn day in Topeka. The blue sky, the brilliant trees, the heat and sweater; it was all there. She assures me that this Chai was not like all other Chai, that most chai is simply spiced and tasty. This was chai of times past, chai of idyllic days when chai could only be found at Indian restaurants and certain coffee shops run by the Illumina-tea, and obtainable only by the exchange of coded passphrases, obscure hand gestures, and making certain unmentionable and disquieting sacrifices in mountaintop stone rings shunned by wholesome folk above witch-haunted Pomona.
Or something like that; it might be that she said "This isn't the usual chai," and the rest came from my just having read a bunch of Lovecraft at 3 am after eating cold pizza.

So now I like my drinks cold, bubbly, and sweet...unless they're chai.
So what do I do in this case? Tonight, we're trying something called Chai Cola, by Taylor's Tonics. I'm going to assume it's not hot and peppery, but I'm truly not sure what else to expect.

Chai Cola is pictured here next to my favorite tea-drinking mug. It seemed appropriate.

Pictured here is my favorite tea-drinking mug with my second-favorite tea-drinking mug (which I picked up in South Miami Beach). They go rather well together, don't you think?

Where and when: I think I picked this one up at a BevMo.
Color: Slightly lighter than I expected, with a foamy head more commonly seen on root beer. Definitely in the dark brown family, but without the unplumbed dark red depths.
Scent: Hmm. The spices are more reminiscent of cola than anything else, but there is a faint bit of something slightly more acrid. Imagine some cola with a fair bit of cinnamon and cumin, sprinkled lightly over a campfire.
K-i-C: "Smells vaguely like chai...like chai root beer."
Taste: Huh. It's actually pretty nice--tastes of caramel, cinnamon, maybe wintergreen, a bit of coriander, and cola under it all.
K-i-C: "Tastes vaguely like chai...like chai that somebody poured some Pepsi into. Tastes like Chai when you breathe out, on the roof of your mouth."

Yep. Interestingly, this one's taste has a distinct physical location in my mouth: the roof, right at the back of the hard palate. About 40 seconds after drinking, there's a distinct peppery burning at that spot, which I have never experienced with a soda before.

It's pretty nice. The cola and caramel-spice-pepper-coriander of the chai go well together, and are well balanced. We get a nice, cool brew with pleasant, heady vapors. Unfortunately, it doesn't quite manage the fireside on a perfect autumn evening. Actually, with the temperature, volatility, and spiciness, it has an almost noir-ish feeling. I feel as though I should be wearing a trenchcoat.
But it's a good kind of noir. This one will probably end with me getting paid, rather than bleeding to death in the gutter, watching the beautiful autumn leaves swirl by.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Unusually nice! Especially noteworthy for good balance.
Cough rating: 0.5. A slight burning sensation.

*It should be noted that, among the many reasons on which my decision to marry the lovely and eloquent Kibbitzer-in-Chief was based, not least was the fact that she can make a darned fine chicken-fried steak.

Coco Fizz Chocolate Soda

2011-09-05T16:29:00.000-07:00

Happy Labor Day, everybody!

The Lab isn't doing any of the traditional barbecue-related Labor Day festivities, partially due to the highly anomalous rain north San Diego county has experienced today*. I suppose that Labor Day would be more appropriately observed with...well...labor. And, of course, here at the Lab, we have one real labor; the consumption of sugary beverages!

So in honor of America's laborers, past and present, we'll open up a bottle of Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory's Coco Fizz Chocolate Soda.

The screw is also in honor of Labor Day, recognizing the labor conditions many workers experienced historically.

We haven't tried a lot of chocolate sodas at the Lab. Chocolate has a long history as a soda flavor, and only recently does it seem to have fallen under the umbrella of Weirdness. My understanding is that during the age of the soda fountain, chocolate would not have been at all an unusual ingredient to add to a soda mix; no eyebrows would be raised, neither would parenting be questioned. Why, then, has the concept of a chocolate soda become something which strikes the average soda consumer as being Weird?

I am guessing that the domination of the market by bottled (and then canned) colas and lemon-lime sodas is responsible. After all, in a day when a fruit-flavored soda preference marks one as a nonconformist (I'll bet Ron Paul drinks Welch's grape soda!), what hope does something like a chocolate soda have?

Yet even now, one can obtain carbonated chocolate, as we have. Let us honor the history and tireless work of the soda jerks of yore by quaffing this example of chocolateyness.

And who do we have to thank for this?
Well, the label says "Rocky Mountain Chocolate Company"...except where it says "Durango Soda company"...whose address is "zuberfizz.com". I suppose this is by the same folks who make Zuberfizz Key Lime soda.

Where and when: The K-i-C got this at Cost Plus World Market a few months ago. Let's say June.
Color: An odd light brown. Roughly the color of apple juice. Not what I would associate with chocolate. I'm experiencing some cognitive dissonance. Not quite completely transparent; there's a hint of cloudiness.
Scent: Powerfully chocolate. The scent is quite strong, becoming inescapable from the moment the bottle is opened. Entropy has forever permeated the Lab with the scent of chocolate.
I suspect the K-i-C will not be pleased.
Olorin: "Whoa. Pure chocolate." *pause* "No, it's a tootsie roll. No other smells mixing in, just pure Tootsie Roll."
He's right. That's a more accurate description of the smell.
Nazgul: "Yeah. Tootsie Roll."
Taste: Very sweet. The chocolate is the only significant taste at first, and Olorin is correct: it's not regular chocolate, it's Tootsie Roll chocolate. Unusual for the purity of the flavor. This hits like a ten-foot Tootsie Roll falling off a logging truck.
About ten seconds in, there's an interesting bit of pleasant bitterness around the edges. This makes it momentarily a bit more like chocolate syrup.

Nazgul: "Tastes like it smells."
Olorin: "Tootsie roll with BUBBLES! Holy cow. It's a Tootsie roll infused with bubble. It's a potent beverage."
Nazgul :"Mmmmmmmm..."

Apparently, Nazgul likes it, while Olorin isn't quite so sure. As for me, it wouldn't be my first choice. I like Tootsie rolls and chocolate syrup as much as anyone, but they don't really work well for me as a soda flavor.
That said, if I were going to seek out a chocolate soda, it might well be this one. It's fairly crisp, and the flavor is saturated and pleasant.

I'm not even going to offer this one to the Kibbitzer, as she is one of those rare people who honestly don't like chocolate. A Weird Weird Soda Reviewer, if you will (hat tip to The Crossed Pond for the title).

Quaff rating: 2.5. Pleasant enough, but not something I'd seek out.
Cough rating: 0.5. VERY strong.

UPDATE: After posting the review, I took a much bigger swig. The taste was surprisingly different...much more of the bitterness, so a bit more like actual chocolate. liked it better that way, so if you're taking bigger mouthfuls, up the Quaff rating to 3.0.

Americana Vintage Soda Root Beer

2011-09-03T17:36:00.000-07:00

As Labor Day approaches, a Quaffmaster's mind turns to thoughts of American history. Or, possibly, childbirth; I imagine that mothers of children born on Labor Day view the irony with gaiety and laughter*. But in this case, I have chosen to celebrate the approaching festival with a review of a soda which, by its label, calls to mind nostalgic visions of my nation.

The drawer pulls are supposed to be reminiscent of old-style buttons on a smart waistcoat, suitable for a gentleman of leisure.

Americana Vintage Soda Root Beer has an American flag high on the label. The "Vintage" designation is undoubtedly designed to call to mind idyllic afternoons, in which one would ride down to Mr. Friendly's corner market with one's pack of lovable rapscallions to trade in nickels and dimes for a glass of genuine root beer and a bag of licorice whips, to be consumed whilst sitting by the local creek and listening to that new rock-'n-roll music which would mildly scandalize one's parents.

One wonders what sort of nostalgic reminiscences of Earth-That-Was a ten-year-old today will have of his or her youth when said ten-year-old is eighty and living in a retirement pod on one of the Inner Worlds**.

In any case, this bottle firmly fixes the chronological target of the intended reminiscence by pointing out, on the side of its label, that it is bottled (by Orca***) in a 50's style bottling plant. I'm not completely clear on what that means, except that I suspect there are matronly ladies, rulers held at the ready, roaming the conveyor belts, alert for impropriety and necking in the dim corners of the factory floor.

We've tried two others from Orca's Americana line, the Black Cherry (which was justifiably recommended to us, and reviewed at the Madonna Inn) and their Honey Lime Ginger Ale. Both were tasty.

Where and when: I'm dealing with a backlog of Weird acquisitions, so I'm not honestly sure where this came from. Or when. However, the K-i-C won't let me get any more until I deal with some of this.
Color: Dark brown, ever-so-slightly more yellow than the deep red of some root beers. Decent head at first pour.
Scent: Fascinating. A sweet smell, which first strikes me as a bit citrusy, with cream and spice, but I have some trouble nailing it down...and then I get it. Cinnamon toast. It smells like cinnamon toast! Or maybe cinnamon rolls. This is a good thing. It's quite clear and smooth, strongly spicy/cinnamon, cream-ish, sharp. Not much of the more herbal/bitter you get on some other root beers, not a lot of gentian or coriander.
K-i-C: "Smells oddly like Sweet tarts. It's got this chalkiness, tablet-y. Like licorice Sweet Tarts." She's not as fond of it as I am.
Me: "I thought it smelled like cinnamon rolls."
K-i-C: *doubtful* "It smells like something you're supposed to chew."

You chew cinnamon rolls! I am declaring victory.

Taste:Very sweet, quite smooth. The traditional root beer flavor is there, with the aforementioned cinnamon strong among them. Notably smooth; almost disturbingly so. Hints of tart linger at the edges, but not nearly as strong as a Sweet Tart. Licorice is also present. Vanilla is another very strong component.
Actually, the vanilla and cinnamon are almost too strong; it's on the far sweet/sharp border of what I would even call root beer. That's not to say it's bad; I actually like the taste quite a bit.
Let's get some other opinions. I summon the rest of the staff.

Me: "Hey, guys. Come taste this Weird soda."
Nazgul: "What is it?"
Me: "I'd like you to taste it without knowing."
Nazgul: *suddenly trudging, rather than running, to the Lab* "Oh, <i>no</i>..."

Olorin: "Hmm. Chocolatey cola root beer. Like a mix between chocolate, cola, and root beer. I like it."
I see what he means about the chocolate.
Nazgul: "It's good. Has Mama tried it?"
Me: "No, she didn't like the smell."

So this one gets approval from me, Olorin, and Nazgul, but fails to win over the Kibbitzer. This isn't all that unusual; the K-i-C fills the (scientifically critical) role of Lab skeptic on soda matters.

As far as I'm concerned, this is a worthy contribution, if barely root beer. A very interesting, pleasant taste and texture.

Quaff rating: 4.0. Could be more complex, but lovely in its simplicity.
Cough rating: 0.5. Maybe just a bit too sweet. Not completely a root beer.

* In the years after childbirth, anyway.
** "Hey, you browncoats! Git off mah lawngrid!"
*** I presume the company, rather than in the sense of "made by killer whales".

Judge Wapner's Root Beer

2011-08-26T17:52:00.000-07:00

The Weird Soda Review Lab is dedicated to exploring soda Weirdness in all its aspects. Most of the time, we end up quaffing sodas (or similar beverages) whose Weirdness is most manifest in their flavor or texture. It is useful to be reminded now and then that soda Weirdness can have other aspects. A soda could have an unusual scent, for example. A soda might even have Weird history.

Or, in this case, just a really Weird name.

When I saw Judge Wapner's Root Beer, I really had no choice but to take it home. Root beer is hardly, in and of itself, Weird; it's nearly ubiquitous. And while there are many varieties, possessing varying degrees of intrigue and deliciousness (Boot Rear is one of the best I've had, but I can't find any to review!), the simple fact that it is root beer doesn't even raise an eyebrow.

The fact that its label contains the name and picture of a figure from a popular court-TV show from the early 1980's, does qualify as Weird.

I'm not sure what complaint was just decided against Indy, Boba Fett, Batman, a stormtrooper, an unnamed Jedi in aqua sweatpants, and an alien, but it must have been a doozy.

I didn't watch the show, but I do clearly remember several things about it. I remember Judge Wapner saying "I know you've been sworn, and I have read your complaint...". I thought I remembered the theme song, but whenever I try to get it going through my head, it invariably becomes the theme song to either Hawaii Five-O or The Prisoner*. Just the other day, it was revealed to me that the court in The People's Court was not in fact a courtroom, but rather what amounted to binding arbitration**. Why Judge Wapner is now showing up on my root beer is somewhat of a mystery, although the fact that he is depicted saying "I sentence you to drink my root beer!" may not bode well for the upcoming experience.

This is from the "Real Soda in Real Bottles" company, who produce a whole variety of Weird products. Their web site is something to behold. It mentions that they have an outlet store, too...

I feel a pilgrimage coming on.

But back to this one. It's cane-sugar-sweetened, with no other ingredients of note mentioned. Let's give it a try!

Where and when: Purchased at BevMo, but I truly don't remember when. Color: Quite dark brown--almost opaque. Some head.
Scent: Tart/spicy, fairly typical root beer. Perhaps a little more tart than some, with a stronger smell of something like gentian root. Slightly reminiscent of the smell of Moxie.
Taste: Quite smooth. The initial taste is mostly sweet, with vanilla and cinnamon tones strong at the front. These fade into the background, leaving an interesting situation. It feels as though there's a strong lemony flavor trying to come in, but not quite making it. In my mind, I see a stretchy, soap-bubble-like membrane just holding back a flood of bright yellow citrus. It's straining, bulging in, but the smoother and spicier flavors are left to frolic and play, safe from the lemon tsunami. The herbal, gentian-like flavor isn't as strong as its smell would suggest.
It's pleasant. It's a bit more herbal than I usually associate with root beer--I usually prefer more cinnamon-y flavors--but it's enjoyable as it is.

A pleasant follow-up observation: there is no unpleasant aftertaste! It just sort of saunters off.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Kind of nice, actually. Surprisingly smooth and pleasant, with good aftertaste.
Cough rating: 0.5. The herbal background is a bit off-putting, but not really any problem.

*I'm looking forward to "Number Six Soda", or "Rover's Refreshing Lifestyle Drink". If I remember, based on the little animation that we saw whenever he was summoned, Rover was effectively an example of semi-sentient carbonation gone bad.

**Next they'll tell me that the Village doesn't really exist.

Drank Extreme Relaxation Beverage

2011-08-13T09:20:00.000-07:00

We at the Weird Soda Review Lab, being sober, serious types, tend to observe societal trends and memes from a detached and analytical perspective. "This new thing, which all of the young folk are doing," we ask, "what is its nature? Is it virtuous? Does it contribute to wholeness of soul and body?" For example, it has recently come to our attention that something called "Nyan Cat" has spread its influence over the internet. Despite our curiosity about this, we have not yet gone in search of it for two reasons.

1. We hear it involves rainbows and singing. As sober, serious types, we are suspicious of such indications of possible frivolity and lightheartedness. Hi-ho, round-the-maypole, tra-la-la-here-we-go-wibbling and all that. Humph.

2. "Nyan Cat" is dangerously close to sounding like "Nyarlathotep". As an entity with a thousand forms, each more monstrous and sanity-shaking than the last, Nyarlathotep can be a tricky one. A rainbow-spewing, flying kitty doesn't seem out of the realm of possibility as an Avatar of the Dark One.

Oh, what the heck. *Google*

Huh. I didn't expect the Pop Tart body. I don't think my sanity is particularly threatened, though...if it is Nyarlathotep himself, he's got some work ahead of him before he cameow meow MEOW meow MEOWmeowmeowmeowMEOWmeowMEOWMEOWmeowMEOWmeow...

*later*

Oh God...the things I have seen...

As I was saying, we are skeptical about cultural memes. Another amusing example is the EXTREME EVERYTHING movement, which has somewhat petered out in the last few years. For a while there, everything was extreme. It seemed that there could never be a thing worth doing which was not worth doing in an "extreme" fashion. A favorite of ours (which was poking fun at the whole thing) was this ad.

No activity, no matter how self-contradictory, was immune from being Extremed. And today we have the logical endpoint of the phenomenon: Drank Extreme Relaxation Beverage.

Drank (third from the left) pictured along with alternate methods for Extreme Relaxation. The Kibbitzer, who has a degree in literature, wishes to express her dissatisfaction with the inclusion of the leftmost item.

The name is especially intriguing. I would have expected the imperative form of the verb, i.e. "Drink". Such a name would be taken as a command to the person browsing the soda aisle, presumably increasing sales. On the other hand, perhaps that isn't specific enough; a general command to "Drink!" might result in the one receiving it simply seizing the nearest beverage.
The past-tense form gives an odd cast to the message. Is it implying that the drinking has already occurred, in a "why question fate/disrupt the timeline" sort of way?

Time to call our Wikipedia skills into play. Let's see..."Nyan Cat"...wait. No! NO NO NO!

Ah. That explains it.

Apparently, "Drank" can also refer to a brew consumed by youths who have insufficient respect for their elders. It consists of codeine and promethazine (from cough syrup), Jolly Ranchers, and soda, mixed into a sort of punch. It is evidently often made with grape candy and grape cough syrup, and thus is often known as "purple drank". It is associated with the hip-hop scene, and is linked to several deaths. I'm presuming that this contains neither codeine or promethazine, but maybe I'd better check the ingredients.
Nope. A bunch of B-complex vitamins, valerian root, melatonin, and sugar. This hardly seems to qualify as "extreme".

So what we have here is a Weird soda, clearly made to resemble or refer to an illicit and dangerous recreational drug, which makes claim to "extreme-ness" but is instead a can of vitamin-fortified herbal-supplement sugar water. *sigh* Kids these days. Get off my lawn.

Where and when: I have no idea where I got this or when. It's been in the fridge for months.
Color: You know, lavender doesn't really seem suitable for a beverage claiming Extreme heritage. Kind of pretty, though. Transparent.
K-i-C: "I'd say orchid."
Scent: Fairly strong, sweet, with berries being the dominant note. A strong contribution by something tart.
K-i-C: "You don't look relaxed."
Me: "But do I look extreme?"
K-i-C: "Smells like bug juice."
This catches me off guard, and makes me think I may have missed a chapter in my beloved's past. Did I marry Bear Grylls?
K-i-C: "Bug juice is extremely watered-down Kool-Aid."
EXTREME DILUTION!!!

Actually, that might be a good way to market homeopathic drugs. "Try new homeopathic digitalin, now in EXTREME 1,000,000,000-fold DILUTION!"

Taste: Huh. The taste isn't as strong as I would have guessed. It's sweet, but the rose hips add a lot of sour. There's an immediate but slight herbal bitterness, mild but present, which lingers a bit at the sides along with the sour. K-i-C: *grimace* *shrug* "Tastes like Fanta."

This is unimpressive. It's just not very interesting; it's not so much that it tastes bad, but I can't think of any reason why I would want to drink it. This is a beverage meant to appeal to those interested in or familiar with a dangerous homebrewed drug, but which will do nothing except (maybe) make you a bit sleepy, and which doesn't actually taste good. I'm not interested in the drug, and if I want to be sleepy, I just need to stay up late playing Mass Effect 2 or watching Deep Space Nine with the Kibbitzer. And that's a heck of a lot more fun.

Quaff rating: 1.5. Almost completely uninteresting to drink. Mildly interesting as a reference to sociocultural events.
Cough rating: 1.0. The herbal tastes are not especially pleasant.

Weird Soda Review featured on CBSNews.com

2011-08-10T12:36:00.000-07:00

Really, it was only a matter of time before a bastion of scholarship, research, and culinary adventure like the Weird Soda Review Labs would find itself in the national spotlight. I can only imagine that a seat at the UN Security Council will not be far behind*.

In any case, the Lab was recently contacted by a representative of CBSNews.com, requesting permission to use some of the images and text from WeirdSodaReview.com in a slideshow on their website. Careful consideration as to whether this would represent "selling out to the corporate world, hereafter known as the Man" ensued.

Quaffmaster: "I've called this meeting of the Weird Soda Review Lab staff to carefully consider an opportunity which has arisen."
Staff, in a chaotic burble of comments: "Tell us! What news? Is it the apocalypse?"
Quaffmaster: "CBSNews.com has requested permission to make a slideshow featuring some of our work. Now, we should deliberate as to whether this would..."
Staff, in a unified chorus of enthusiasm: "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! WE'RE GONNA BE ON THE NEWS!"

Permission was granted, by a vote of everyone to nobody.

The slideshow is here: http://www.cbsnews.com/2300-504784_162-10008960.html

*And we'll be ready. I participated in Model UN for several years during middle school, representing Thailand one year. If I remember, my co-delegate and I were unsuccessful in our grand scheme to end the session with a Thai takeover of the world.

Home-brewed Weirdness: Bacon Cream Soda

2011-07-16T22:21:00.000-07:00

The time has come.
The time is NOW.
Bacon Cream Soda, are you good enough*?

We wouldn't be much of a Lab if we didn't engage in original research and experimentation from time to time. This experiment came from a trip to BevMo recently, looking for butterscotch syrup (for the making of butterbeer). Although we didn't find any, I did pick up some Torani cherry and vanilla syrups. And then I saw it, hidden in there among the other Torani syrups...

I didn't even know they made a Bacon syrup.

Tiny Weirdness bells began to ring in my mind. The possibilities...! What hideous chimera-like creations could we produce with a bacon-flavored soda syrup?
And more to the point--if we, the staff of the Weird Soda Review labs, didn't make them, who else would dare?
Plus, Google searches for "soda reviews" invariably return reviews of Primus's album "Pork Soda". Just imagine...if we dare this feat, we will have actually made a pork soda! We must do this. We MUST.

But how? What can we use as a base?

And then it hit me. We must use the pinnacle of sodas--a cream soda--for this creation. We shall create a Bacon Cream Soda!

An early attempt at this mixture was distributed yesterday to a group of unsuspecting ~~victims~~ volunteers playing Order of the Stick at the Lab. Their responses varied between horror and disgust to a certain bemused disdain, tinged by nausea. Worth noting is that not one of them finished the serving they were given. Some ended up poured down the sink (effects on the sewer system, treatment plant, and employees thereof are still under investigation), and I suspect there may have been a certain amount of discreet smuggling to the toilet. Some was even offered to the Lab dogs, Freya and Flitwick. The dogs turned it down after a single sniff, despite the fact that it smelled like bacon.

This can only be considered an unqualified success.

Several days later, after a suitable lighning storm to obtain the 1.21 gigawatts of energy needed for the fusion, and the establishment of new sodahazard level 5 precautions at the Lab, I am pleased to report (with singed hair and a wild-eyed look) success. It has been created. It waits on the table, in a small cup. The first Bacon Cream soda ever created at the Lab.

To accomplish this, I mixed five parts Zevia Cream Soda with one part Torani Bacon Syrup. And now it shall get its due--a proper review.

Where and when: The Zevia was obtained from Whole Foods. The Torani syrup came from BevMo. The idea arose from N'kai, in all likelihood.
Color: Disturbingly fizzy, significantly more than the usual Zevia. Dark amber, ever-so-slightly cloudy. Glistens eerily.
K-i-C: "It is actually amber. As in the color of amber."
Scent: Just sitting here with it on the table in front of me, I am detecting a disturbing scent of fried bacon. It's actually pretty accurate--maybe slightly sweter than the real thing, but otherwise, highly reminiscent of actual bacon. The fact that it is two feet away from me is impressive; I'm not sure I've ever detected the smell of a Weird soda from this distance.
Closer up, the smell is quite strong. The bacon now has a strong side-scent of maple. It's very much as if you poured maple syrup on bacon (which the K-i-C is fond of doing. Weird breakfast.)
K-i-C: "Smells like Der Waffle Haus."
I note with approval that she is likening the smell to a fictional diner featured in "Dead Like Me". Clearly, our creation is eating away at the barriers which separate our sane, rational universe from its own imaginary creations.
Taste: I'm not sure if I hate it or love it.

The bacon taste is extremely strong, almost overwhelming. At this point, I should really take a moment aside to offer Torani my sincere congratulations on the creation of an accurate bacon syrup. What other havoc can be wreaked with this?

The bacon has transmogrified the sweet, slightly acidic vanilla of the Zevia into a maple-ish vanilla hybrid, which twines itself along the bacon. The two mix in a remarkable way; a vined scaffold of sweet/salty breakfast soda emerges, hung with glistening pods from which pork fat gently drips, to fall sizzling onto a sweetened griddle.

Another sip. I am astonished; it's actually good. Quite good. The worst part is the smell just before you sip; that's mostly bacon, which clashes badly with the expectation of a soda. However, once the soda actually hits your tongue...it's almost nice. Better than the Tofurky and Gravy soda, at least.

K-i-C: "It's true, it smells worse than it tastes. The aftertaste is..."*reluctantly*"...actually pleasant. "
*makes "yuck faces"*
K-i-C: "It's got that fake sugary feel."
She smacks her lips and grimaces in disgust a few times.
K-i-C: "It tastes like a carbonated $2.99 breakfast special. Like someone took your cheap bacon and got cheap maple syrup all over it."
The K-i-C is now recoiling. She regards the creation with fear and loathing.
Mad? MAD, you say? They called me mad at Oxford, too! But I'll show them!

I actually kind of like cheap diner food, which may explain our difference of opinion. It may be that this tastes good only in contrast to how it smells and how I expected it to taste, but the fact remains--it's kind of good. Kind of not, too--it manages to feel greasy, and the contrast, while interesting, is not entirely a good thing.

I am astonished, but happy to report it, to find that this is not just very Weird, but almost tolerable. Go forth, all you who seek Weirdness in your beverages, and make variants upon the Bacon Cream soda. I note that ThinkGeek (the best catalog in existence) sells a variety of bacon-related merchandise; perhaps an arrangement can be reached...

I wonder if a buttered pancake soda is possible?

I will provide ratings as if this were a soda we purchased, but as a Lab creation, we will regard this as ineligible for inclusion on any lists.
Quaff rating: 3.0. Interesting, and surprisingly good.
Cough rating: 2.0. The smell and initial taste did make me pause and close my eyes.

*"Enough" pronounced with the same "-ough" phoneme as "bough"**
** Which, I am told, is actually an acceptable archaic pronunciation for the word. So there.

Zevia Cream Soda

2011-07-16T21:32:00.000-07:00

One hazard of Weird Soda reviewing is that all that sugar--that lovely cane sugar, or the lesser high-fructose corn syrup--carries a significant number of calories. Those calories have led me, the Quaffmaster, to possess a certain amount of excess abdominal infrastructure*.
Thus, it would behoove me to investigate the less energetically-enhanced varieties of Weird soda. In fact, one might even say that producing sweetness without sugar is inherently a Weirdness-enhancing endeavor. Doing so with an herb such as stevia (which we grow in the Lab backyard) is an odd thing, but we must not flinch from such a thing.

Stevia produces a very sweet taste, with an odd set of accompanying flavors. It always feels to me to have a certain amount of bitter undertone. Not enough to be unpleasant, but it can alter tastes. We've reviewed another offering from Zevia (one of the leading stevia soda canners), their Black Cherry flavor, which did well with the unique flavors of stevia. However, tonight we will put Zevia to the test. They have dared the highest peaks of sodadom, and released a cream soda.

The Zevia cream soda, next to some fancy bread. Cause we're fancy folks.

Readers of this blog will probably be aware of my love of cream sodas. "Passionate" would not be an excessively strong description. Can this stand up to the giants of cream? Let the tasting begin.

Where and when: Purchased at Whole Foods, Encinitas, CA, in July 2011.
Color: A moderately dark amber. Just a bit darker than a lager, and a tiny bit more orange than most urine.
Scent: Pretty clear vanilla cream, no hint of herbal or bitter. A typical sharper/sweet vanilla--the french vanilla, rather than bourbon vanilla, style.
Taste: The vanilla is quite strong, almost too much so. This is not a subtle cream soda; this vanilla steps up in a ten-gallon Stetson, says "Howdy", and sells you a used Ford. The stevia herbal flavor is all but buried. It does poke through a bit, like tall grass through rusted floorboards, but it's actually kind of nice with the vanilla. Lends a bit of interest to the low side of the taste. Could almost taste metallic, but doesn't.

As a strong french-vanilla style cream soda, this is actually pretty good. Not the best I've ever had, but not bad at all. I prefer it to most other stevia sodas I've had.

I pronounce this a worthy cream soda, of the slightly Weird variety.

Quaff rating: 3.5. I'm giving it a bonus for the interesting interaction between the vanilla and stevia.
Cough rating: 0.5; almost overpoweringly sweet.

*I'm sure that the occasional** visits to Jack-In-The-Box have NOTHING to do with it.
**The word "occasional" is not, in this case, meant to be taken as a statement of fact.

Sioux City Prickly Pear

2011-07-07T12:36:00.000-07:00

Once more the global reputation of the Weird Soda Review Lab has brought us a windfall. Undoubtedly drawn by the impeccable credentials of the Lab as a bastion of scholarship, unimpeachable integrity, and enthusiastic Weirdness, the Sioux City company (whose birch beer and sarsaparilla we have previously quaffed) have sent us their latest concoction, Prickly Pear.

Prickly Pear is, of course, a cactus whose fruit and flesh (as nopales) are edible. I am going to presume that this soda is based on the fruit, and that the spines have been removed.

In addition, since I have recently been volunteering as a stagehand at Vista's "Moonlight Ampitheater", I will write the rest of the review in iambic pentameter.

*ahem*

Sioux City, knowing of our peerless wit
And trusting us to weigh their Prickly Pear
'gainst other sodas, did vouchsafe to us
A sample, which we now shall quaff and rate.

The bottle, clearest glass, doth show its shade;
Magenta like unto the rosy light
When Helios, our sun, has dipped below
The rim of Earth, and clouds are painted red

Decanting some, I raise my cup and sniff
Allowing effervescence to convey
The essence of its fruity scent within.
My nostrils read its tale, and thus I speak:

A sweetness strong it shows, but not alone;
Intriguing shades of fruit do lie beneath,
Tart berries war with citrus, scent on scent.
A mellow note alloys the sweet and tart.

The youngest of the tasting personnel
Reports the smell as "Cherry!" and seems glad.
The Lead Assistant Tester claims he finds
"Strawberry, cherry, plasticky" therein.

I'll not deny the berries they perceive;
Indeed, those fruits encompass well the scent,
Though I would place a lemon in the mix,
perhaps a lime, and berries at the front.

And now comes tasting; do we fear to quaff
This rosy brew? No, no! The scent is kind,
Raspberry-tart, and not suggesting that
Within lies any horror unforeseen.

We taste! The smell has led us true, the drink
Is pear and berries, citrus comes in strong.
Raspberry! That's the flavor I detect.
"Quite tart!" the Lead Assistant says (and true).

The Lead Assistant and the Nazgul both
Declare their joy in quaffing Prickly Pear.
Myself, I find that, while the taste is nice,
The aftertaste is not what I desired.

Initial tastes of berriews, lime, and pear
O'ertaken by a rush of sour regret;
Not wholly bad, but still regrettable
If only it had mellowed at the end!

This soda is not one to fear or shun.
The others in the Lab enjoyed the taste.
I'll not pretend to find it without peer,
But not half bad. I'd drink this down again.

But how to rate it? On the scale of Quaff,
A 3.5 would best describe the taste.
It's interesting, and has a certain flair,
But not among the best I've ever had.

In Cough, 'twas nothing which inspired my gorge
To rise; I found it drinkable enough.
The sourness of the aftertaste alone
Inspires a nought-point-five; no more is just.

*whew*

Well, there you have it. Sioux City has produced a pleasant cactus-flavored soda. Really, fruit-flavored is a better description; raspberry is by far the strongest feel it gives.

"Day" of Coconut #4: Micoco

2011-06-16T11:32:00.000-07:00

There are Weird sodas which make you want to quaff them with desperate longing. Somewhere out there, there's a cherry-pear-vanilla cream soda, moderately carbonated, with cane sugar and agave. It'll taste like summer. It will swirl opalescently in the glass bottle, glowing faintly with its own inner radiance. That is the Ultimate Weird Soda, and I will someday approach it at sunset, winding my horn, to do some unimaginable final Quaffing.

Then there are Weird sodas which you have to quaff despite the fact that they are almost certainly going to be vile. To quaff all that is quaffable is your calling, and that includes the barely-quaffable but very Weird. These are the ones which, once you have recovered, find you clinging to a spare bit of furniture, gnashing your teeth and bemoaning the fate which led you to open that bottle/can/crate/whatever.

And then there are the ones which simultaneously intrigue and frighten you. They might be okay. They might even be good, but that's not why you have them. You have them because there was something compellingly Weird about them, something which compels you. You can't look away. You find yourself coming back to them, imagining the quaffing to come.

I invite you to look at this, Micoco, the fourth and last of the coconut-based sodas on this ever-lengthening Day of Coconut, and see which you think it is.

Errrr....that had better not be backwash.

Keep in mind when looking at that picture that those floating bits of...stuff...don't move. Ever. I think that's what I noticed first about Micoco; the floating bits are perfectly motionless. They must be almost perfectly neutrally buoyant. I'm not sure what to make of that. I had this bottle of Micoco in the Lab fridge for weeks, and they didn't settle to the bottom. As far as I could tell, they didn't shift at all.

I did consider the possibility that the liquid part of the Micoco was more of a gel, and was holding them in place--but no, when you swirl the bottle, they move. They then gradually settle into a new configuration, and stay there, holding perfectly still. There's an almost Zen-like quality about them; points of perfect stillness, neither sinking nor rising, but simply existing in their place. They are neither immobile nor mobile; they move when their surroundings move, let return to a state of equilibrium immediately when their bottle becomes still.

I thought about heating the bottom and seeing if I could get it to act like a circulating glitter lamp, but feared doing so might alter the taste.

In any case, this is a Weird phenomenon, and so I'm gonna quaff it. I have this image of bits of (presumably) coconut pulp floating, perfectly motionless, in my digestive tract, being slowly moved along. Perhaps I will acquire some of that stillness.

Where and when: Appeared in a mysterious flash of blue light on the Lab table, March 2011*.
Color: Cloudy, ever-so-slightly yellow-gray, transparent enough to observe the floating bits of coconut pulp and their unsettling immobility.
Scent: Wow. Very weird. Not really sweet at all-faint, slightly bready or even meaty. More like pot roast, maybe? With potatoes.
JAT: "It doesn't really smell like anything, just a slightly limey-coconut."
K-i-C: *extravagant grimace* "I was thinking slightly of spitup. Not vomit, mind you."
Me: "So like baby spitup?"
K-i-C: "Yeah."
LAT: "I see what the K-i-C is saying. I liked it better smelling it through the bottle."
K-i-C: "That's because you couldn't smell it as much."

The smell is pretty foul, actually. I don't get spitup--I still think it's more like a roast potato--but I see what she means.

Taste: K-i-C: *immediately spits it back into the cup*
LAT: "Almost...kind of...creamy. Kind of creamy starch? Ewwww."
Ugh. The texture is fairly thick, slightly syrupy but not sticky. The taste is much sweeter than the smell. Tastes a little bit like pancake batter.
LAT: "I don't like it at all."
K-i-C: "I think my opinion is fairly clear."

*sip* Whoa...ugh. I actually almost spit that sip out. It's sweet, thick, and vaguely starchy. If it were chunky, it would be sort of like a sweet porridge. It's...

LAT: "Upsetting?"

Yeah. That's a good word for it. This is an upsetting beverage. It's really quite sweet, but with a nasty undercurrent of starchiness/slight saltiness, and a texture like a thin cornstarch soup. Between the weird taste and disturbing texture, it's enough to make me want to spit it out too. So, naturally, I'm going to have another sip. Because that's what I do.
*sip*
*restrain urge to vomit*

Oh...good gracious God.

Maybe I don't like coconut as much as I thought.
Interestingly, the label says it's imported from Thailand by the "Squalo Trading Company". I note that "Squalo" is just a letter short of "Squalor", which is the image in my mind.
Just beneath that is a cartoon of a person tossing a beverage container backwards over his head. I would assume that that is a suggestion to recycle, but the container is not labeled as such. Thus, I have decided that it is, instead, a suggestion subtly worked onto the label by someone involved in the bottling process, urging the consumer to dispose of this stuff before drinking it. The blissful smile on the cartoon person's face suggests that his decision has filled him with a sense of peace and contentment. I, too, once had such a look on my face. About ten minutes ago.

But I am the Quaffmaster, and contentment is not my ka.

At least now I know about the floating bits of pulp. Their Zen-like calm is not a result of perfect equanimity, or of unit with the universe. It's the stillness of a praying mantis, waiting for the perfect moment to strike as a newborn butterfly emerges from its chrysalis. They are floating bits of evil, waiting for the stars to be right. On that day, they shall spring into dreadful and portentous motion indeed.

Quaff rating: The flavor is interesting and unusual, in the sense that nobody should make any of it ever again. 1.5.
Cough rating: I've had worse, but not a whole lot of them. 3.5.

* Actually, The rest of the Lab staff got this one for me at Stater Brothers, Vista, CA

"Day" of Coconut #3: Goya Coconut Soda

2011-06-12T10:52:00.000-07:00

We continue in our voyage through the seas of Coconut Weirdness today with a quaffing of Goya's Coconut Soda. This comes to us in an attractive green bottle, with an appealing picture of a coconut. It also bears the sobering and stark warning "ARTIFICIAL FLAVORS". This is interesting; most sodas boldly claim "No artificial flavors!", or humbly admit "Natural and artificial flavors" (while averting their eyes and mumbling like an embarrassed adolescent). This one say "Yeah, my flavors are artificial. All of them. Every single one a proud product of human-supervised synthetic chemistry. I'm post modern, baby, a techno-thriller that'll assimilate your taste buds."

A green bottle of synthetic goodness.

This soda is proud of its heritage in a vat somewhere in New Jersey.
Or maybe not; there is no ingredient label or nutritional info present. I have no idea what this contains. It might never have been close to a coconut. It might conceivably contain axle grease. Or powdered hummingbird. Or swarms of nanobots which will restructure my intestines into a 1:100 scale model of Notre Dame.
But does it taste like coconut?

Where and when: Given to me by ChopChop in March 2011.
Color: Completely transparent, no color.
Scent: Very faint. I suspect it's supposed to smell like coconut meat, but it doesn't quite. It's got a sharp, kind of acrid feel high in the nose. Sweet undertone.
K-i-C: *grimace* "Stinky."

Taste: The initial taste is sweet, but with an odd acid background. The taste of shredded sweetened coconut meat is clear. It's also somewhat reminiscent of cotton candy.
K-i-C: "Tastes fine. Doesn't have much of a flavor at all, actually. I just taste sugar and carbonation."
This surprises me.I wouldn't have guessed that this would please the Kibbitzer, given her dislike of coconut and soda. Perhaps she has become too jaded.
It's much more like a typical soda than the Amy and Brian juices, both because it is carbonated and because of the much stronger sweetness.
A larger sip produces a stronger acid/tart feel, which is not a good thing.
Wyvern: "Even less pumpkin-y." (than the other two juice-based ones)

Quaff rating: Fairly tasty, if a bit tart. 3.0
Cough rating: Nothing too terrible. 0.5.

"Day" of Coconut #2: Amy and Brian All Natural Coconut Juice with Lime

2011-06-11T09:10:00.000-07:00

One of the problems with dealing with advanced science like Weird Soda Reviewing is that you sometimes encounter odd phenomena. For example, when reviewing the previous coconut-based beverage, I intended that all four of the candidates would be reviewed in the same epic Day of Coconut.
Oddly enough, the seriousness of this undertaking led to an unusual phenomenon. Given that seriousness can be referred to as "gravity", we inadvertently increased the local gravitational field. Thus, to an outside observer, time in the Lab (where we were undergoing a task with such immense gravitas) seemed to slow relative to those observers (i.e. y'all). Hence, while it may seem as though more than one day has gone by in your reference frame since the review of the previous coconut juice, rest assured that this is simply an alteration in apparent time brought about by the immense gravity of the situation, and in actuality, we are still in the Day of Coconut.

Plus, the slower passage of time should lower the pitch of sounds. So while you read this, make sure to imagine it being spoken in a very deep, impressive bass voice. James Earl Jones would do nicely.

Anyway, we're now going to review another Amy and Brian Coconut Juice. Their other one was, simply, coconut juice. You may recall that I found it somewhat disturbing*. As it turns out, the Kibbitzer-in-Chief (much to my surprise) found it refreshing and pleasant. I sometimes really don't understand her.**

Well, Amy and Brian have an alternative available, presumably for those who find the straight-up coconut juice insufficiently tangy. Today, it's Coconut Juice with Lime. Fortunately, it is still (according to the can) isotonic, so my cells shouldn't burst or shrink or anything.

Now with Lime!

Where and when: Purchased at some point at Frazier Farms market, in Vista, CA
Color: Much like the plain coconut juice, but cloudier and ever-so-slightly tinged with green, making it a pale yellow-green.
Scent: Interesting. The tartness of the lime is very evident, overlaying the ever-so-slightly sweet/salty smell of the coconut juice. Reminiscent of lemon-lime Gatorade, but stronger and lime-ier.
Taste: The initial taste is sweet, but less coconutty than the plain coconut juice. The lime/citrus is strong, but adds nicely to the sweet. The best news is that the musky, sweaty aftertaste of the plain juice is less present here. The initial sweetness does still fade into a somewhat musky, melony complex aftertaste, but it's less icky than the plain juice--significantly so. It does linger a bit.

*sip*

Yes, this is definitely better, at least as far as my preferences are concerned. It's still not something I would greedily seek out and chug, but it's better.

I wonder how Amy and Brian came to decide that lime was the proper additive.

The Kibbitzer-in-Chief informs me that I shouldn't expect coconut juice to taste like coconut meat, and that this muskiness is normal and appropriate for coconut juice. How unfortunate for coconuts.

Quaff rating: Interesting complexity, and the flavor isn't bad. 3.0
Cough rating: Much less likely to make me gag. 1.5.

*"I find your flavor disturbing." Now imagine it in James Earl Jones' voice. Yeah.

**On the other hand, the superiority of her aesthetic judgment over mine is well-established and beyond question, so you may want to keep that in mind.

Day of the Coconut #1: Amy & Brian All Natural Coconut Juice

2011-06-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

I've got a bubbly bunch of coconuts.
There they are a-standin' in a row.
Canned ones, glass ones, some with odd floaty bits
I'll do a review, and when I am through,
I'll probably call it quits.*

It has been my observation that people feel strongly about coconut. I'm fond of it, myself--macaroons are good, and a nice Mounds bar** always lifts my spirits. The Kibbitzer-in-Chief, on the other hand, loathes coconut. She will break into headlong, panicked flight at the appearance of pina colada Jelly Bellies.
Being who I am, my first impulse upon preparing to write this group of reviews was to do some reading about coconuts. I learned that they are fruits rather than nuts***, and that not many people are killed by falling coconuts each year. Apparently, the "coco" part of the name probably refers to a type of boogeyman in Spanish and Portuguese-speaking cultures, which would abduct or devour disobedient children. The three "eyes" of the coconut look something like a skull, or somehow were reminiscent of this mythical tool of frustrated parents.

We can be glad that our name for this fruit derives from Romance languages, as I guess the Anglicized equivalent could well have been "Boogeyfruit".

In any case, presumably because they are terrified of the slight resemblance between the intact fruit and a mythical monster of Portuguese folklore, some people don't like coconut. (Personally, I think it would be kind of empowering to take something which resembled the head of a feared childhood image, crack it open, and feast on the innards****. But maybe that's just me.) Anyway, there are a number of Weird beverages which are based, partially or entirely, on coconut. Many are not carbonated, and thus not technically soda. There is precedent for this variation within the Lab's mission, however, so we will forge ahead.

Today, we are reviewing four coconut-based beverages. The first two are a pair of juice-based beverages from the "Amy & Brian" label. I'm not sure what to make of Amy & Brian; the graphic depicts two silhouettes of people engaged in some sort of funkified movement, presumably induced by their enjoyment of coconut juice.

The funkification of Amy and Brian lends a certain sincerity to this beverage.

Lets begin by quaffing the first of the pair, Amy & Brian All NAtural Coconut Juice. According to the ingredients label, this is, in fact, just coconut juice. It also claims to be an "isotonic" beverage, which in physiology terms means that it has a similar overall amount of dissolved "stuff" as your body's blood plasma and extracellular fluid (aka Human Juice). Good to know.

Where and when: Purchased sometime in 2011 at Frazier Farms market, Vista, CA
Color: Unexected. I guess I was expecting this to pur out looking like coconut milk; instead, it's mostly transparent, slightly cloudy, and a tiny bit yellow. Actually, it looks a bit like blood plasma. Considering its claim to be isotonic, this is a bit upsetting.
Scent: Sweet, unexpectedly musky and acidic. The musk is actually quite strong in the scent. Again, not what I expected, and not much like coconut meat.
LAT: "Ewww! It smells disgusting."
Wyvern: "Awww! *cough* I think I'm going to choke."
LAT: "Smells kind of like pumpkin."

Taste: Hmmm...gluh. The initial taste is sweet and musky, reminiscent of cantaloupe. There's a moderate amount of saltiness behind it. Kind of tastes like sweat, actually.
The aftertaste, coming in around 7-8 seconds, is not an improvement. Salty and earthy. I keep sipping from the cup, trying to get more of the fairly pleasant initial taste, but it keeps going away.
I'll give it this: it has interest and complexity. This is not a simple taste by any means; I am getting a full experience with this bit of Weirdness.
About a minute later, the aftertaste is fading (which is good). To my surprise, I am left feeling kind of good about it. I don't really have an explanation for that; I'd say 65% of the quaffing experience was unpleasant. Yet now, afterwards, I am going to voluntarily sip it again.

*sip*

Ugh. That was a mistake; it's worse now. The initial melon-y is accompanied by a sharp salty/sour taste which is quite icky.

This one feels dangerous. I fear that as I let this sip settle, I'll want more. If the next one has continued to worsen, it might go badly for me.

*sip*

I actually feel a teeny tiny stomach clench whenever I first sip this. Yet still, there's something satisfying after it. It just takes a minute or so to get there.

How odd. I'm really not sure what to make of this one. I don't think I've ever had something which actually made me ever-so-slightly nauseated, yet left me thinking about having more--not even Moxie.

LAT: *tentative sip* "That's not that bad.
Wyvern: "Eeeeeuuuuhhhh."
LAT: "Kind of like a liquid, watery pumpkin. Not bad."

Quaff rating: 3. It has an interesting and complex taste, I have to admit it.
Cough rating: 3. Anything which actually makes me grimace has to get a 3 at least.

* The other version ended in the line "I'll probably have the..."
Er. Well, you may not need me to fill in the blank.

** But not the accursed Almond Joy, for it has almonds, and those are unworthy. Apparently, on the "Feel like a nut" vs. "Don't feel like a nut" scale, I am firmly in the "Don't" side. This will probably come as a surprise to anyone who has observed my behavior or read anything Ive ever written.

*** Somehow, the advertising "Sometimes you feel like a fruit. Sometimes you don't." never caught on.

**** My childhood fear was of the kitchen clock; I had a recurring nightmare in which the hands stretched out and grabbed me, and I was eaten. It would probably be less tasty than a coconut, so this avenue of resolving childhood terrors is unavailable to me. Alas.

Ständer Refreshing Lifestyle Drink

2011-05-26T12:42:00.000-07:00

Once again, Weird Soda Review's illustrious position as the fifth most popular soda review website* has brought us to the attention of the elite bottlers of the soda world. Twice in the last few days, in fact. Two (count them, two!) bottler have contacted the Lab, wishing to send us samples of Weirdness for evaluation. Well, who could blame them? Weird Soda Review is cool****.

The first to arrive was Ständer Refreshing Lifestyle Drink.

If this is a "Lifestyle Drink", then I thought it should be placed in a setting which reflects my lifestyle.

I'm not sure where "lifestyle drink" lies in the beverage taxonomy. I think I'd classify this is a soda, but perhaps it is only intended for consumption as part of specific cultures or faith perspectives. What lifestyle is compatible with Ständer compatible with?

It came to us (and yes, it was addressed to The Quaffmaster at the Weird Soda Review Lab) in a sizeable box. When I opened it, I found a substantial number of small black metal bottles packed in like terra-cotta soldiers in a Chinese imperial tomb. Also included were preparation suggestions (including a mixed drink known as the "One-Night Stander"), information about the ingredients (beet sugar, lemon and spearmint flavors, various B-vitamins, and caffeine (more on that later)), and helpful distribution information (if you need 67,584 bottles of Ständer, then you should order a 40 foot container).

Mint sodas are not usually my favorite, and this seemed to be intended as much as a mixer for liquor as a soda, but I'd say it could be considered Weird enough for the Lab. It's carbonated, it's sweet, it's...caffeinated.

Wait a minute.

There are 80 milligrams of caffeine in each 8.45 oz. bottle. Just in case you're not familiar with caffeine dosages, here are some examples:

Red Bull has about 80 mg of caffeine per can.
A serving of espresso has about 100 mg of caffeine.
An extra-strength No-Doz kind of alertness pill has about 200 mg of caffeine.

This stuff is quite strongly caffeinated. Combined with the sugar, this is really closer to an energy-drink kind of beverage than a simple Weird soda. Still, we must have no fear--this, too, shall be quaffed. However, I feel that it is important to point something out here. The infamous 4Loko beverage (which caused significant problems not too long ago) was problematic because it contained a substantial dose of both alcohol and caffeine. In at least some consumers, it may be that the effects of the caffeine mask the feeling of intoxication from the alcohol, making it harder for the drinker to gauge how intoxicated he or she is becoming.

While Ständer does not contain alcohol, its marketing material makes it clear that it is intended both as a stand-alone soda and as an ingredient in mixed drinks. If you drink this with alcohol, please do so cautiously, and with awareness that you may not feel as much effect from the alcohol as you normally would, but you are still intoxicated.

That said, let's get on with the quaffing. I have with me in the Lab tonight the usual staff, along with Scruffynuts and Olfactorex. I am looking forward to their input on this bit of Weirdness, not least because Olfactorex's name comes from the fact that she has an impaired sense of smell. From a neurological perspective, how much this affects her perception of Ständer will be an interesting thing to assess.

I've described the beverage and its ingredients to the assembled cre.

LAT: "I think I'm going to bounce off the walls after this."

Where and when: Sent to me by the bottler, May 2011
Color: Scruffynuts: “Well, it's clear.”
Indeed. It's transparent, and quite bubbly in appearance.
LAT: "It looks like water...that's really bubbly."

Scent: Moderately strong mint, with a sweet smell of citrus. I'd call it orange rather than lemon.
LAT: “Kind of lemony mint-orange.”
Olfactorex: “I'm not getting any mint, but I have...smell issues.”
Scruffynuts: “I get the mint more than anything. I guess there is a citric-minty flavor.”
K-i-C: “It's very minty.”
LAT: “Kind of ginger ale.”
Nazgul: “It's hard to explain.” (NOTE: this may sound familiar to long-time followers of Nazgul's (nee Wyvern, nee(2)JAT) reviews.
Scruffynuts: “A tang isn't a scent, is it?”

Taste: Sweeter than I expected. The citrus is weaker than I was anticipating, and the mint is surprisingly subtle. It's very sweet, with a background of mintiness, and the lemon is mild. Fairly pleasant, actually.
LAT: “Wow!”
Nazgul: “Wow.”
K-i-C: “It's nowhere near as bubbly as it looked.”
This is true, the carbonation is faint, bith little of the usual acid taste (although it might easily be masked).
LAT: “It tastes like a slight lemon.”
K-i-C: “More like mint iced tea.”
LAT: “I have a weird feeling after drinking this”
Me: “It doesn't work that fast.”
LAT: “Awwww.”
Scruffynuts: “I'm not sure, but if it...a slightly cinnamony taste?”

He's right. There's a cinnamon quality to the aftertaste, delayed by around 20-30 seconds. Maybe even a bit of a bite.

Scruffynuts: ”It tastes different than it smells. What do you think, Olfactorex?”
Nancy: “Nothing. It tastes like a flat ginger ale.”

Interesting. That's not how I would have described it; it's as if she's picking up on the spiciness (which is quite mild) or mint, but not the citrus. Apparently, smell issues have a strong effect on this.

It's actually not bad at all, a pleasant mint-citrus-fruit, milder than expected.

LATER: A few minutes later, there is a very delayed aftertaste: kind of unpleasantly tart-musky. It's not overpowering, but not a lot of fun either.

MUCH LATER: It's 3 am, and I am not sleepy at all. Note to self: avoid large caffeine doses.

Upon much analysis and reflection, I think that--in this particular case--"Lifestyle Drink" represents an affectation more than a substantial difference from other beverages. It's a soda. The fact that it can be mixed with alcohol is not sufficient to allow it to establish a new taxonomic category of "Lifestyle Drink", except inasmuch as what sodas you consume might say something about your lifestyle. For example, I suspect consumption of large amounts of this--while it tastes good, and is pleasant to quaff--would result in my lifestyle edging closer to "insomniac".

Quaff rating: The orange/lemon and mint do surprisingly well together, and this is actually quite nice. Not extremely complex or interesting, but nice. 3.0.
Cough rating: Upon first consuming it, nothing really unpleasant happens. There are some odd aftertastes later (and the caffeine kick is substantial, and for me, unpleasant), but there's very little which is objectionable. 0.5.

* Out of...er...five**
** I'm completely making that up. I have no idea of our relative popularity***
*** But it's probably about right.

**** Along with bow ties, the humble fez, stetson hats, and bunk beds.

Sprecher Red Apple

2011-05-24T22:15:00.000-07:00

We saw the hills ahead. The hills were old. The hills were rocky and tall like the mountains behind them, except not quite that tall because if they were they would have blocked our view of the mountains. A stillness sat upon the hills. Heat and grasses swayed in the afternoon sun. The road led us straight verite on to the hills.
I turned to my companions, and asked if any water remained. They checked the cupholders.
“No,” they said, “there is no water here.”
The road began to curve. The curves made the van lean outwards. I thought I might tell my wife about how the van leaned, but then I remembered that she had stayed home because she was sick. Sometimes people are sick. We rose higher into the hills. I began to notice the smell of sweat in the cabin, as the sun heated the air, but didn't say anything because it didn't seem right and it would make a soupcon of noise.
I asked whether the air conditioning was on. They checked the console.
“No,” they said, “it is not on.”
The road wound higher into the hills. Rocks emerged from the soil of the hillside. The soil was yellow and sandy. The rocks were granite. The granite was old and hard. It stood under the sun, indifferent to the heat like the road was indifferent to the heat. The heat was hot and coming down on the rocks and the road. Places like this were sometimes hot. And rocky .
I asked whether we were there yet. They checked the map.
“No,” they said, “we are not there yet.”
We were going to Julian. Julian was in the mountains, and this road led to it. As we reached the top of the hills, I dwelt on the thought that we were going to the mountains where Julian was. There were apples in Julian. It was famous for its apples. And its pie. I wondered if there were apples in the pie it was famous for. Why would you make pie in a place famous for apples, like Julian was, if you weren't going to make apple pie?
I asked whether there was apple pie in Julian. They checked the “Welcome to Julian” booklet.
“Yes,” they said, “there is apple pie.”
After the heat and rocks we came to Julian, which was small and had a lot of trees. I thought about the heat and rocks, and noticed that there were rocks in Julian, but not as much heat. The heat was mostly in the hills. I guessed that the mountains had less heat. We were going to the wolf center, which was a place where they kept wolves. There weren't any wolves where I was from, so I guessed they were all in Julian. After the wolves, we would get pie. The pie would have apples, and it would be hot, so I thought maybe we would have to wait for the hills to eat it.
We saw the wolves. They were unspeakably masculine and alone, except when there were more than one together, and I thought about being a wolf. If I were a wolf, I thought, I would be alone and sit on rocks and look at hills. I guess that's how wolves think. I was thinking about apple pie, but didn't say anything about it. Then we shivered back to the main street of Julian, which didn't have any rocks. On the way to pie, we stopped by a small store where they sold candy. I didn't want any candy, because I don't eat sweet things except pie and cake. I looked at the candy store, and slipped inside the enter-ance. Once inside, there was Weird soda. I guessed they had Weird soda along with the pie, except there wasn't any pie in this shop. I decided to check just to be sure, because sometimes you can't be sure that there's no pie unless you ask. I didn't ask, one time, and it turned out there was.
I asked if they had apple pie. They checked behind the counter.
“No,” they said, “there is no apple pie.”
I looked at her, gauging her eyes and the distance between us. She was wearing a nice shirt. I got her card and asked about which of the sodas she would recommend to someone who had just come from the hills where the rocks and heat were. She recommended the Sprecher Red Apple. She said it was her favorite. Her shirt convinced me, so I took it and two other sodas and also took her card, because I might want to come back sometime and see if there was any pie. But there probably wouldn't be, it didn't seem like the kind of place that would have pie.
Then we went and had pie at a place that did have pie. I had apple pie. The apples were in Julian, as was the pie, the shop which had pie, and the shop which didn't have pie but did have Weird soda. I guess they had apple pie, instead of rocks and heat, there in Julian.
We came out of the mountains and the hills, and left the rocks and heat behind as we drove back on the road. The road was curvy at first, then straight, and I thought that they must have had curvy and straight roads in Julian too. Why you would have pie and Weird soda, but not curvy and straight roads, was something I couldn't imagine. But maybe that's how they did it in Julian.

Where and when: Purchased May 2011 at The Candy Basket, Julian, CA*
Color: Surprisingly, bright red. As in scarlet. The foam leaves an an odd residue.
K-i-C: “Flat. As in nonreflective. Maybe it's just my angle.”
Her angle is acute. She is also acute. Acute woman**.
Scent: Whoo! Apple cider. Serious apple cider.
K-i-C: “Uuuuugh!”
The K-i-C says there's cherry Luden's dissolved in the apple cider.
Seriously, it's a powerful smell. The apple is very strong.
K-i-C: “No! It's those sour apple candies. The ones that come in the little rattly box. Anyway, it's quite dreadful. It smells strongly of fake.”
Me: “Fake what?”
K-i-C: “Just fake. There's this big box of Fake they use in candy and sodas. You can get it at Smart n' Final, next to the White they use to make ranch dressing and mashed potatoes in school cafeterias. Didn't you know that?”
I can't say I did.
Taste: Sweet, cool, and strongly tasting of “green apple” candy.
K-i-C: grimacing “Does this have some redeeming medicinal value or something?”

The first cool, apple-y taste (not very real apple—none of the tartness and slight bitter of a real apple, more like a candy apple) fades. A slight, very slight tartness lingers at the top of the mouth. The taste isn't quite as strong as the smell.

Oddly, like with the other Sprecher product I've tried, there isn't as much aftertaste as after-texture—a slightly oily feel in the mouth. It's not pleasant.

K-i-C: “I will admit that it wasn't as terrible in my mouth as it was trying to get it into my mouth. However, I tasted it several minutes ago, and I can still feel it. It's like a film in my mouth. Undesirable. Undesirable, I say!”

So we agree, it leaves an oddly physical sensation afterwards.

I don't mind the taste—I even kind of like it. It's certainly quite distinctive. However, the K-i-C finds it extremely aversive.

There is actual apple juice in this, as well as honey. Fascinating. That explains the strong and distinctive taste, but not the unpleasant stuff afterwards.

Quaff rating: This is an interesting case. The taste is strong and interesting, if not all that good. I think the boldness deserves recognition, so I'm giving it 3.5.
Cough rating: Here's where the unpleasant comes in, especially the aftertexture. 2.0.

K-i-C: "I don't have to drink the rest of this, do I?"

Five minutes later, I can still feel it.

*2116 Main St., in Julian. Say “Hi” for me.
** Seriously, she is. Adorable.

Napitki iz Chernogolovki Baikal

2011-05-03T12:26:00.000-07:00

My visit to the International Food Market resulted in my acquiring several Weird sodas (as well as an additional sample of a previous review, which we will revisit soon), but I must say I have been more pleased with the Chernogolovkian sodas than I expected. The Duchess (pear flavor) and cream sodas have been enjoyable, if not life-changing, experiences with surprisingly well-crafted Weirdness. Today, we will explore the third and last of the sodas from the Russian science town, a dark concoction named "Baikal".

Baikal, in a lovely artistic setting. Note the dignity. Note the balance. Note it! Note it, curse your eyes! Did you note it yet?

Baikal seems to be a dark brownish-red soda, not so different in color from any number of colas. It is only on further inspection that the Weirdness comes out.
First, let's look at the ingredients: after carbonated water and sugar, we have "taiga root and tea extracts". Fantastic--I believe we may be able to classify this under "Plant and Weed Based Weird Sodas" in our growing taxonomy. I'm a little afraid--previous experiences with tea-based sodas have been mixed--but I don't think I've ever had taiga root.

I did some looking into what Baikal might refer to. The most obvious candidate, given the lovely lakeside autumnal scene on the label, would be Lake Baikal. This is the deepest and largest freshwater lake in the world, holding--according to Wikipedia--twenty percent of the world's surface fresh water. At its deepest point, it is more than a mile deep, which for a freshwater lake is astonishing. It has its own unique native freshwater seal population. It will soon have a submerged neutrino telescope.
The hidden, dark depths, ancient geology involved in its formation, and weird advanced science going on there make it quite clear. That's no neutrino telescope. It's a human outpost watching a suspected entrance to a subterranean Deep One settlement, or maybe an opening to N'kai. I forget, can Nyogtha swim?*

Where and when: Purchased October 2010 from International Market, Vista, CA
Color: Dark brown, somewhat reddish with light shining through it.
Scent: LAT: "Lemony?"
Nazgul: "Lemony ginger."
LAT: "Yeah."

The herbal ancestry is prominent; it's somewhat reminiscent of Moxie, or Fentiman's cola. The lemon is also clear, intense but a bit distant, overwhelmed by the herbal/gingery.

Taste:
Nazgul: "It doesn't taste anything like it smells."
LAT: "Not sour. A little tangy."
Nazgul: "A little bit of chocolate."
LAT: "You know...a little. Maybe."

The initial taste is fairly dominated by the herbal taste, with the lemony flavor coming in from underneath. The taste is surprisingly moderate in strength, not overwhelming at all.

LAT: "I really like it. Do you like it, Nazgul?"
Nazgul (hissing ala Peter Jackson's nazgul): "Yeeesssssssss...."

It's lemonier than Moxie, with less of the "holy crud" strength of gentian root; whatever taiga root is, it's less off-putting. Over time, the tartness is coming out more strongly; it dominates the aftertaste, although there is a slight bitterness--a distinct third flavor--under the lemon and remaining herbal. It's not bad, just a faint, interesting taste.

I think this is my least favorite of the three Chernogolovkian sodas, although it's still pretty nice. I'd happily drink it again.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Surprisingly nice for a weed-flavored soda.
Cough rating: 0.5. The herbal flavor might be a bit too Weird for some, although it doesn't particularly bother me.

* We here at the Lab can find a way to work a Lovecraft reference into anything.

Napitki iz Chernogolovki Cream Soda

2011-04-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

In the last review, we at the lab enjoyed a nice Pear soda from a Russian town which is home to research in experimental mineralology and "physiologically active substances". The Weirdness potential of such a beverage is nearly off the scale*. What we got was a pleasant but not extremely Weird pear soda, which was nice. However, I expect more from crazed Russian scientists. I want a soda left over from Soviet-era research, which will turn me into some sort of hideous human-bear cyborg hybrid with tank treads, adamantium armor, and plasma-arc flamethrowers emerging from my shoulders, filled with a compulsion to roll into Washington DC and claim it in the name of the proletariat. Or something like that.

Well, here's another chance. From the same market, we also obtained a bottle of Napitki iz Chernogolovki ("Drinks from Chernogolovka", the aforementioned Russian research-oriented town) Cream Soda. The label depicts a glass of an amber beverage, along with a still-life-like raised plate with three spherical...objects. Perhaps rice balls or Sno-Cone components. One of them has an umbrella sticking out of it.

Chernogolovkian Cream Soda. Hideous squid-man, manta-man, and alien overlords (and Harry Potter) provided in an attempt to elicit transformative Weirdness powers from the soda.

Well, I suppose I could settle for being turned into a hideous human-rice ball cyborg hybrid, with...er...syrup-based armor...and umbrella-shaped flamethrowers...at a seaside resort?

Oh, heck. It's cream soda. It'll probably be good.

Where and when: Purchased October 2010 at International Market, Vista, CA
Color: Almost clear, just a hint of beige. The amber beverage on the label must be apple juice. Or lager. Or chardonnay, although the straw suggests otherwise. ***
Scent: To my surprise, this has a scent closer to the bourbon vanilla extract family, rather than the sweet French vanilla. A fair amount of bite in the scent, and a hint of complexity. Promising!
Taste: Quite a bit more tart than I expected. The initial taste is almost citrusy, but it fades after a few seconds into a well-balanced cream, sweet, and tart mix. The taste is more French vanilla than bourbon, but it's a nice example of type.
The tart is now fading, leaving surprisingly little aftertaste.

A second taste gives me an odd moment of metallic taste just when the initial tart is changing to the sweet, but it fades fast. Not sure what that was. It's a fairly nice cream soda, especially for the sweet type (I have a preference for the slightly ore bitter variety).

The aftertaste is a bit more tart this time, but not too bad.

I've been fairly impressed with the Napitki iz Chernogolovki drinks so far. I do have one more in the wings, which should prove interesting. And speaking of wings...aw, crud. No biomechanical appendages have sprouted from my shoulders. Not a hint of laser cannons in my forearms or palms. I see not augmented targeting overlay in my vision. How disappointing.

Quaff rating: 3.5. A surprisingly good cream soda.
Cough rating: 0.5. The tart aftertaste is still growing, and getting a bit less pleasant.

*The WOMBAT**

** Weird-o-Meter Beverage Analysis Technology

*** For a contrasting opinion on the appropriateness of straws for consumption of wine, see Frog, K.T. and Piggy, M. (1979) Consumption of Fermented Beverages via Cylindrical Devices. Journal of Muppet Science 12(5), pp. 612-615. Additional commentary can also be found in Martin, S. (1979) Use of Straws by Muppets of Questional Socioeconomic Provenance: Yes, I Anticipated That. Annals of Snootiness 16(325), pp. 12-18

Duchess Carbonated Soft Drink

2011-04-15T23:30:00.000-07:00

In the world of Weird Soda, there is an interesting dim, dusty corner--the Sodas Which Dare Not Speak Their Names. These are the ones whose names are neither descriptive nor--at least to the provincial rubes such as myself--well-known enough to need no description. (Coca-Cola, for example, is familiar enough that I don't need to speculate on its taste).
The other day*, while investigating an international market in Vista, I came across just such a coy bottle. It identified itself as "Duchess". The possibility of a Duchess-flavored soda being too tantalizing to be realistic, I had to investigate further.

This one, however, doesn't play too hard-to-get. Beneath the "Duchess" appelation is a picture of pears.

Duchess here at the lab. Ultrafine tweezers, breadboard, and multimeter added for scientific credibility.

Unless this is a clever scheme to lull the imbiber into a false sense of security, and then spring an unsuspected and breathtaking flavor upon his or her unprepared palate**, it seems safe to assume that this beverage will be pear-flavored. Now, personally, I like pears. One of my favorite sodas (the Sweet Blossom Elderflower) was reminiscent of a pear cream soda. I still have memories of that one which make be break out in a light sweat...

Er. Yes. Duchess. Anyway, pears. Good.

Well, this might be nice. I should further note that there is additional text on the bottle, but alas, it is unintelligibe to me. High on the bottle is a label which bears the inscription "Napitki IZ Chernogolovki", which seems Slavic. Come, let us consult the Google.

I put in the text and request an Armenian to English translation.
No luck.
Okay...let's try Russian to English.
No luck again...but interestingly, it makes a suggestion. "Did you mean Напитки ИЗ Черноголовки?"

Um...I'm not sure. Did I? Sure.
*click*
"Drinks from Chernogolovka".

Well, that seems like a likely possibility. And lo, further investigation reveals that Chernogolovka is, in fact, a small Russian town not far from Moscow.
Which--ah, what joy!--is a major center of Russian science, and houses research institutes in chemistry, physics, "physiologically active compounds", and experimental mineralogy.

Awesome.

Wikipedia also confirms that this town is home to several beverage manufacturers, including Napitki iz Chernogolovki.

Where and when: purchased October 2010 at the International Food Company, Vista, CA

Color: Pale yellow. Maybe slightly oily-looking?
Scent: Hmmm. Maybe slightly pear-ish, but floral more than anything. A very sweet scent, like gum, with a pleasant fruity note.
Taste: Surprisingly complex. Here's what happens: We begin with a cool, ever-so-slightly minty smooth flowerish sweet flavor. Pearlike flavors are present, but competing with a strong sugary tone. Slightly heady, oddly liquorlike feeling.
This is followed by the development of some acidity, which actually makes it more pearlike.
The acidity fades, and there is finally a sense of fruit and flowers, with a strong candy-like feeling. It's sort of the soda version of a pear Jolly Rancher.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Pleasant and pearlike.
Cough rating: 0.5. The acidity is undesirable.

* A phrase which here means "a day which is not the current day", and can refer to any day or days within the last two years. The common usage of the phrase to refer to a day within the last few days is far too limiting.
**Sort of like Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beverage, or something. "Argh! Jalapeno!"

Gettin' Cool Strawberry Soda

2011-03-30T23:07:00.000-07:00

The Lab recently hosted an event in which some of our junior researchers joined their colleagues in a pseudo-historical reenactment scenario, facilitated by semi-randomized stochastic generation of personality proxies in a constructed-reality interactive discourse*.
The mother of one of these colleagues (who has asked that she be identified by the alias ChopChop), knowing of my core research interests, brought over a variety of Asian Weirdness for sampling. She and I did a joint investigation of two of the examples (which will be posted soon), but she was kind enough to leave the rest for later consideration. Tonight, I'll be trying Gettin' Cool Strawberry Soda.

Gettin' Cool also makes a melon flavor (I'll have to do that one). While there's nothing all that Weird about strawberry soda, the name "Gettin' Cool" provides a certain undeniable Weirdness. It also comes in the unusual torpedo-shaped screw-top metal bottle, which I have only seen in Japanese sodas.

The small clay head is not necessary for Weirdness, but I think it does make a useful contribution.

Where and when: donated by ChopChop, March 2011
Color: I was expecting a frighteningly oversaturated red, but it's actually a pleasant pale peach-orange.
Scent: Fruity, slightly tart, quite strawberry-ish. Actually not far from the scent of ripe strawberries, which is a very pleasant surprise.
Taste: The initial taste is cool in the mouth, and has a berryish flavor, but sweeter than actual fruit--more of a mixed-berry preserves feel. The taste of strawberry is there, but it's as if there were also some raspberries and blackberries thrown in. It's very nice; I'm enjoying it a lot. Refreshing, pleasant, and not too far from real strawberry. A fine fruit soda.
A few seconds later, a tartness begins to creep in at the edges. You think, "Ah, yes, here it comes. It was inevitable, I suppose, that an acrid, acidic, hideous hell-taste of corn syrup aftertaste would make itself known. Come on in, make yourself at home. No, I'm not busy, I was just enjoying this unexpectedly berry-like strawberry soda, thinking it might be something special, and then you had to come right along, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU? Well, I can't say I'm surprised."
But then you really are surprised, because that taste never develops into the full flower of acidity which you've experienced so many times before. Instead, the tartness just sort of...hovers. It lingers, unwilling to come into the light. The acid aftertaste skulks around in the shadows at the edge of the room like a Quaffmaster at an eighth-grade dance, desperate for attention--affection--the smallest drop of feminine interest, yet knowing that such is not to be his. This tartness just drifts around, lingering by the snack table and desultorily snitching Chee-tos from the bowl, unhappy eyes on the whirl of gaiety, frivolity, and la-di-dah merrymaking occurring out there in the light, watching the cool people doing their dances and engaging in witty eighth-grade repartee**. This acid aftertaste can't quite get up the courage to step out and be itself, to say "Here I am, behold me!" Instead, it'll just grab another handful of M&Ms.

Yes, this aftertaste doesn't quite come forward and grab the spotlight, it just sits there and makes sure you know it hasn't gone away.

This is not entirely a bad thing; the main flavor is quite nice, a lovely berry flavor, almost like real strawberries, and the absence of excessive acid is welcome. However, I can't help but notice that, ten minutes after the taste, it's still there. The dance is over, kid. She left with that guy in the turtleneck, who actually knows how to dance and doesn't watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail as religiously as you do. Better luck next time. Now go home.***

Quaff rating: 3.5. Pretty nice--surprisingly so. One of the better strawberry sodas I've had.
Cough rating: 0.5; the persistent acid is the only problem. It's still there, by the way.

*Also known as the Pathfinder role-playing game. This area of interest may, just may, be related to some of the other issues which came up in this review.
** "You ask her!" "No, YOU ask her!" "No, YOU!" *giggle giggle burp*
*** I actually did get to dance with her, and even asked her to "go with me", which was quite the thing in eighth grade. A week later, she broke up with me, and published what amounted to a public denial of responsibility for the whole episode in the yearbook.

Guest Review: Inca Cola

2011-03-29T01:10:00.000-07:00

I am thrilled to relay to you a guest review from a reader who identifies himself as "The Doc". Apparently, The Doc went out and got himself a sample of something called Inca Cola. Here it is, presented with no edits (as it is pretty freakin' splendid as-is): What's up, Doc?

---BEGIN GUEST REVIEW HERE---
Widely recognized as the national soft drink of Peru, Inca Cola bills itself intermittently as "The Flavor of Peru," which suggests it tastes like human sacrifice, and this is doubly weird given that it was actually created by a British expat in 1935. Therefore, I am eminently certain this will be suitable as a Guest Review of a Weird Soda. However, I think the best summation was an shorter-lived slogan, "there is only one and Peru knows why" (we presume that the executive who came up with that was, indeed, executed), and we'll get to that. It is now distributed by Coca-Cola, who bought it out. For the purposes of this review, I (ab)used my staff members, who are eager to try anything as long as someone else is buying.

Where and when: Last week sometime. You can find it at many specialty grocers; I got this at a Latino supermarket near my office. (We also got Malta Hatuey there. One particularly articulate staff member described it as similar to the fermented prune beverage her mother makes [not kindly] with a note of molasses. This seems congruent with your previous review.)

Color: The beverage is yellow like serum, but this is to be expected given the murderous ritualistic name. Actually, it's yellow like radioactive serum, as if the master of ceremonies had plunged his knife into uranium yellowcake and then into his victim. It is, however, mercifully clear.

Smell: Inca Cola is ostensibly based on lemon verbena, and you can get the lemon note immediately, but a stronger and more dominant note is bubble gum. All the staff agreed it smelled like that, as if someone had taken a bottle of Crystal Light and spilled it on a pack of Bazooka. It is quite strong if you're not expecting it -- not unpleasant, but intense.

Taste: The smell is not deceiving: it tastes pretty much as it smelled. The initial lemon taste is immediately walloped by a Juicy Fruit-like flavor, and this then sort of erodes back into the lemon which has itself eroded into a decrepit bitter citron. It's sort of like being mugged after the mugger offers you a Sprite: the initial taste is nice, then you get clonked over the head, your wallet is taken (in this case around $3 for the sixpack) and waking up you're still reeling from the whacking with the taste of the Sprite getting bitter in your stomach and on your tongue. In small quantities it is actually not un-refreshing, and certainly perks you up, but when quaffed in full vigour will probably just give you heartburn after you finish gasping from the taste assault.

Quaff rating: 3, if sipped. 2, if consumed recklessly. If sipped, it's rather nice. Otherwise, find some Pepcid and some ice for your head.
Cough rating: Similarly, 1, if sipped. 2, if consumed recklessly. You will probably literally cough at that point.

I can see why there is only one taste of Peru. I do keep some in my fridge for when I need something to perk me up, but that's about the only use I have for it.

---END GUEST REVIEW---

I have nothing to add, except that I am kind of choked up. That was beautiful. Beautiful.

Thanks, Doc!

Ooba Kiwi

2011-02-22T12:04:00.000-08:00

I've reviewed a few Ooba beverages before, and been pretty impressed with them in general. The hibiscus extract seems to blend nicely with the various additional flavorings they use, and the outcome is a well-balanced, not-too-sweet, vaguely tea-ish soda. Thus, when I saw Ooba Hibiscus with Kiwi at Sprouts Market the other day (along with the first Oogave I've seen sold retail!), I was excited to bring some back to the Lab.

When I got back to the Lab, I found that Ooba is good for something else as well. One of my favorite things about being married is the constant discovery of new things about my wife, the Kibbitzer-in-Chief. While her intelligence and insight are well-known to me, the emergence of hidden facets of personality is wondrous and very rewarding.

In this case, I discovered that the name "Ooba" evokes different associations in each of us. For her, it brings to mind the rabbit she had as a child named "Uba". That rabbit was named Uba because it was the offspring of a rabbit which had been badly injured, losing an ear and part of two legs. That rabbit was named "Creb", after the disfigured, crippled shaman of the Neanderthal Clan of Jean Auel's Clan of the Cave Bear.*
The nice thing about learning this was that it reinforced my dear love's amazing literary geekiness, which is an extremely endearing quality.
For me, on the other hand, I immediately heard the following in my head:

Ooba, Ooba, Doobity doo!
I've got an icky soda for you.
Ooba, Ooba, Doobity dee.
If you are wise, you'll treat it like pee.

...and now it's stuck in your head, too. Ha ha ha!

Where and when: Purchased February 2011 at Sprouts Market, San Marcos, CA
Color: Deep red, very slightly purple. Almost wine-ish.
The surface tension of the water causes it to creep very slightly up the sides of the container at the top, causing a curved surface...a "hibiscus meniscus", if you will**.
Scent: Wow, not what I expected at all. It's quite sweet and very floral, with little or none of the tartness I associate with kiwi.
Nazgul: "It doesn't smell bad, but not good, either.
I like it well enough, but it's deeper and darker than I was expecting.
Taste: The hibiscus is strong--that nice, mellow sweet-underlaid-with-tart you get from hibiscus. The kiwi part is quite faint; I taste it more as an enhancement of the natural hibiscus tartness than an additional flavor of its own, although I guess I'd need a pure hibiscus version for comparison to be sure.
It's nice. A pleasant fruitiness, with some interesting aftertaste...ah. There it is, the aftertaste suddenly shifts to a very tart note, which then (oddly) goes away again. The aftertaste is complex, a blend of tart and ever so slightly bitter, again like tea.
This is still one of the more refreshing sodas I know; this would be great on a hot day.

Ooba, Ooba, Drinkity drink
This is one you won't pour down the sink
Ooba, Ooba, Quaffity quaff
Still, I would not mix it up with Smirnoff.***

Quaff rating: 3.5. Pretty yummy.
Cough rating: 0.5. The tartness and slight bitterness are just a bit surprising.

* In the book (which is excellent), Creb and Iza are siblings, and Uba is Iza's daughter, which makes Uba Creb's niece. Thus, the relationship between the Creb and Uba in the book doesn't quite match the relationship between the K-i-C's rabbits. On the other hand, Ayla (Iza's adopted Cro-Magnon daughter) does temporarily care for an injured bunny in the book, which she calls her "Uba-bunny". Now you know.

** Yes, I know that a meniscus will appear in any container of watery liquid, at least one in which the material is even a little hydrophilic. It was just an excuse to say "hibiscus meniscus". As was this footnote.

*** Alternative ending: "Probably bad with beef stroganoff"

Carousel Black Cherry Gourmet Soda

2011-02-20T16:06:00.000-08:00

All right, I have a problem. The Weird Soda storage facility at the Lab is approaching full capacity. There's too much Weirdness stuffed into this lab.
...well, all right, there's really always been too much Weirdness in the Lab. What I mean is that the carbonoisolation cryosuspension chamber* is almost full.
What's that? You want to know what would happen if it ever reached full capacity?

Do you remember that scene in Ghostbusters, when Peck has the gentleman from the utility company shut down the containment field on the ghost suspension facility, and there is a catastrophic explosion in which all manner of otherworldly badness is released, causing havoc all over the city?

Kind of like that, except fizzier.

Anyway, there's really only one release valve for the pressure buildup in the Lab, and that's to get quaffing. Today, we'll be reviewing something which isn't from a bottler I know. Carousel Black Cherry Gourmet Soda is bottled by Carousel Beverages, in Arlington Heights, IL. Or so says the label.

A brief internet search reveals that, as far as I can tell, there *is* no such beverage bottler in Arlington Heights. There is a Carousel Beverages in New York, which seems to supply (but not bottle) beer and soda. A Google search for "Carousel gourmet soda" returns several returns for places where it can be bought, but nothing on the bottler.
Perhaps we need a new category for "Orphaned Sodas", cases in which there appears to be no bottling agency extant.
This also produces an interesting feeling, knowing that I'm going to quaff something of no parentage, whose origins are unknown and unknowable. It is an isolated soda, adrift in time, without context. Whence came this bottle? From what nighted gulfs did it arise? What dark factory produced this container of dark red, bubbly fluid, sitting on my tabletop in a hideous mockery of normality? What unspeakable secrets might be unearthed if its TRUE origins were ever revealed? What daemoniacal, cyclopean horrors would we witness of its true provenance, its nameless and blasphemous source, were ever revealed? Could this soda be the offspring of the whispered Abhoth, the Fount of Uncleanness, who bubbles and oozes in his lightless caverns and whose existence is only known through half-crazed, suppressed scribblings of the madmen who have returned, broken and maimed, from the curiously carven balcony which overlooks the nethermost pit?

Never before has the lack of a website held such eldritch significance.

Another point of note: the ingredients list is unsettlingly vague. The second ingredient is "sugar and/or corn sweetener". Er...they weren't sure? Was it a situation where they decided it wasn't sweet enough and just decided to pour in some of Vat #2? ("It's sweet, right?" "Yeah." "Then dump it in!" "What is it?" "Who cares?")

Where found: I think I found this one at BevMo.
Color: A deep red, slightly orange-y, very transparent.
Scent: Very candy-ish cherry. Similar to the smell of cherry syrup or Grenadine, reminds me of Jujyfruits. Pleasant, but worrisome.
Taste: Amazingly, a little less sweet than I would have guessed. The taste is pure black cherry syrup--not the bright red cherry of cherry Popsicles (*sigh*), but rather the slightly darker, more berry-ish black cherry taste of Baskin-Robbins Cherries Jubilee ice cream.
That pleasant initial taste fades surprisingly quickly, with the familiar acid aftertaste drifting in. For something which smells as strongly sweet as this, the taste is surprisingly weak.
The taste is quite similar to the cherry-flavored jelly candies you can sometimes find around Valentine's Day.

Not so bad--the cherry flavor is actually surprisingly pleasant. The aftertaste, though, is oddly similar to slightly burned Doritos. That' not such a good thing, even though it reminds me of nachos. Which are good.

Quaff rating: 3.0. The cherry flavor is one of the nicer ones, at first. It's a bit quick-fading, though, and replaced by...
Cough rating: 1.0. ...burned cornmeal and then silence.

* Under the bench in the kitchen

Weird Soda Review at the LA Weekly

2011-02-08T17:06:00.000-08:00

I was doing the usual diligent scouring of weird soda scholarly journals the other day, attempting to keep up with this fast-paced, rapidly evolving research field, when I found myself looking at the Weird Soda Review.

You might ask what struck me as odd about that. You might, in fact, suspect that I had inadvertently clicked on a link to my own website, and was even now marveling at the supple, mellifluous prose penned by this demigod of beverage review who called himself "Quaffmaster". You might expect a subsequent post in which I would use words like "mellifluous".

I can say with some confidence* that I have never accidentally looked at my own blog and thought it was written by someone else. Weird soda has lots of interesting effects, but that level of intoxication is not usually one of them.

In fact, I had stumbled across a column at the LA Weekly entitled "Weird Soda Review", written by Elina Shatkin. It's good stuff. Her writing is witty, and she has excellent taste in Weird soda.

So I wanted to post this for two reasons:

Reason the First: You should check out her writing. As an example, go here to see her review of Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray tonic (which was one of our first reviews, too!)

Reason the Second: Just to clarify, this blog and that column are unrelated. I don't know Ms. Shatkin, but I wish her all the best, and happily welcome her to the League of Soda Weirdness.

* p<0.3. "Some" covers a lot of ground.

Pokka Aloe-V (with blueberry)

2011-01-28T20:55:00.000-08:00

Cryptonaut, the brother-in-law of DigDoug, is a well-seasoned traveler. He speaks about six languages, and has been just about everywhere, and so is possessed of a great variety of good stories. He's seen things we wouldn't believe...attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion...
Er. He's seen a lot. So when he came by tonight and told me that he had a soda for me, I was very excited. This had the potential to be Weirdness of the highest order. What strange, dark corners of the world had this man scoured to find this? In what scummed alley, lit dimly by light reflected by windows in towering corporate arcologies, had he haggled with curiously-robed figures for it? What secrets had he been privy to?

He produced a can of Pokka Aloe-V. It has an attractive purple and green color scheme on a white background, and claims to be an "aloe vera juice drink with pulp bits".
Pulp bits?
Apparently, this one also includes blueberry juice. That's always good.

The real joy of this can only becomes apparent when you turn it around, though. On the back, there is information printed in:
English
Spanish
French
Russian
Hungarian
Latvian
Arabic
It is also, according to the icons rinted there, ISO 9001 compliant. It's good to know this soda has some standards.

Based on the label, this seems to fall under the "bits of gel floating around" soda family (I'm going to have to update the Venn diagram). I've enjoyed those somewhat before, and I have no objection to Aloe. So: sincere thanks to Cryptonaut for his generous donation, and let's quaff this thing.

Joining us for this review are DigDoug, Cryptonaut, and Gointotrance.

Where and when: Purchased by Cryptonaut, Marukai Asian Market, San Diego, CA
Color: Very pale purple-orange, almost transparent, with transparent flakes of something, presumably aloe. Possibly dinosaur scales. With the slight ridges, they look like shavings of thumb epidermis.
Gointotrance: "I'm going with adult, full-grown Sea Monkeys."
Cryptonaut: "Small jellyfish impaled with cedar slivers. Jellyfish in a sandstorm."
Gointotrance: "Oh, they've started to float."
Cryptonaut: "They've grown spines. They're evolving quickly!"
DigDoug: "Looks kind of like the bottom of a spring-thaw pond."

Good to know: gel-based sodas are somewhat aversive to many.

Scent: Very strong. Sweet, with a moderately strong citrus. The berry is there. Very fragrant, aromatic.
GIT: "I've got Bubble Yum and Fresca."
Cryptonaut: "Like a gum scent, you're right."

Juicy Fruit also gains significant consensus as being similar to this scent.

Taste: The texture is very odd. The flakes are thicker than I was expecting. They're not thin; they have substance. Sort of like squishy big grains of rice.
Cryptonaut: "Gelatin shrapnel."
Gointotrance: "I'm going to be honest. I didn't let the gelatin shrapnel into my mouth, and I'm not going to. Does that make me a coward?"

The taste--leaving the texture aside--is fairly nice. It's surprisingly citrusy, and the blueberry provides a nice, mellow feel. It's very sweet.

Gointotrance, after tasting: "I'm diabetic. Should I worry?"
DigDoug: "I like it better than the tarragon soda."

It's fairly refreshing, but probably overly sweet, and very strange in texture. Based on the number of languages on the can, it must be popular around the world; perhaps the disconnect between gel-appreciating and non-gel-appreciating cultures can be part of future diplomacy.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Nice flavor, enjoyable.
Cough rating: 1.5. It's hard to get past slimy nodules sliding down your throat.

Czar Foods Tarkhun (Tarragon) Soda

2011-01-28T19:24:00.000-08:00

It's a party at the Weird Soda Review Labs!

We have a number of guests here tonight, including (I can say with great joy) a horticulturalist friend of mine, who shall be known as DigDoug. Also present are Gointotrance (who has been here before), his partner Purpleatrix, Neighsayer, and Cryptonaut (DigDoug's brother-in-law, a linguist, world traveler, and Web designer). We've been celebrating Nazgul's birthday party with much merriment, and Cryptonaut extremely generously presented the Lab with a Malaysian blueberry-aloe soda which I've never seen before. More on that in the next review.

While we have DigDoug here, though, I've been meaning to get his help in reviewing one of the rare group of herb or weed-based sodas. Ben Shaws Dandelion and Burdock is one example, but I was delighted to find another recently. While perusing a local Armenian market, I was delighted to find a bottle of bright green soda labeled "Tarragon". Now, cumin is my very favorite spice. I like cumin in almost anything*. Tarragon isn't in my top ten, except on fish. But--and this is the most important part--as soda flavorings go, it's definitely Weird. How could I pass this up?

Where and when: Purchased at the Armenian market.
Color: A remarkable, deep emerald green, almost bluish. It's sort of like Green River, but more saturated, if anything.
DigDoug: "What's that old time soda? Rock phosphate green."
Gointotrance: "It's a green only found in those stretchy Coke bottles from carnivals when you were a kid."
DigDoug: "Totally."
Purpleatrix: "It's the color of your pee when you start taking your vitamins. Well, almost."

Scent: It has a sweet smell, with a strong bitter/herbal element.
DigDoug: "Remember that paste, like the glue-paste in elementary school?"
Gointotrance: "To me, it smells like children's cough syrup."

Taste:
That's...odd. It's sweet, but the sweet is accompanied by an odd, heady, musky/herbal/bitter taste.
DigDoug: "Thin and punchy."
Gointotrance: "It's got a cream soda aftertaste, after a while."
It does, a very delayed vanilla taste.
Neighsayer:"You know what? I like it." sounding astonished. "Of course, my nose is partially stuffed right now, so I have some level of protection."
Cryptonaut: "Tastes like licorice that's been left out in the rain."
Gointotrance: "The first taste was kind of that diet cough medicine flavor. Then there was a middle taste, which kind of made me *clears throat* a bit, I didn't enjoy the middle taste at all. Then there was the cream soda aftertaste. Of course, I like licorice left in the rain."
Digdoug: "Kind of a rehydrated play-doh flavor. You know, it's got that salty-sweet flavor in there."
Cryptonaut: "Reconstituted play-doh."
Is that a good thing or a bad thing?
DigDoug: "Well, it brings back a lot of elementary school memories."
Gointotrance: "This seems to be bringing back almost exclusively memories from our childhood."

I think I taste a bit of cantaloupe. And yes, I think there's a bit of tarragon.

Gointotrance: "Even though it's green, it tastes pink."

It's actually pretty good, once you get past the slightly bitter/musky tone. It's pleasant, coolly sweet, and reasonably smooth.

Apparently (Cryptonaut is doing some research), this is a Soviet drink which was flavored either with tarragon or woodruff. He has also discovered that woodruff is also known as "wild baby's breath" and "master of the woods".

Apparently, woodruff is not convincing to Gointotrance.
Gointotrance: "I'm not drinking much more. Tastes like dandruff."

Quaff rating: 2.5. I would probably have given it a 3, but the general opinion of the others present is less charitable.
Cough rating: 1.5. The herbal taste is very...distinctive.

*The main exception was the experimental vanilla-cumin cream cheese. Oh God.

Manhattan Special Espresso Coffee Soda

2011-01-09T20:53:00.000-08:00

There's a gathering at the Lab tonight. Not only are the Kibbitzer-in-Chief's parents (Punctilius and Cilious) here, but my own parents--the Quaffmaster and Quaffmistress Seniors, the ones whose Shasta-buying habits set me on the road to where I am today--are visiting from their secret hideout in Topeka. RoTalMomska and RoTalPopska (suitable for the soda atmosphere) have not exactly volunteered for this review, but the restraints should allow them enough freedom of movement to participate.

This one was donated by the Mysterious Stranger. I was very happy to see it; I had feared that the Stranger had abandoned us. Had I not sufficiently expressed my gratitude? I'm not sure how to contact this individual, so all I can do is post, here in this public* place, my sincere thanks.

I have a confession to make. I don't like coffee.
Well, that's not exactly correct. I love the smell of coffee, and from my very limited experiences with it, I suspect I could develop a taste for it. However, I've observed what coffee has done to some of those close to me. I've observed their quivering husks, more or less undead, incapable of coherent speech or coordinated movement until they receive their morning coffee dosage. I won't go down that road!

Compared to some of what we've dealt with here, coffee soda should be positively ambrosial. However, my own ability to assess its coffee-ness will be limited. Fortunately, most of our other visitors are coffee consumers. Cilious, in particular, has had much to say on the proper making of coffee. Thus, we are fortunate that they are here to properly review this Weirdness.

Where and when: Donated by the Mysterious Stranger
Color: Very dark brown, almost opaque. Fizzy. Like unto a misty fen.
Scent: The coffee-ish smell is there, underlaid with a faint sweetness. There's a third smell, too, which comes just after the coffee. It's bitter and makes my teeth hurt. I'm not sure why.
RTM: "Eeewww. That's weird."
Nazgul: "Coffeeeee!"
LAT: "Smells like coffee."
Punctilius: "I'd say coffee on a binge."
K-i-C: "I was going to say smells like washing the coffee pot."
RTP: "I was...unimpressed."

Taste: The initial taste is quite sweet, fairly tart--almost citrusy. The coffee comes in shortly thereafter. It's bitter, but not unpleasantly so. Actually, it's kind of nice.
It's rather a lot like the Abbondio Chinotto, actually, although that had a stronger bitter/sour flavor.

This is--to my surprise--quite enjoyable.

Punctilius: "*Sparkling* coffee on a binge."
Cilious: "Now that I've tasted it, I can smell the coffee. It's not unattractive. I dont think I'd buy it."
RTP: "It tastes like my impression of coffee grounds. Cowboy coffee."
Cilious: "Cofee was quite a luxury in the old west, wasn't it?"

This leads into an extensive discussion of the nature of coffee. Whether cowboys were capable of obtaining coffee, how it would have been made, its impact on cattle drives, burlap, and other such topics are explored.

RTM: "It's got the same kind of aftertaste as coffee does." This is spoken with a not-entirely-approving expression.

Me "So this is a fairly authentic coffee experience?"
General assent.

This is a crowd which enjoys conversation, and it's been all I could do to keep them focused on soda for as long as I did. The conversation has moved on, and is currently careening past employment experiences involving coffee, relative caffeine intake, and dog adoptions. Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Marshall Plan are likely to come up soon, and so it's probably best to draw a curtain over the quaffing portion of the evening.

I do like this family.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Surprisingly enjoyable, although not really remarkable, except in as much as it is not awful.
Cough rating: 0.5. I don't like coffee.

*It's still public even if nobody is there.

Briar's Premium Lemon Cream

2011-01-04T13:01:00.000-08:00

We at the Lab hope that all of you have had a splendid beginning of 2011.
Nazgul (nee Wyvern, nee(2) JAT) and the LAT and I have had a good time so far discussing the nature of the calendar: why we number this year 2011, what other calendar systems exist, and how they have changed (the shift from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar was especially interesting; did you know ten days vanished from our count of time?)

In any case, we're going to attempt to keep up with our review schedule a little more this year. There are several driving forces behind this resolution: first, to Quaff is a deeply enjoyable experience, and exploring Weirdness is my calling. Second, if I don't work through some of the backlog of soda in the Lab vault*, the Kibbitzer-in-Chief will probably start the Weird Soda Reviewer Internal Organ Review**.

So today we'll take something I've never seen before. I came across this at a nameless, immemorial southern California store, lurking on a shelf, clustered with others of its kind. It...called to me.

I walked back and forth along the endless aisles, moving through the store as if to escape a clinging film of beverage ennui. As my wanderings became more frantic, the names and logos began to reverberate in my brain. Commonplace logos trembled and shivered behind my eyelids, resonating at the frequency of mass marketing. I felt my mind and spirit congealing like cooling bacon grease, losing their effervescence as I began to despair at finding novelty in an increasingly stale world. The sky, leaden and heavy with rain, seemed to mock me. "Water," it shrieked, "only water shall I offer you! Water with no flavor, no texture, water to dissolve the fibers of your interest and quench the flame of your esprit de quaff!"

And then a glimmer of gold, like a lost doubloon in a murky sea of hamster burpings. From a distant shelf it whispered, beckoned, summoned. "You've never had me...I know what you seek...come...come to me..."

I found it there, under that sky which promised only the endless deluge of gray and the reflection of headlights on a sodden street.

What was this strange cylinder which promised a relief from the monotony, the tedium? What did the three stars on its label portend? Whence its claim of "Premium"? With curiosity, the long-absent sparrow of my psyche, beginning to flutter, I handled the bottle gently. I sought answers, questing for a grain of truth in the bushel of lies and misdirection which was all I had found in the world. Surely, somewhere on this bottle I could find the key to the persistent questions which had kept me awake on all those nights when nothing could soothe me. How anyone could know what endless gulfs I had contemplated, when those hours lay between me and the false solace of sunrise, I would never know. And yet, somehow, I felt as thoug here I might uncover a clue, like the missing Lego from the Beta-1 Command Base I had as a naive child, to lead me to...salvation?
No, there would be no salvation for one such as I. But solace, and calmness to face my inevitable end.

I turned the bottle carefully. Perhaps there would be a list of ingredients, a catalogue of the components of the mixture (if there can be an enumeration of the elements of tedium, oppression, and release). But there was no label on the back. There would be no ational breakdown, no scientific atomization of this beverage; it wad to be understood holisticlly, in a single experience, or not at all. I, who had spent my years in a futile effort to bring a rational, analytical mind to grips with a universe which seemed determined to confound and confuse such approaches, felt the absence of ingredients as a blow to my very core. Was this bottle conforming the essentially incomprehensibility of the world and the futility of life?

As my fingers skidded fruitlessly over the glass of the enclosure, failing to find secure purchase on this increasingly labored symbolic representation of the utter meaninglessness of existence, I also noticed that there were no bottle bumps. Even those cryptically coded signals, linking the cages imprisoning sodas (or perhaps protecting them) to the lace of their creation, were absent. This bottle stood untethered to any reference, a single, solipsistic figure. It had no beginning, no tie to any parent or God. It was, like me, eternally alone. As I gazed at it, my mind weighed the possibilities suggested by this bottle. Did it suggest that each of us, as a separate being with no possible permanent or meaningful connection to past or future, was inherently doomed to an existence without effect? That each of us was a point both fixed and unfixed, with no reference and no way of measuring its progress from here to there, or then to now?

The scream built within me, but I pressed it down with habits of self repression gained after an infinity of pre-dawn mornings of horror and loneliness, staring into the ashes of a dead fire in which I had burned love letters I had written to myself to extend the illusion of love and acceptance which was all which separated me from utter annihilation.

The bottle bore the words "Est. 1937" like a sigil of doom. Was this soda mocking me, whose relative youth could not allow him to have seen such a fabled year? I, who was born decades after that date, yet who had lived countless millenia of existential grief, I held the bottle in trembling fingers. I would not be mocked by this false carbonated prophet! I raised the bottle over my head, ready to dash it to the floor, shattering it and my dreams of redemption in one blow.
"Begone, fiend! Begone, tempter! You shall beguile me NO MORE!"

"You have to pay for that."
The words, spoken in a simple, unadorned voice, pierced my mind. All of existence froze, the cyclopean millstone of fate which so relentlessly worked to grind the grain of my ambition into the powdery flour of uselessness, to be baked into the bread of futility and spread with the mayonnaise of boredom came to a shuddering halt.

I had to pay for it.

Yes.

It was not the bottle alone which held the truth. The bottle...and the voice. The voice, which transubstantiated the bottle, brought my life--a careening, futile conglomeration of sharp angles and contempt--into sudden perfect alignment. The Rubik's Cube of my spirit, which had never had more than five squares of the same color on any side, suddenly became a cube of unified, brilliant hues, each face a pure, Platonic aspect of emotion and thought.

I had to pay for it.

I had to pay for ALL of it.

And I would.

I left the store and bought a puppy.

Figure 1: Damnation or salvation. I was so overcome by existential despair and the futility of life that I forgot to take the picture until we had consumed most of the soda. Note the apples of ennui.

Where and when: I honestly don't remember.
Color: A very hazy clear, much like lemonade. Maybe slightly yellowish, but pretty much whitish and slightly translucent.
Scent: Sweet--very sweet. The lemon is tart, but almost syrupy--it smells like lemon bar cookies.
Nazgul: "Actually, it smells more like lemon honey."
The LAT concurs.
Taste: If you were to make a soda out of Girl Scout Lemon Cooler cookies, it would taste something like this. It's strong on the sweet and creamy part, very sweet. Has a nice coolness, and the lemon is tart but mild.
The first thing that comes to mind is store-bought lemon meringue pie, except without the crust or meringue. The cream is a bit vanilla-y, but in the sweet vanilla way (like french vanilla ice cream, rather than vanilla extract). The lemon begins as a cool, slightly tart, quite pleasant lemony flavor on top of the sweetness, then develops a little more tartness. It's still nice.
Carbonation is unusually light, which gives it a slightly watery feeling, but I don't mind it. It's actually probably better that way--it's so sweet that it would be too syrupy without it.

I like it pretty well, actually, although not quite as much as Nazgul and the LAT, who are commenting on how good it is.
LAT: "Lemon cream honey. That's probably why it's called lemon cream. I like it."
NAzgul: "Lemon honey!"

Imagine a flavor consisting of lemon bar and lemon cooler cookies, add a bit of french vanilla ice cream, and just a dash of lemonade, and you'll be there.

Quaff rating: 3.0. A little nicer than average. Quite pleasant. Does not crush the soul under the vast mountainous burden of existence.
Cough rating: 1.0. Really a bit too sweet, and the aftertaste (which only now begins to creep up) is sour and a bit bitter.

* That being under the bench at the kitchen table, plus a corner of the garage.
** Starting with the spleen.

Reed's Original Ginger Brew

2010-12-28T17:59:00.000-08:00

The Lab has visitors tonight. We are very lucky, in that we have made a bunch of really interesting friends (As it turns out, being a scientist/musician/historian/weird-soda-quaffing family tends to put you in contact with a variety of interesting people). One of our guests happens to be fond of a certain Weird soda which we have not yet reviewed--the Reed's family of ginger-based beverages. This friend (who shall be known as Gointotrance) was generous enough to bring some tonight, so we'll be reviewing the core of the family, the Reed's Original Ginger Brew.

Reed's has a reputation for being a strong ginger soda. Afficionados of Reeds typically view other ginger ales (e.g. Canada Dry, Schweppes) with amused contempt. Ginger is fine with me, and I'm fond of regular ginger ales, so I'm looking forward to the experience.

Where and when: Purchased December 2010 at Frazier Farms, Vista, CA
Color: Light brown, close--very close--to yellow. In fact, I'd call it yellow, but that's just me.
Gointotrance: "Probably from the honey? Pineapple juice and honey, that's certainly going to add to the yellow color. There's also lemon and lime juices."
I agree.
Gointotrance: "Unlike my sodas, it's got very fine bubbles which have decided to cling to the bottom and sides. Look, the bubbles have congregated there like little see-through caviar eggs."
Scent: Fairly strong ginger, kind of lemony. Not all that sweet. The sour is strong, a touch of bitter.
Gointotrance: "You can smell the stickiness. Can something smell sticky? There's a kinesthetic-olfactory synaesthesia there."
This blog has just become quite a bit more credible by having that terminology appear, I think.
Taste: Hmm. Pretty tart, the lemon juice is prominent. The ginger has a strong but not overwhelming bite. It's sweet. There's complexity here, but I'm a little surprised that the ginger isn't stronger.
Gointotrance: "Put some on your tongue and let it sit there."
Ah. *pause* Yep. There's some sting.
Gointotrance: "Mind you, this is not the extra-strength one."

The sweetness doesn't come across in the smell, so it's a bit surprising. It's actually quite sweet, but not the corn-syrup sort--it's a more mellow sweetness. Not surprising, given the honey-pineapple sweetener.

The ginger is hitting me more now. Let's try the Kibbitzer on this.

K-i-C: "It's nice. It's probably the pineapple juice, but it's kind of like cider."

The cider is an interesting comment. I think I see what she's saying.
This is much more complex and interesting than I would have guessed.

Gointotrance, having his own carbonation setup, is looking into custom soda. He has an idea for a tomato-garlic-ginger-Worcestershire sauce carbonated beverage. The mind boggles. The stomach clenches. I can't wait. This is very exciting to me--what could be Weirder than that which emerges from the depths of personal Weirdness? What Weirdness lurks in the hearts of men?
The Quaffmaster will soon know!

Quaff rating: 3.5. Very nice to drink, and surprisingly complex. Quite a nice surprise.
Cough rating: 1.0. The ginger, while pleasant, produces some strong sensations.

Aftertaste update: the ginger lingers.
Gointotrance: "After you drink it, you know you've drunk it. The experience doesn't end as soon as you're done. For the next 40 minutes, you'll know you had this beverage."

Virgil's Cream Soda

2010-12-24T14:57:00.000-08:00

I've been saving this one for a special occasion.

It was really cream soda which led me to become the Quaffmaster. In the days of my youth, my parents made soda choices which shaped my future development. They did permit soda in the house, although it was not in enormously plentiful supply, and so I did develop a taste for it. However, more important than its availability was its nature. At least in my youngest days, we weren't a Coke/Pepsi household. Instead, my parents opted for Shasta.

Shasta stood out among the choices available to a family in Topeka for one main reason: it came in a wide variety of flavors. I clearly remember rows of multicolored Shasta cans in our refrigerator, each one a separate incipient taste experience. Only later in life did I come to realize that, for many children I knew, soda came in exactly three varieties: cola, lemon-lime, and root beer. While these are all worthy flavors, it was my days with Shasta which opened my eyes to the existence of soda...well, maybe not Weirdness, exactly, but at least relatively exotic things like strawberry, orange, and the intriguingly named "Dr. Diego".

And, of course...cream soda.

I think it came in a can which bore a tan color scheme. I don't remember the flavor clearly; it may have been of the tart, acid-laden cream soda family, or maybe a slightly mellower vanilla. Such distinctions are lost in the ever-shifting mists of memory. What I do clearly remember, though, is that cream soda was my favorite. Whenever my parents came home, bearing a variety pack of Shasta triumphantly upon their shoulders like early human hunters with a hunk of steaming mastodon carcass*, I would leap upon it and rip a can of cream soda from its cardboard viscera like a small, Lego-furred wolverine.

Thus, it was in my Kansan youth that I developed my taste for soda Weirdness in general, and cream soda in particular**.

I've had many a fine cream soda since then, but I've been hearing legends of this one. Those who speak of it do so in very respectful, hushed voices, as if they expected that a bottle might happen to be nearby and overhear them. It's not particularly hard to find, although it isn't usually at the regular grocery store. Thus, I'm not sure this fully qualifies as Weird. However, in the interest of exploring all facets of soda, the reputed pinnacles of excellence should not be neglected.

Given that we are in the thick of the holiday season today, this seems like an auspicious occasion. So whether you celebrate Christmas, Festivus, Chanukah, or Talk Like a Pirate Solstice Day, allow me to raise a glass of cream soda wassail to you, my generous and loyal readers.

Where and when: Purchased December 2010 at Frazier Farms, Vista, CA
Color: A fairly rich medium brown. Darker than many cream sodas.
Scent: Sweet, very vanilla-y. Maybe even maple-y. The vanilla has depth and darkness; it's a sweeter version of vanilla extract. Promising.
Long Rod McBean: "Smells very slightly of beer. Or maybe that's just my upper lip." I think I see what he means; the darker side of the vanilla has some complexity which is like that of a lager.
K-i-C: "Eww. Does not go well with cilantro."
The Kibbitzer-in-Chief has been making salsa for Christmas Eve dinner.
K-i-C: "Actually, it's not unlike the Marsala."
She's right. The Marsala is heady, creamy and amaretto-y, and there is something a little like that in the Virgil's. The more I smell this, the more I like it.
Wyvern: "Good. But I want to change my name. I'm Nazgul now."
So noted.

Taste:
Wow. WOW. This is outstanding. It's got a very strong vanilla, with the depth of real vanilla, but without most of the bitterness. Behind that, it's got some of the lighter french vanilla found in most of the cream sodas. It's a lovely balance, holding the main options in vanilla in concordant opposition***.
The aftertaste continues the balance, although the french vanilla does turn slightly more acid, taking a bigger role in the balance.

The balance and complexity are remarkable.

LRMB: "Light, yet...almost champagne-like."
Me: "Is that good?"
LRMB: "I wouldn't say it's the heartiest cream soda I've ever had. I'd call it a light cream soda. Maybe...a cream soda to go with a fruit tray and some cheese, rather than a hearty stew. You might want a darker, heavier cream soda on a cold day. Might be good with Mexican food with a squeeze of lime."

The rest of us gaze open-mouthed at Long Rod McBean's unsuspected culinary depths.

Nazgul (nee Wyvern): "Maple-y."
LAT: "Balrogs are awesome!"
K-i-C: "That's not very relevant."
LAT: "Yeah, but they are!"
K-i-C: "Yes, but would they like this cream soda?"
LAT: "Probably."

LRMB: "This cream soda would go well with prosciutto. Or else grapes, green grapes."

The funny thing is, he's right. This soda has enough character that it would go better with some foods.

What a lovely holiday treat. Bravo!

Quaff rating: 4.5. Among the most enjoyable sodas I've had.
Cough rating: 0. I can't think of any reason I'd be unhappy with this.

* Note: This was NOT one of the available Shasta flavors. I think Jones may be working on it, though.

** Plus, I still have a fondness for certain cardboard varietals.

*** Which is, if I remember, the outer alignment plane of true neutrals in 2nd edition AD&D.

Biotta Beet Juice

2010-11-25T21:57:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving Day!
At the Weird Soda Review Lab, we are thankful for many things. We have several loyal readers, for whom we are thankful. We get to play around with blogs, for which we are thankful. We have the opportunity to explore a fascinating and diverse world of bubbly beverages, experiencing scents and tastes which expand our sensory horizons. We are pioneers, explorers, voyagers into every unknown corner of the soda universe, shining the light of knowledge and experience into the dark corners of quaffdom. For all of that, we are thankful.
And there are several of those corners which we will NEVER HAVE TO VISIT AGAIN. And for that, we are profoundly thankful.

Of course, these two gratitude-inducing qualities are somewhat incompatible, especially when those dark corners hold new examples of Weirdness. When such conflicts arise, what choice have we but to continue to quaff all that can be quaffed?

It seemd appropriate to try and find something Thanksgiving-related. We have no meat-flavored sodas, and no more of the Tofurky and Gravy, so it'll have to be vegetable-based. And there's a vegetable based soda from one of the darkest of those dark corners which has been waiting, patient, biding its time in the Lab vaults...

Biotta Beet Juice

This is, of course, made by the same company which produced Biotta Digestive Drink, one of the least palatable concoctions we at the Lab have ever attempted to consume. The scars of that encounter, like the rings left by the tooth-rimmed suckers of giant squid on the heads of sperm whales, still mark the olfactory and gustatory centers of my brain. Its foulness was of a magnitude sufficient to--had the bottle been a bit smaller--have collapsed the fabric of taste-time (which is always looking a bit tattered around the Lab) and resulted in a naked sodularity. Such are the hazards of our calling, but rest assured, loyal readers, we have learned from the experience and enhanced our safety protocols. Emergency bottles of high-quality vanilla and cherry cream sodas have been placed around the lab to stabilize the yummion fields. I believe that we are now properly equipped to sample another Biotta product with only minimal risk of catastrophe.

Er...hold on a moment. A closer look at the label reveals that this is classified by Biotta as a "cleansing and fasting drink".
Maybe I'll have the staff reinforce those cream soda compensators with a few well-placed root beer stabilizers.

Where: purchased at Frazier Farms, Vista, CA
Color: Wow. I had assumed the glass of the bottle was opaque. It turns out (now that I've poured some into a cup) that it wasn't--the stuff is just a red-purple so dark as to be nearly black. I can tell it's red-purple because the inside of the bottle is coated with a thin layer. It doesn't bead up like a watery liquid; it seems to spread out, coating the interior of the bottle like some sort of obscene beet amoeba searching for prey. It's my understanding that wine connoisseurs will swirl wine around the glass to observe its "legs", the way in which it clings to the side. Doing so with this produces a transparent film of Biotta which clings...and clings...and clings. It very slowly slides off in a uniform mass, reluctantly, as if filled with the lost hopes of escape from its confinement and subsequent ravaging of the human world.

Scent: Beety. The scent doesn't get far, I had to get my nose close enough that I was worried about attack, but it's strong when it's there. A powerful, concentrated distillment of beet.
K-i-C: *rendered absolutely speechless for a moment, sniffs again*
K-i-C: *sits in contemplation for a while*
K-i-C: "Ugh. Smells like...onions and pomegranate. OLD onions and pomegranate. You should smell it, LAT."
LAT: "I'd rather not."

Taste: Oh...oh...
Recently, the K-i-C read a web site which translated the Chinese curses uttered on the magnificent cancelled-by-Fox-may-they-suffer-a-plague-of-aroused-hamsters science fiction show Firefly. One of them represents my thoughts on the taste nicely.
"Holy mother of God and all her wacky nephews!"
The initial taste, in the first second or so, is sort of like a thick grape punch with lots of citrus. And I do mean thick--it's roughly the consistency of cough syrup. However, the tastes which follow in the next few seconds escalate from worrisome to hideous. I actually found myself paralyzed, literally paralyzed, with growing despair and a sense of impending doom.
It began with the citrus, which transformed from chorus of sprightly, laughing citrusy children into a horde of cackling, cavorting lecherous imps of tartness as it moved over the back of the roof of my mouth. That tartness transformed from fruity to acid/sweatlike. It was accompanied by a moderate vegetable bitterness, trampling over the tender meadows at the base of my tongue, leaving them a blasted wasteland of mud and broken dandelion stalks.
Little bursts of sweetness could be seen, strongly in the initial taste and gradually fading thereafter. Aside from those, though, this was almost entirely unpleasant for me.

Interestingly, the K-i-C (who, after a prolonged struggle, managed to sip a bit) found the initial taste the worst by far, and felt that it got better over time. On the other hand, she said, after tasting it, that it would "go better with cabbage". I have two responses to that:

1) NOTHING goes better with cabbage.
2) That is a bit like saying "Death by cheese grater is awful. It would be better if you added a firing squad."

Quaff rating: 1.5. Parts of it could almost be good. Those parts are the first to die.
Cough rating: 3.5. I didn't puke, and didn't have to fight all that hard not to.

Foxon Park White Birch

2010-11-17T00:24:00.000-08:00

The Lab has been faced with a quandary of late. Some time ago, the Kibbitzer-in-Chief spearheaded a new sub-project for the Lab; an investigation into the growth patterns and oviproduction of Gallus domesticus. Yes, we had decided to raise some egg-laying hens. We procured several juvenile specimens and acquired a used habitat (i.e. found someone giving away a free coop on Craigslist).
The habitat was small, which was fine, given that we intended for the specimens* to free-range on the Lab grounds during the day. They grew well, and all was well.

Until...

The back door to the main Lab building is left open during much of the day, as the official Weird Soda Review canine auxiliary staff** require unfettered access to the grounds to perform their duties (these include "barking at nothing" and "pooping in as many places as possible"). In order to minimize insect infiltration of the Lab, the open doorway is covered by a screen curtain held together in the middle by a magnet. The canine staff mastered the art of simply pushing between the screen flaps within a few minutes, and so had no trouble with it. The new lab chickens, however, were completely stymied by this incomprehensible barrier.

Chicken #1: Behold, comrades! The large bipeds emerge from this opening with some regularity. Surely, beyond must lie untold riches and new places to poop. Let us voyage into the unknown.

Chicken #2: Indeed. Forth Eggorlingas!

Chicken #3: *hits screen* Alas! What is here, my faithful avian companions? My way is blocked by a mystic barrier. The light and scents from the paradise within drift out to tantalize and tempt me, yet I cannot pass! Ah, cruel fate!

Chicken #2: 'Zwounds, it bars my entry as well. Whence comes such an impediment? Knowest thou, O wise leader of out feathered sisterhood?

Chicken #1: Nay, it is altogether out of my experience. Never before has such a thing come to pass in the memory of any chicken. Let us investigate.

*The chickens poke around at the screen, completely failing to notice the fact that it parts easily in the middle*

Chicken #3: Truly, it is impassable. The mammalian bipeds and our canine foes must be possessed of some celestial virtue, unknown to hens, by which they can move freely betwixt this realm and that which lies beyond. Oh, cruel fate, which so oft is arranged against our ilk.

Chicken #1: Verily, thou hast pecked it on the mark. Come, let us return to our efforts to uproot every vegetable planted by the bipeds.

This dialogue was repeated every day. It was amusing to watch them utterly fail to figure out how to get through, and be so obviously annoyed that we and the dogs had no such trouble.

Well, it was funny until they finally figured it out. Now we have to keep a constant watch on the door, lest the chicken hordes invade and explore the Lab.

Inspired by this unfortunate turn of events, I have been busy constructing a larger habitat for the chickens (based on plans for the Garden Coop) in which they can spend more of each day in seclusion. Being a novice at construction, this has been occupying much of my attention, and I have neglected my Quaffmasterly duties. Well, no more. NO MORE, I say! No invading fowl shall keep me from the swift completion of my appointed rounds.

Tonight we're trying "Foxon Park White Birch" soda. I'm presuming this is a birch beer, rather than some sort of soda made from whole birch trees.

Where and when: Purchased at Urbn Pizza in Vista, CA.
Color: Transparent, totally clear. The white/pale blue label color scheme, combined with this, gives it an icy aspect.
Scent: Yep, it's a birch beer. It has that very strong scent of wintergreen. Oddly, though, it's underlaid with a savory, almost meaty smell. This is quite strange, and makes me a little afraid.
Taste: The mint is the dominant taste, with a nice balance of sweetness. The sweet is not overwhelming; rather, it's a good complement to the mint. However, there don't seem to be any other tastes at all. It's very clean, but kind of uninteresting.
No sign of meatiness, not even a bit of gravy or a blot of mustard.
About ten seconds after the swig, a delayed aftertaste creeps in. It's a cooler, more pepperminty feeling, pleasant and faint. Other than that, there's very little aftertaste; cool mint, and a fading slight tart note which is the inevitable melancholy twilight to cane sugar's intense noontide radiance.
I'm really not sure what to make of this. It leaves very little impression beyond a pleasant wintergreen mintiness. I suppose in its own way, that's nice; the cleanness is appealing in a way, and at least it's a pleasant taste, but it lacks complexity. It reminds me a bit of IKEA furniture.

K-i-C: "Rest assured, it was quite expensive."

Hmm. Perhaps I'm not sophisticated enough to appreciate what sets this apart from all other birch beers. It's nice--I wouldn't mind drinking it--but I probably would specifically request it. And I definitely wouldn't try to have it with most pizzas, it's far too weak.

Actually, Urbn has a nice white-sauce pizza with clams. This might go well enough with that...

Soda in the trees
A few notes, now repeated
Plain and simple song

Quaff rating: 2.5. The taste is well-balanced and pleasant, but colorless.
Cough rating: 0. There's nothing offensive here at all.

Fizzy Vimto

2010-10-24T23:55:00.000-07:00

The second Weird soda I obtained from Bit O' Britain in Carlsbad is Fizzy Vimto. Here you can see it in a dignified setting, as befits a British soda.

And a better view. The backdrop is a lovely afghan knitted for me by my Aunt Barbara, who would probably be happy to know that it will now be seen by...er...the throngs which view this site. Throngs, I tell you!

It had a very cheerful-looking can, with something distinctly British about it. It actually seems to me that British junk food shares a sort of...er...

Me: "Hey, K-i-C? You're a literature person. What's the word to use when you're trying to say that a bunch of things share a set of common characteristics that they use to convey meaning? Milieu? Weltanschaaung? Gestalt?"
K-i-C: "Er. I don't think so."
Me: "Argh. Do you know what I'm talking about?"
K-i-C: "No. I was thinking about Euripides."

Dammit. Here I am, unable to come up with the right word, and my Lab partner is off thinking about interesting things unrelated to my needs. How could she?

Oh well. It seems to me that British junk food shares a certain set of common themes in its plumage, the primary element being a fairly short brand name which is simultaneously intriguing and uninformative. "Horbix", "Glutrio", and "Whangee" all seem like they could be good British junk food names*.
This name is typically displayed on a brightly-colored background, in a large, balloon-ish or otherwise curved font, and conveys no information about the nature of the product.

Vimto gives us a little help, at least. It bears the description "Fizzy", and there are images of fruit behind the logo, along with a liquid-looking purple splotch.

Sounds like a Weird soda!

Where and when: Purchased at Bit O' Britain in Carlsbad, CA
Color: Reddish-purple, slightly darker than the Tango. Transparent.
K-i-C: "Strangely, a bit pinkish. Well, not that strange, considering the smell."
Scent: Strong, sweet, berryish. Strong element of bubble gum.
Taste: Sweet, very sweet. Smooth, maybe a bit viscous. Tastes sort of like Concord grape jelly, the sort you find in tiny packets at 3 am at IHOP.
K-i-C: "This is the loudest soda I've ever drunk. Did you hear how loud the bubbles are? Like Pop Rocks. " *swig* "Tastes kind of like Pop Rocks, too."
The bubble gum flavor is there, along with a mild acidity. It's got a moderately mellow taste, like a fruit or berry punch, with grape being the strongest element for me.
K-i-C: "Didn't you hear the bubbles. Here, hold some in your mouth."
She's right. It's like Rice Krispies in there.

What's in this?

Quoth the back of the can:
"Mixed fruit juice drink made with the delicious secret Vimto flavour. A tantalising mix of secret herbs and spices, for the most amazing taste experience you'll ever have."

A mix of secret herbs and spices? My God...it's British Kentucky Fried Chicken Soda!

Okay, maybe not. It lists the ingredients as being carbonated water, sucrose, mixed fruit juices (grape, blackcurrant, and raspberry), and "Vimto Flavour". This last is further described as containing fruits, herbs, barley malt and spices.
I really don't taste the barley, but I can believe it. The secrets of the Vimto Flavour are mysteries perhaps beyond the fathoming even of a Quaffmaster.

It's got a reasonably pleasant fruit flavor, with a strong grape and berry tone, a big bubble gum component, and an unusually smooth texture (especially considering the strong fizziness). Not bad, but not really magnificent.

Quaff rating: 3. Fairly pleasant, but ordinary. I like it sort of as I like Fanta Orange. I'd happily drink it if someone handed it to me, but probably wouldn't seek it out.
Cough rating: 0.5. Strongly sweet, and I don't care for the bubble gum.

* They are also good names for Great Old Ones**.
** Or first-year Latin porn stars

Tango Cherry

2010-10-19T13:15:00.000-07:00

In our continuing quest for worldwide Weirdness, we found ourselves in downtown Carlsbad. Now, if you are familiar with the geography of north San Diego county, you might be aware that downtown Carlsbad is about fifteen miles from Vista, where the Lab is located. Being aware of that, you might regard a fifteen mile trip as something less than impressive in terms of a "worldwide quest". You might, in fact, conclude that we were less than dedicated in this quest. If you were of a particularly rude turn of mind, you might even (heaven forfend!) scoff at our dedication to a global Weirdness perspective, and make pointed remarks as to the pluck, vim and vigor, and "can-do" attitude which seems less than evident.

I can only respond to such scurrilous calumnies in two ways.

Riposte the First: there is a store in downtown Carlsbad called "Bit O' Britain", which sells genuine British foodstuffs, and...

Riposte the Second: the second "Dollhouse" series DVD came from Netflix, and the Lab staff REALLY wanted to watch it on the Lab theater system that night, so an actual trip to Britain was unfeasible.

There. I will expect your apology by post within the week, or I shall demand satisfaction, sirrah!

To be perfectly honest, our visit to Bit O' Britain was not motivated primarily by a quest for Weird soda, but rather by a hankering for sausage rolls and Caerphilly cheese for cheese muffins*. However, my job as a Quaffmaster requires me to be alert at all times for the possibility of acquiring new samples, and markets selling foreign foods are excellent opportunities to broaden the palate. Thus, I discovered several British sodas which might be called "Weird".

The first we will review is called "Tango", with a subtitle presumably denoting the flavor variant (in this case, cherry). I was particularly drawn to this one because the can employed a gimmick. A potentially rude phrase is imprinted on the side of the can, with a strategic word missing and replaced by a white box. In this case, the phrase is:

"Chilled Tango Made My ________ Shrink"

It's sort of like a redacted document, in which euphemisms for body parts are regarded as classified national security information**.

In this case, the gimmick is that the missing word is printed in some sort of temperature-sensitive dye, so that it only appears when the can is cooled to a temperature suitable for soda. I believe a similar gimmick is employed on cans of Coors beer***.

In this case, upon spending some time in the Lab refrigeration apparatus, the missing word was revealed to be "Stones".

The can is further emblazoned with a lead-in to the gimmick phrase, "It started in my toes, and froze up my leg until...". Near this, there is (for reasons which are unclear) an image of a bear trap. The mixture of mildly raunchy phrases and vaguely threatening images on this can has left my mystified.

Let's see if the soda itself is any less mystifying.

Where and when: Purchased at Bit O' Britain, Carlsbad, CA
Color: Transparent red, fairly light.
Wyvern: "Lightish cherry-colored."
Scent: Very much like unsolidified cherry Jell-O. Very sweet, moderately tart, synthetic cherry. Not especially promising in the eternal quest for the perfect taste of cherry Popsicles.
Wyvern: "Mmmmnnneeaahhh. Not good, but not bad."
Taste: Wow, much more tart than expected. The initial feel is of tart rather than sweet, with an odd burning sensation similar to Pop Rocks. It goes beyond carbonation.
That tart is followed by a cherry which is very similar to the smell; very sweet and heavily synthetic. This goes beyond the innocent, artificial cherry sweetness of Popsicles, and on into some sort of cyborg-level synthetic taste. Reminds me of hot dogs, for some reason. It doesn't actually taste like meat, but there's something in the overtones of the taste which brings the juice in a pack of hot dogs to mind.
Wyvern: "Tart-ish. What I think a 'tart' would taste like."

I wait a while, and then try it again. The tart is still there, but the burning has faded somewhat. The cherry flavor hasn't gotten any better; it's still very unnatural, and seems to be developing more of a bitter aftertaste.
Wyvern: "It doesn't make me pinch my throat closed after I sip it anymore."

The cherry is slowly devolving into medicinal cherry, but with a heavy unnatural note, a weird combination of tart and bitter. Kind of vile. As fond as I am of cherry flavors, I don't care for this. And it's making my stomach hurt. I blame King George III.

What the heck is in this, anyway? I am astonished to find that the second ingredient--just after carbonated water--is actual cherry juice from concentrate. I believe the British word for my state would be "gobsmacked". How can something which tastes like this actually be made of fruit juice?
Another swig, and I'm still mystified. This is not a nice cherry flavor. I'm trying to not even be swayed by my love of cherry Popsicles; I wouldn't have guessed that this was flavored with cherry juice. I like real cherries. Still, in the interest of integrity, I must admit that I was wrong about the synthetic nature of this one; it is (apparently) the real thing.

This had better not actually be making anything shrink.

Quaff rating: 1.5. I'm really trying to like the cherry, but I can't quite manage it.
Cough rating: 2.0. Not actively awful, but possessed of a certain quiet horrendousness.

Update: Ten minutes later, by stomach is actually uncomfortable. Bad British!

*"Hey, Jim? How do the British make their toasted cheese muffins?"
"I don't know, Bob. How?"
"CAERPHILLY! BWA HA HA HA HA!"
"I hate you, Bob."

**One can only wish that the redactions in United States governmental documents were hiding the same things. "The Director of the Department of Homeland Security made the decision to close the airport based on _____________" would be much more entertaining (and less disturbing) if the missing words were "bodacious ta-tas".

***Sales of Coors would probably improve if the thing which appeared when the can was cooled was not a stylized image of the Rockies, but rather something along the lines of the ideas described elsewhere in this review.

Mary Jane's Relaxing Soda

2010-10-15T17:11:00.000-07:00

There are days when being the Quaffmaster comes with a fair amount of stress. As an example: today, my "to-do" list includes:
1) Pick up "Shade's Children" and "Gateway" from the library
2) Return approximately 65 pounds of books to the library
3) Package auto parts to return to the vendor
4) Rent a tuxedo
5) Purchase components for this year's Halloween costume ("Groovus Maximus, the Beatnik Centurion")
6) Really seriously think about getting around to grading some papers

Plus, there's the work at the Lab. If only I could find some way to make the quaffing and reviewing of soda include some sort of mellow relaxation...

Wait. What's this? Here, in the back...
"Mary Jane's Relaxing Soda".

Perfect. A review title which will get me arrested.

I'm excited about this one. When I spotted it on the shelf at BevMo, I couldn't pass it up. Now, while I am reasonably widely-experienced in the realm of Weird soda, I am effectively completely naive about other Weird...er...substances. I drink very little alcohol, smoke no tobacco, and have had no experience with anything else. Even so, I couldn't help but think that "Mary Jane's Relaxing Soda" was meant to refer to something else.

A closer look at the label:
"Take a moment for yourself. Enjoy euphoric relaxation that's all natural, plain and simple. Consume Responsibly - Limit 2 bottles per day. Excessive use or use with prescription sedatives may cause drowsiness and impair ability to operate a motor vehicle or heavy equipment."
I think that I need to take a good, close look at the ingredients list for this one.
We've got water, cane sugar, passionflower extract, caramel color, kava extract, phosphoric acid, citric acid, and natural flavor.
Apparently, kava is a Pacific island herb whose roots can be used to prepare a mild sedative drink, so we can probably assume that's the active ingredient. I'm keeping an eye on the "natural flavors", though...

The Kibbitzer-in-Chief says, "Should I make some brownies for this review?"

She does make some darned fine brownies, especially for someone who doesn't like chocolate.

Oh, as an extra bonus, we have another guest reviewer at the Lab today. Flip-Flop Girl, a good friend, is visiting with her children. Let's see how she likes this one.

Where and when: Purchased at BevMo, October 2010
Color: Moderately-dark caramel.
FFG: "Well...brown?"
K-i-C: "Yep. I guess it's a tiny bit red. Watery prune juice color."
Scent: Sweet, moderately spicy. Herbal and cinnamon notes, lemony.
K-i-C: "Woo! It..."
FFG: "To me it smells like stale Pepsi."
K-i-C: "It doesn't really smell like anything that special."
FFG: "It smells like a soda that's been left out all day."
K-i-C: "It's been relaxing."

It is similar to Pepsi, but more volatile, a bit heady.

FFG: "There's something else I'm trying to identify..."
K-i-C: "It's got kind of a caramel smell to it."

Taste: Stronger citrus than I was expecting, more orange than lemon. The initial taste is of citrus, followed closely by a slightly more bitter fruit.

FFG: "You know how you were saying it looked kind of like prunes?"
She's right...it's is a pruniness, maybe raisin-y. I think the passionflower is pretty strong. So it goes from orange-passion to prune, still not unpleasant, but definitely unusual.

K-i-C: "I don't feel more relaxed."
FFG: "Maybe you haven't had enough yet."

Oh, isn't that ALWAYS the way these things start?

There's a very, very faint hint of bitter in the later taste. If I close my eyes, it reminds me slightly of the Abbondio Chinotto, but not nearly so strong. The taste interacts nicely with the smell; the cinnamon and spice of the scent combines well with the citrus and prune. More pleasant than I would have guessed.

The K-i-C and Flip-Flop Girl say the prune comes before the citrus. I guess I'm outvoted.

And then the chickens (yes, the Lab has chickens) mounted an escape attempt. The ensuing chaos may have impinged on any putative relaxation effect, but it was a fairly enjoyable experience nonetheless.

JAT: "Bleah."

Quaff rating: I'm torn between 3.0 and 3.5. I'm going to go with the 3.0, based on the opinions of the K-i-C and Flip-Flop Girl.
Cough rating: 1. The raisin flavor is a bit odd.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Tamarindo

2010-10-13T09:56:00.000-07:00

The time has come.

This Jarritos odyssey began, arguably, with a review of Jarritos' Tamarindo flavor. It was a little while after that that I was first contacted by the Jarritos company with their offer to send me a variety pack for review, presumably because I didn't much care for the tamarind flavor.
While the variety pack has held some surprises, both pleasant and not quite as pleasant, I did note that there was a tamarind bottle in it. It was as if Jarritos was offering me a chance at redemption in their eyes, a way to clear the air between us. Maybe they changed the formula! It could be their way of atoning; a humble offering for me to evaluate, to determine if their honor could be restored.

Or maybe it's a chance for personal growth on my part. When I have expressed dissatisfaction with other Weird sodas, readers have written in with vigorously-expressed opinions concerning my comments on their favorite beverages, as well as faith that if I were slightly higher on the evolutionary scale (above, for example, yeast), I would feel differently. These occasions have reminded me that my own journey is hardly at an end, and in my voyaging I may well experience my own alterations and transformations. Perhaps I have reached a new level of maturity in which it is not the Tamarindo which has changed, it is only myself, and I will find that I now understand and appreciate it.

Or, maybe, there is, in fact, no Tamarindo. Perhaps the bottle contains an assortment of vile toxins or biowarfare agents, and upon quaffing I will be reduced into a mound of gibbering protoplasm. Jarritos corporate ninjas will rappel into the Lab from their candy-colored stealth helicopters and plant a sign over my jellied remains, warning any who might see it of the dangers of implying that a Jarritos flavor tastes like "mango armpit".

I have NO FEAR.

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos
Color: Medium tan, semi-translucent. The color reminds me of cantaloupe, although it is a bit darker/browner.
Oddly, although I don't have a comparison bottle to be sure, I think this is significantly lighter than the Jarritos Tamarindo that I had before. Is that a promising sign?
Scent: Tangy, sharp, acid, not very sweet. Surprisingly, not unpleasant; there is an element of muskiness, but it's not all that bad. It's strange...almost meaty, which is kind of disturbing.
K-i-C: "I don't smell anything." It *is* faint, I agree.
Taste: Okay, checklist.
Cup? Check.
Backup tasters? Check.
Emergency supply of caramels? Check.
Here goes.

Hmmm. The dominant flavor is tartness, not as sharp as lemon or quite as bitter as lime. It's got a sort of tangerine feel to it. Hard to pin down. There's a certain mango-y quality, especially to the initial taste and first follower, which is fast.
It's sweeter than the smell, especially right at first. The tart comes right on the heels of that, and is followed about a second and a half later by the fruity. We go from sweet to citrusy to mango-tangerine in the first few seconds.
A few seconds after that, there's the muskiness, but it's muted. Actually, it's a bit like caramel (and no, that's not because I was preemptively inoculating myself from the emergency supply).
In the previous review, I likened it to pre-vomit saliva. On the third quaff, I can feel that a bit; this produces a heavy feel in the bottom of the mouth, but it's not as bad as before.

K-i-C: "Tastes like sweet armpit juice."

Well, I don't think it's as bad, anyway.

A few more swigs later, it's becoming a bit less pleasant. The sour saliva taste is increasing, as is the muskiness. Perhaps this behaves like wine; there may be some sort of oxidation going on as it's exposed to the air, which is changing the flavor. Perhaps, as in so many cases, the K-i-C is quicker to grasp the inevitable truths than I am.

I decide to take some out to the Lead Assistant Tester and .$O", who is again visiting the Lab. I'm not telling them the flavor, though.

.$O": "Well, it looks disgusting."
They swig.
LAT: "Ugh! Bitter!"
.$O": "Mmmmm!" *swigs again*
LAT: "It's all heavy and slimy in my mouth."
.$O": "It's really good! Tastes like...apple cider, but fizzy." Interestingly, he's right; there is a similarity to apple cider vinegar.
LAT: "But it's bitter, like they crushed the stems in, too." *grimace* "It's good, though." *swigs*

From this, I have learned two things. First, that Tamarindo is a complex flavor, and probably an acquired taste. Some folks seem to really relish it; others fear and loathe it.
Second, there is no soda so repulsive that the LAT can't bring himself to enjoy it. He's a born Weird Soda reviewer.

I am concluding that Jarritos Tamarindo isn't as bad as I thought the first time. I could enjoy the first few sips. However, as I went on, I found it less and less pleasant; the muskiness and heaviness became increasingly apparent, masking the crisp tart flavors. It went from an earthy tart sparking cider to the slightly slimy feel of cider vinegar and club soda.
I could imagine, though, that someone who was already fond of tamarind would enjoy this.

Unfortunately, it wasn't so awful as to justify digging into the emergency caramel stash, which saddens me. These disappointments are part of the burden a Quaffmaster must learn to bear.

My thanks to Jarritos for an interesting set of samples of Weirdness to review. In the days to come, we'll be delving deeper into the realms of the Weird. I have a few samples from Mitsuwa, and...shudder...possibly another product of Biotta.

*dramatic music cue* Dun dun DUUUUUUUUNNNNNN!

Quaff rating: 2. There are pleasant flavors in this, but they are adulterated with Weirdness of the bad sort.
Cough rating: Began around 1.5, but rose to 2.5 over subsequent sips. I'm going to give it an average score of about 2. Significantly aversive, but not a threat to one's digestion.

Afterburp update: Earthy. Kind of unpleasant.

Further aftertaste update: Mmmmmmm, caramels.

We're on Facebook!

2010-10-12T19:32:00.000-07:00

Well, it had to happen. The Weird Soda Review now has a Facebook page. If you're on Facebook, feel free to "Like" us. It makes us here at the Lab feel special.

In a fit of geekery, I tried to expand the explanations of Quaff and Cough ratings you can see on the right with the nifty "hover your mouse over something and get extra text to appear" HTML goodness. Let me know if it doesn't work for you.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Grapefruit (Toronja)

2010-10-10T12:44:00.000-07:00

The Lab, like many institutes at which cutting-edge research is accomplished, can sometimes get a bit...messy. It's really not unique to the Weird Soda Review Lab; I was once a graduate student at UCLA, and I can testify that things there could also get a bit disorganized. You'd be walking the halls of a lab building, and inevitably, there would be random stuff littering the corners, stuffed in the alcoves, and (occasionally) spang in the middle of the hall. This accumulated debris of scientific inquiry ranged from broken office chairs to supercomputers which were one generation behind the leading edge. However, no matter what comprised these piles of castoffs, they were always accompanied by indicators that the piles were NOT TO BE TOUCHED. Somebody had PUT that stuff there, darnit, and they'd be sorting through it ANY DAY NOW, so you should just LEAVE IT ALONE. This was nearly universal, despite the fact that some of these piles had been there since before I became a graduate student (and my PhD took...well...let's just say longer than it should, so that things which were there before I got there were ancient indeed). In some cases, I'm not sure tat the person who had PUT IT THERE was, in fact, still EMPLOYED by UCLA, and might in fact be PUSHING UP DAISIES, and thus unlikely to HANDLE THE MESS except perhaps in a Jacob Marley-ish fashion.

Professor Scrooge fell upon his knees, and clasped his hands before his face.
“Mercy!” he said. “Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?”
“Man of the professorial mind!” replied the Ghost, “do you believe in me or not?”
"I do,” said Scrooge. “I must. But why do spirits walk the earth, and why do they come to me?”
“It is required of every professor,” the Ghost returned, “that he or she should not litter the halls of his building with stacks of unpublished data, discarded CRTs, and unclassifiable office furniture; or, if he should do so, that he CLEAN IT THE &@#$ UP BEFORE RETIRING, and if that spirit cleaneth it not up in life, it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander through the lab—oh, woe is me!—and witness what it cannot tidy, but might have tidied on earth, and the consequent plugs of desperate undergrads trying to find their way though the ever-ramifying maze!”
Again the spectre raised a cry, and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.
“You are fettered,” said Professor Scrooge, trembling. "Discarded printers are chained to your ankles, and an antiquated gene sequencer depends from your neck. Tell me why?”
“I wear the crud I abandoned in life,” replied the Ghost. “I left it there in the hall bit by bit, and pile by pile; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I always intended to call Facilities to have it discarded, but never quite got around to it. Is its pattern strange to you?”
Scrooge trembled more and more.
“Or would you know,” pursued the Ghost, “the weight and length of the huge pile of crud you bear yourself? It was full as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have laboured on it, since. Remember that iMac you got for the graduate student? The one with the built-in CRT? Still there.”
Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty generations of obsolescence and probably-useless-but-can't-quite-bring-mysef-to-throw-it-out: but he could see nothing.
“Jacob,” he said, imploringly. “Old Dean Marley, tell me more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob!”
“I have none to give,” the Ghost replied.

-from "Ramifications of Paranormal Experience on Microeconomic Behaviors: an fMRI study", C. Dickens, PI*

Well, in any case, the Lab has gotten a bit...messy. In fact, I got up early this morning, and was just about to get started on thinking about finding a pile of papers to sort into smaller piles of papers, when the Kibbitzer in Chief got up. She came out into the Lab. She looked around.

She shuddered. Her eyes closed, and seemed unwilling to open.

"I'm going out," she said, "for a bit."

"When will you be back?" I asked, poised precariously on the precipice of springing into action on considering starting to clean up a bit.

She opened her eyes for a moment, then squinched them closed, as if confronted by visions dangerous to sanity and health.

"It'll be a while," she said.

"Anything you want me to do while you're out?" I asked, in my usual selfless, helpful mode.

She came close, and opened her eyes only when my face would fill her peripheral vision entirely, blotting out the non-Euclidean landscape of assorted junk mail.

"I'm sure you can think of something," she said, while fixing me with a deeply meaningful look.

Then she left. I sat, puzzled and pondering her cryptic departing message, until finally enlightenment struck. She wanted me to do a Weird Soda Review!
Well, heck. It's the least I can do.

Today we go with the penultimate soda from the Jarritos Variety Pack, "Toronja", which I believe to be grapefruit, based on the fruit depicted on the bottle and the English message "Naturally Flavored Grapefruit Soda" printed below. Just to be sure--we're meticulous scientists at the Lab--I looked it up in an incontrovertible source**.

Apparently, it's either Portuguese or Spanish, and means "grapefruit".

All right. Bring on the Toronja!

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos
Color: I would say greeny-tan, although the JAT ("Wyvern") says "yellow, with a hint of green". Slightly cloudy.
Scent: Errr...not promising. To me, it smells almost exactly like lemon-scented floor cleaner. There is a sweet undertone, but the lemon is aggressive and unpleasant.
Wyvern: "Lemony-ish". The use of two vague-ifiers is interesting.
LAT: "Lemony lime...No! 7-Up!" There's something to that, although it lacks the crispness of 7-Up.
Taste: Significantly sweeter than the smell. Strong lemonade, with little or no grapefruit bitterness. The lemon is much like the smell--acrid, and synthetic tasting. Underneath is a sticky sweetness. Pretty unpleasant.
Wyvern: "Uhhhheeeehhhhhuuh."
LAT: "Bluh. It sticks to my mouth. It's like 7-Up jello syrupy. Let me try that again."
*sip*
"Vleh. It sticks to the inside of my mouth. Gross."
It's really too bad the K-i-C couldn't be here. She'd hate it.
LAT: "Blech. Now it's bitter."
Hmm. I don't really get the bitterness. It still tastes more like lemon floor cleaner to me. It's really not grapefruit-y at all, more of an unpleasant lemonade. It's quite strong, very sweet and strongly tart. If you had strong lemonade with too much sugar and added SweeTarts or Pixie Stix powder, it might be like this.
It's not so much actively unpleasant as yecchy but not nausea-inducing. Much less pleasant than most Jarritos.

Quaff rating: 1.5. Not nice to drink.
Cough rating: 1.0. The "floor cleaner" aspect is unpleasant, but nothing in it makes me actively want to spit it out.

Now, what to do for the rest of the day?

* Text from http://www.ibiblio.org/ebooks/Dickens/Carol/Dickens_Carol.htm
**Wiktionary

Jarritos Variety Pack: Pineapple (Pina)

2010-10-08T10:18:00.000-07:00

We're approaching the end of the Jarritos Variety Pack. Soon, it'll come back down to Tamarind, the one which started it all. However, in the interest of delaying that as long as possible (I wasn't very fond of Tamarind...), we'll take on Pineapple today.

Pineapple sodas are an interesting bunch. I've only reviewed one so far, and that wasn't strictly pineapple; pina colada is only pineapple-based.
Fresh pineapple is a wonderful pleasure. Deliciously juicy and sweet, with just the right added tartness, it's a lovely and refreshing fruit. Pineapple soda is not necessarily so well-balanced. The Jones Pineapple Cream, for instance, is heavy on the sweet side with insufficient balance; while it's nice, it doesn't really capture pineapple. Fizzy Lizzy, on the other hand...well, I haven't reviewed it yet, so that'll have to wait.

Jarritos specializes in fruit, and while they are often a bit sweet for me, pineapple's dominant flavor is very sweet. It might be a good match.

Let's find out.

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos
Color: Mostly yellow, with the slightest tinge of yellow-green. Semi-translucent.
K-i-C: "Looks like chicken broth. With celery."
Scent: Interesting. Definitely sweet, but that's not all of it. A bit metallic? I don't think metallic is quite the right word. Sharp, but not acid. The image that comes to mind is a moonlit icicle. It has the same taste as the sound of an icicle breaking at night.
I'm not sure exactly what that means. Being the Quaffmaster does, at times, border on the mystic.
*sniff* Okay, an icicle with a bit of vanilla syrup on it.
LAT: "Smells like Gatorade. Not very strong, though."
JAT: "Lemony Gatorade. It smells good, though."
I think it's a bit stronger than Gatorade, and definitely creamier.
K-i-C: *sniff* "Is it papaya?"
JAT: "It says pineapple."
K-i-C: *sniff* "Smells more like papaya."
Taste: Sweet, but not quite as cloying as some. It does indeed have a balancing tartness.
LAT: "BLEAH." *spit* "Bubbly pineapple syrup. I don't like bubbly pineapple syrup."
JAT: (enthusiatically) "Can I try?" *sip* "Wow." *pause* "I think it's kind of good."

Have I mentioned that, at this point in their lives, the lead and junior assistant testers are effectively guaranteed to disagree about anything?

LAT: "Can I try it again?" *sip* *grimace* "Blech."
JAT: "Can I try some more?" *sip* "Surprising."
K-i-C: "It's interesting. The taste is different than the smell. I feel like I need to wipe out the inside of my mouth, though. It's like pineapple with marshmallow."

Yeah, that's pretty accurate.

K-i-C: "I wonder if that means marshmallow would be good with ham?"
LAT: "Marshmallow with ham?!"
K-i-C: "Pineapple is good with ham."
LAT: "But pineapple isn't good with marshmallow!"

LAT: "It's still good, though, even though...bleh."

So here's the verdict. It's actually complex enough, between the taste and aftertaste, to be a reasonable approximation of sweet pineapple juice. The K-i-C is right, though...the delayed aftertaste has an oddly creamy, marshmallow-y taste. It's as if someone couldn't help but make it a pina colada.

K-i-C: "Now imagine it with a slice of bacon."
JAT: "Mmmmm!"
LAT: "BLEH!"
K-i-C: "I think my next batch of Rice Krispy Treats will have bacon bits."

Quaff rating: 3.0. Best approximation of pineapple I've had yet. Would go well with bacon.
Cough rating: 0.5. Still a bit too sweet.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Jamaica

2010-10-07T07:36:00.000-07:00

Dewy-Eyed Adorable Kid: Grampa Quaffmaster, tell us a story about the Great Review Famine of 2010!
Grampa Quaffmaster: *wheeze* Well, young whippersnapper, it all started back in August of the year 2010. I was livin' back at the Lab in those days, not here in this fancy new flyin' orbital contraptio-whatzamagigger you got here. Why, back in those days, if we wanted to fly, we had to wait till someone big 'n strong came along to kick us in the seat of our britches so's we could jest soar over the crick and into the next county! And personally, I don't hold with there here trans-mat-o-rays, whaddaya-call-em's, "Telly-porters". Nawp, nawp, never have done. In my day, if'n you wanted to get torn apart at a sub-molecular level and have the quantum state of all yer bosons and fermions and whatnot edited to map to new coordinates in Schrodinger-Klein space, you had to do it yerself, with good old spit 'n gumption! We didn't have fancy machines to do it for us! You young folks today, you jest don't know what you've got. Gawd, I hate you kids.
DEAK: Aww, Grampa, you're such a coot. What about the Review Famine?
GQ: Oh, you want to hear about the Famine! Well, why didn't you say so? It all started back in 2010, when Obama were President. That was before the Swarm Intelligence act, when individual people were allowed to run the country. Anyway, I was jest sittin' down to quaff me some sort o' bubblin' brew for the review, when I heard this sound in the backyard. It were kind of a "vworp vworp" sound, kind o' like the oogah-horn on m'old Schwinn, and then the chickens started kickin' up a fuss, and I thought I'd better go see if it were the cyborg rebellion startin' up again. Well, it weren't. Out o' nowhere, this blue box just sort of appeared in the middle of yer gramma's vegetable patch. I was gwinter go out and let 'em have a good talkin'-to about that--probably some young kid, puttin' his blue box wherever he felt like it, no consideration. Why, back in my day, if we had a blue box we needed to materialize somewhere, we asked PERMISSION first, and you better bet we said "sir" when we asked! Gol-darned young kids just strewin' there blue boxes all over the space-time continuum, crushin' people's azaleas.
DEAK: Grampa...
GQ: Don't you interrupt me when I'm on a rant. Anyway, this youngster came rushin' out of his box, and he came up to me and said, "We need you, Quaffmaster. There's a terrible crime which is going to happen in the year 5416, and it'll crack the very foundations of reality. It will cause devastation from the founding of Skaro to the collapse of the Shadow Proclamation. All of existence is at stake."
DEAK: What did you do, Grampa?
GQ: I told him "First, get yer box off my wife's broccoli." Well, he went back into his box, there was that oogah sound, and the box moved over onto the driveway. He came out again, and said, "Will you come?" I asked him why it was me he needed. Back then, I hadn't ever saved the universe, not even once.
DEAK: Wow. That must have been a long time ago.
GQ: Yep. Well, he said three words. Just three words, and I knew I had to go.
DEAK: What three words?
GQ: "There's a Weird Soda involved."
DEAK: That's five words.
GQ: Shut up. You kids these days, with yer "new math", you think you can count to five? Why, back in my day, if we wanted to count to five, we went out and WORKED to save up enough money to buy five...things, and then we lined them up, and we counted 'em, and if we only got to three were were grateful that we got three! You young kids...
DEAK: *bops GQ with a stick*
GQ: Well, it was then that I stood up straight, looked that young man right in the eye, and said "I guess I'm yer man. What's yer name, sonny?" And he says, "I'm The Doctor." And I says to him, "I'm...

THE QUAFFMASTER."

DEAK: And then what?
GQ: I told him to get a haircut. Well, we went into his box, and I saved the universe, but it took a bit. So there weren't any reviews until October of that year.
DEAK: Gramma said you were in the bathroom reading from August until October that year.
GQ: Go clean yer room.

Where: Donated by Jarritos
Color: A rather lovely transparent red-orange
Scent: Quite sweet, floral. Roses, tulips; a fairly mellow, heady scent. Nice. It's my understanding that Jamaica is made with hibiscus, so the floral scent makes sense. This is a bit sweeter than most hibiscus-based drinks I've had.
Taste: Very sweet, but recognizably hibiscus. In my (limited) experience with Jamaica drinks, many have an earthy taste,while others add a bit or tartness. This is closer to the earthy kind, but with dominance from the sweet. Almost, but not quite, syrupy. Like many Jarritos flavors, it's probably a bit too sweet for my tastes, but still pleasant. Very clean taste, mild, uncomplicated aftertaste, without a lot of acid.
I would be happy drinking this; it's a sweet hibiscus. If you imagine the Jamaica agua frescas you can get from jars on the countertop in some Mexican fast-food type restaurants, it's a little like that, but thinner and less complex.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Nice enough, but unremarkable. A simple soda.
Cough rating: 0.5. A bit too sweet and simple.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Lima-Limon

2010-08-14T12:19:00.000-07:00

We recently reviewed Jarritos' "Lime" flavor, which the bottle listed as "limon". This seeming inconsistency led me to some linguistic research into the proper Spanish translations of "lemon" and "lime", which apparently depends on a number of factors, such as the exact dialect of Spanish involved, the prevalence of lemons and limes (and apparently some third fruit) in the area, and possibly one's horoscope. However, Jarritos seemed to have weighed in clearly on the issue: the bottle of "limon" was translated as "lime", the soda was green, and it tasted of lime. One would think that the issue--as far as Jarritos was concerned--was resolved.

Ha.

Today we are reviewing Jarritos Lima-Limon flavor, which the bottle translates as "lemon-lime". When I saw that, I was wracked by uncertainty. I felt my world tremble on its foundations, my sanity and rational worldview teetering, held in place only by the tenuous filaments of my belief in a sensible linguistic world.
Which of those words means 'lemon'?, I gibbered.
As far as I could tell, this was "lime-lime" soda! Nowhere had I found the suggestion that "lima" could mean "lemon". But how could "lime-lime" exist? Somehow, the very conception was abhorrent, as though the first and second limes would, rather than interacting in an additive fashion, coalescing into some sort of unspeakable uber-lime which might permeate the world with its eldritch citressence--they might instead cancel, resulting in a lime-shaped hole in linguistic reality, a hole through which one might glimpse the nightmarish, cyclopean fruity horrors which lurk behind the veil of conscious reality, horrors which whisper and insinuate in our subconscious minds, filling our dreams with nameless fragrances and half-remembered tastes of fruits unknown and unknowable. These seed-bearing, fleshy, pulpy abominations would not only be seen, but could then see, emerging into the sane sunlight world of conscious thought spreading their malign influence and shaping the world of words and literature into a pattern more subtly aligned to their unguessed purposes.

To avoid this outcome, I have decided to enlist the help of the Kibbitzer-in-Chief's father, who is visiting the Lab today. As a Spanish speaker, perhaps he can help avert the collapse of civilization and sane expression.

Me: "Pop, what's the Spanish word for 'lime'?"
Pop: "I think 'lima'."
Me: "And what's the Spanish word for 'lemon'?"
Pop: "'Limon'."

Okay, that is consistent.

Me: "But the Jarritos lime flavor translated itself as 'limon'."
Pop: *eyes me suspiciously*

Perhaps this is a mystery best left unexplored.

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos.
Color: Light fluorescent yellow-green. Similar to Mountain Dew. The flavors may be all natural, but that color is only found on poison dart frogs, I think.
Scent: Tart, sweet. Sweeter and stickier that the scent of Sprite or 7-Up, but a little more tart than the smell of Mountain Dew.
Taste: About like it smells. Closer to Sprite than I would have guessed, but with a bit more syrup. To me, most of the lemon-lime sodas have tasted mostly of lemon; this has more lime, and then throws some more sugar in. Between Mountain Dew and Sprite.
K-i-C: *grimace* "Like Gatorade, only less salty".
Actually, fairly nice. The aftertaste is sweet and pleasant, almost floral. That's quite a surprise; in my experience, aftertastes are rarely good.
K-i-C: "It's the color that gets to me. The taste is nice, but the color is Repo Man-ish."

I'm pretty happy with this.

JAT: "Bleah."
Interesting. The Junior Assistant Taster is typically very fond of--well, almost anything sweet. I wonder why this is an exception.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Nice, with an especially pleasant aftertaste. Actually lemony and lime-y.
Cough rating: 0.5. Just a hair syrupy.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Strawberry

2010-07-16T12:58:00.000-07:00

It's cleaning day at the Lab. My mother (RoTalMomska, who has been a guest reviewer before, with the Dry Soda Co: Juniper Berry) will be visiting the Lab for a few days, and the tottering piles and strata of Lab debris (entirely scientific, I assure you!*) might not present the most welcoming atmosphere. Thus, the Lab staff has been busy with scrubbing, polishing, and disinfecting** endeavors.
It's hot, though, and time for a break.
Thus, while the Lead Assistant Tester and his friend .$O" (that is his chosen pseudonym, not a failed attempt at HTML) work their way through Guitar Hero***, I have decided to continue the Jarritos odyssey.

Today it's Strawberry (Fresa).

Welcome to the tasting!
It gets Weirder every day.
You learn to quaff the oddest things
With tuna melts for pay.
If you got a hunger for what you read,
(which may not seem likely).
You can have anything you want,
And write a guest review for me!
In the tasting...welcome to the tasting!
It'll bring you to your n-n-n-n-n-knees.
Some more Jarritos, please!

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos
Color: Transparent red with a hint of orange.
Scent: Sweet, darkish, a bit of strawberry sundae syrup.
JAT: "Cherryish. Cherry Coke-ish."
LAT: "Bleah. Syrupy."
Taste: It's sweet, but not overwhelmingly. There is a hint of fruity taste--could be strawberry--but it passes oddly quickly. Somewhat tart, but again, not as much as I would have expected. The taste fades, leaving just the impression of having quaffed, but not a lot of evidence.

I guess strawberry is closer than anything else, but it's not all that strawberry-ish. It's not all that anything-ish, really. It's like slightly acidified club soda which has just a touch of strawberry syrup in it.

JAT: "Meh. Eh. *ptui*"
.$O": "Mmmm! Mmmmmm! Ah!" *sighs* "Best thing I've tasted in years!" *quaff* *squeak with delight* "Well, months. Weeks? It's good." *quaff* "Mmmmmmh!"

Well, I guess that's a mixed opinion.

K-i-C: "Tastes like a raspada. It should be colder. And chunky."

It's tasty, as far as it goes...it just doesn't go very far.

Quaff rating:2.0. Tastes okay, but not worth it. .#O" might disagree.
Cough rating:0.0. Nothing to object to either.

*And amenable to investigation by archaeologists.
**In certain cases involving the bathroom, this can involve either large rifles or unspeakable occult rituals involving the summoning of the Great Old One L'y-Sol.
***Unfortunately, there is no option to do "I'm a Pepper, You're a Pepper, He's a Pepper, She's a Pepper...wouldn't you like to be a Pepper too?"

Jarritos Variety Pack: Lime

2010-07-15T16:09:00.000-07:00

Today, there's Jarritos Lime.

The first thing that pops to mind about this one is the translation. The label claims this is "Jarritos Lime (Limon)". My Spanish is extremely poor, but that didn't seem quite right--I would assume "limon" would be "lemon" in English. So I talked to my wife, whose Spanish is better.
Me: "How would you translate 'limon'?"
K-i-C: "Lemon."
Me: "Not 'lime'?"
K-i-C: "No, that's 'lima'."

I figure that to be safe, I should get some other opinions.

Me: "lemon lime"
Google Translate (English->Spanish): "lima-limon"
Me: "No, not the combined flavor. Lemon. Lime."
Google Translate (English->Spanish): "Limon. Lime."
Me: "Okay, let's go backwards to check. Limon. Lima. Lime."
Google Translate (Spanish->English): "Limón. Lima. Lime." (Yes, I double-checked.)

Okay, that didn't help. So I did a Google search, and ended up reading an argument about the proper translations of English "lemon" and "lime" vs. Spanish "limon" and "lima". According to at least one person in that argument, in Mexico, "limon" refers to the English "lime", while "limon real" refers to the English lemon (and is rare in Mexico). "Lima" refers to some other citrus fruit.
Except, apparently, in Michoacan, where "limon amarilla" refers to the English "lemon" and "limon verde" refers to the English lime.
Except, apparently, in Puerto Rico, where "limon" refers to the English "lemon" and "lima" refers to the English "lime".
Except, apparently, in Venezuela, where "limon" refers to a small green fruit (probably the English "lime") and "lima" refers to some very rare fruit which you never see.
Except, apparently, that in many areas "limon" refers to any number of citrus fruits, including English lemons and English limes.

...and the argument continued.

As to what this is, please allow me to quote Lt. Commander Data, whose summary applies well here:
"It is green."

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos.
Color: I'm tempted to call it "lime green", except it's not. It's very close to the Gatorade sold as "lemon-lime". Pale yellowish-green, slightly translucent.
Scent: citrus, tart, but not extremely sour like a limon. (Ha ha!) A bit sweet, slightly bitter. Probably lime.
Taste: Similar to the scent, but a bit more sour. Pleasant, very sweet, somewhat heady but with no lingering on the tongue (like the Guava did). Kind of similar to lime jelly candy--not the Jujyfruits version, but the soft, sugar-crusted Sunkist type.

Pretty nice. Like most Jarritos I've had, a bit overly sweet, but pleasant enough.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Tasty.
Cough rating: 0.5. Still too sweet.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Mandarin

2010-07-13T17:43:00.000-07:00

You may have noticed that the Kibbitzer-in-Chief was not quoted in the previous review (Jarritos Guava). If you read that review, you now understand how valuable her input is to the reports issued by the Lab, and the problems that can arise without her presence.

She was not exactly pleased with the results*.

In any case, she's here now, and so with a more sober mind we shall move on to the next item in the Jarritos pak: Mandarin. Whether a mandarin orange is the same thing as a tangerine is apparently a source of some debate, but most sources I have found suggest that mandarin and tangerine are, if not identical, then very closely related.

So we'll call this Mandarin and/or Tangerine flavor.

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos
Color: Translucent bright orange. About the same color as freshly squeezed orange juice, but more translucent and no pulp.
Scent: Pretty close to actual tangerine.
K-i-C: "It smells familiar. I'm trying to place it."
Me: "Tangerine?"
K-i-C: "Could be."
Sweet, a strong bitter citrus undertone.
Taste: Fairly mild. Quite sweet, but not utterly cloying. The bitter citrus is more understated here, with the dominant flavor being a fairly mellow, not-all-that-tangy pleasant citrus.
K-i-C: "The guava was better."
It's sweeter than the guava, and more artifical in taste.
JAT: "Mmm! Tastes like Orangina."
I disagree; Orangina tastes very much like actual orange juice, with the full tang and bitterness thereof. This forgoes most of the complexity of real fruit for a dominant sweetness and mellow mild citrus. You wouldn't mistake this for carbonated fruit juice.

Quaff rating: 2.5. Not bad, but could be better.
Cough rating: 0.5. Not sweet enough to provoke an adverse response.

* I believe the exact quote when she read it was "Eww. That's really disturbing," followed by some odd sidelong glances and suspicion.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Guava

2010-07-12T15:50:00.000-07:00

Second in our perusal of the Variety Pack donated by Jarritos is Guava, or Guayaba. I haven't had a lot of guava sodas (or juices, for that matter). When I have, the main impression it has left on me has been of slightly sweet musky thick pulp, which--while possessed of a certain cheesy-romance-novel sensuous quality--is nevertheless not exactly my favorite thing.

However, in honor of that particular tenuous connection...I think we have found a suitable theme for today's review.

TO FONDLE THE FORBIDDEN GUAVA

Sunset was Joanne's favorite time of day. As she walked through the gardens in her royal-blue track shorts and lace-trimmed halter top which showed off the exquisite contours of her supple, tanned leather harness, the gathering cool of the approaching dusk allowed her to release some of the tension in the strong yet feminine muscles of her upper back. Beads of sweat fell from the honey-colored bangs in front of her eyes and ran down into the shadowed valleys beneath her collarbones. It had been a long day, but he never minded performing the..."special services"...she was uniquely suited to render to the master of the house.
Even when she had first come here, little more than a girl, she had loved the lush gardens around the master's house. She remembered that day so clearly--how she had stood in the dress with that preposterously short skirt, feeling so exposed and vulnerable, feeling his gaze travel over her. His eyes, looking up at her, and his voice, husky, saying that yes, she would do, she would serve well--and her surprise and finding herself not appalled, but actually eager...

"Joanne?"

That same husky voice drew her from her reverie, making her gasp. It was as though she was feeling his arms again, his hands on her neck, her shoulders...

"Joanne, come on. We have so much more to do today."

With a start, she realized that it WAS his hands she felt, as he sat in his usual place. His heels kicked at her sides, urging her to go on, to go further, and she responded with her usual desperate eagerness to please.

She stepped further down the row, a delicious shiver of pleasure racing from her neck down her spine to a deeper core within her as the whine and buzz of the motors sounded just behind her left ear. The tiny puffs of ozone from the sultry, overheated circuitry tantalized her, making her tremble. The burnished, articulated bionic arm extended langorously up, and delicately plucked the guava from the branch where it had slowly ripened over the months before. Now it sat in the sharp-edged hand, its slightly wrinkled skin pressed firmly to the gleaming metal surface of the seven digits and palm within which is was held, in an inescapable embrace.
But why would it want to escape?, she thought. Why would it want anything else?
The master's voice sounded from just above her head.
"My batteries are running low, but I think I want one more. Hold this one for me, won't you?"
The arm swiveled gracefully and released the fruit, and it fell into her arms. For once, she was the one to hold it, to feel it against her own milky, smooth, scented skin. The guava--this guava, this very symbol of fertility--she couldn't wait any longer. She had to possess it, to consume it, and she couldn't wait any longer.

The juices ran down her chin as the pulp rose to the surface, responding to her insistent squeezing. In the total abandonment of her enjoyment of the guava, her eyes closed, long lashes catching the last rays of the setting sun filtered through the leaves of the garden, she didn't feel the weight shifting in the harness.
When her eyes opened, she found herself staring into the half-metal, half-flesh face of the master, who had climbed from the harness onto the top of her head. His four legs clutched gently at the elegant shape of her head, and the red gleam from his right ocular prosthetic reflected the warmth of his cybernetic heart as he watched her sensual pleasure with evident enjoyment.

"I hope you saved some for me," he crooned delicately.

Where and when: donated by Jarritos
Color: Translucent pink. Not quite hot pink. Maybe the pink of the blush on the cheek of a...er...never mind.
Scent: Unexpectedly not that sweet. Melonish, mild, a tiny bit acrid. Fruity.
Taste: Rather a lot like the scent. The initial taste has a core of sweetness, but the sides are fairly tart, and there is a lot of melon-y volatility. It's pretty good. The aftertaste doesn't get very tart--no more than the initial tartness around the side. The headiness does linger, interestingly, and feels like it's staying in the top of my mouth.

I like this one quite a bit more than the fruit punch. This actually tastes a bit like fruit. It's still quite sweet--maybe just a touch too much so--but not as cloying. Much more refreshing.

Quaff rating: 3.0 Quite nice.
Cough rating: 0.5 Maybe the tiniest bit too sweet for me.

Jarritos Variety Pack: Fruit Punch

2010-07-11T15:57:00.000-07:00

The other day, the Lab computer system alerted me to the arrival of an email. Now, this is not such an unusual event; we receive email on a semiannual basis* regarding our reviews. However, despite our busy schedule, I felt it was important for me to see what sort of correspondence awaited.

Lo and behold, we had received email from Jarritos itself! Not only that, but the folks at Jarritos were offering to send us samples of their product for review.
Now, I was somewhat surprised by this. Jarritos is a major soft drink maker; their products are ubiquitous in Mexico (and much of Southern California). I've had several of their flavors before, and reviewed one (Tamarindo) for the Lab.
A couple of quotes from that review:
"There's a strange aftertaste, too--to me, for reasons I'm not sure of, it made the image of licking a basketball come to mind."
"...that sour/bitter flavor is probably what makes me think of pre-vomit saliva, and what makes the K-i-C think of armpit sweat."
"Tastes kind of good, but not as good as bad."

I can only imagine what went through the minds of the corporate officers of Jarritos in deciding** to offer me a sample pack.

Corporate Researcher: "Hmm...ladies and gentlemen, it appears that an anonymous person in north San Diego county has posted unfavorable comments about our Tamarind flavor!"
Marketing executive: "Ye gods, man, surely not! Why, this is an atrocity! A disaster of epic--even Biblical--proportions! The thought of someone...disliking...our soda..." [breaks down in a storm of piteous weeping]
Corporate president: "There there, O Noble VP of Marketing. All is not lost! Surely, by some malign providence...I wouldn't be surprised if it were owing to the agency of an ill-natured fairy...this 'Quaffmaster' was the recipient of adulterated soda."
All: GASP!
Corporate president: "Alas, it may be so. Quickly, mobilize the Postal Division. We must send this 'Quaffmaster' samples drawn directly from the pure wellspring of Jarritos itself, that he may see the error and remove this besmirchment, this unspeakable blight, this HIDEOUS CYCLOPEAN STAIN OF SHAME AND HORROR from our corporation. Indeed, until this is done, let all of the bottles henceforth be shipped wrapped in black ribbon, bearing the legend 'Honor Requires It'."

Clearly, I would have to honor this peace gesture.

After a short wait, a box containing a variety of Jarritos flavors. I will now embark upon an odyssey of Jarritos flavors, ending in a return to Tamarindo, and reporting at each stage of my journey.
And, as usual when reviewing sodas sent by corporate sponsors, I will attempt to ensure the high standards of objectivity you have come to expect by inviting the contributions of GALT, our official anti-bias artificial personality.

GALT: I'M JUST %@#$^ING THRILLED TO BE BACK.

Well, we'll begin with Fruit Punch (a.k.a. "Tutifruti").

Where and when: Donated by Jarritos
Color: Bright red, fairly opaque. Really, an impressive scarlet.
Scent: To my surprise, when I try to twist off the cap of the bottle, it doesn't come off and I damage my fingers. Amazing--I'll actually need the bottle opener.
Quaffmaster: "Lead assistant taster! Fetch me the bottle opener!"
LAT: "Yes, master!"

The scent is a bit darker than most fruit punches--more berry, less citrus.
LAT: "I can smell it from here. Smells like Cherry Coke, except more watery."
Maybe. Kind of like a very strong red Gatorade, with a bit of grenadine.
Actually, on second smell, it's more like Welch's grape soda than anything else. I used to have Welch's grape soda by the pool, when I was a kid. That smell, the smell of hot concrete and chlorinated water...they all go together...

GALT: WHAT THE HELL IS THIS &@@#? NO &@$#!ING REMINISCENCES, QUAFFMASTER. IT SMELLS LIKE SOME GRAPE SWILL YOU HAD IN YOUR IDYLLIC @!$%^ING YOUTH. FINE.

Yes. Anyway.

Taste: Hmm. Not what I expected at all. Very sweet, almost syrupy, with a moderate amount of carbonated bite. The major flavor is berryish or cherryish, not grape, and it's pretty thick. It lingers strongly in the mouth. Not unlike grenadine, but a bit thicker. Aftertaste is somewhat orangeish. Pretty strong, and would be too sweet to be a good thirst-quencher. On the other hand, it's a fairly nice strong cherry taste. Not sour cherry, or even black cherry--it's more like maraschino cherry. Artificial-tasting, but it is made with real sugar.

GALT: IT TASTES LIKE CHERRY-FLAVORED DEXRON %#@$ING THREE, YOU NITWIT.

No, it's not that bad, but it is awfully syrupy.

Me: "LAT, would you try this and give me your opinion?"
LAT: "No way."
Me: "Oh, come on."
LAT: (quaffs) *grimace, spit* "Very sweet."
JAT: "Mmmm! Good." *pause* "For some reason, the taste is familiar."
LAT: "I like it." *quaff* "It's not bad." *pause* "It's kind of good, sort of."

I guess the LAT has mixed feelings.

K-i-C: *quaffs* *grimaces* *gags* "Here you go." *hands the bottle back* "Oh God, the aftertaste is awful. Is there anything real in that?"

A bit more grape-y than Hawaiian Punch.

Delayed aftertaste: pretty sour.

Quaff rating: 2.5. The taste is okay; I've had much worse cherryish things.
Cough rating: 1.0. Very syrupy, which doesn't bother me that much, but would undoubtedly bother others. Such as half the Lab staff.

*If that.
**Because I'm absolutely SURE this decision was made at the highest levels of the Jarritos corporation.

Kvass Ochakovskiy

2010-05-16T22:12:00.000-07:00

Okay, admittedly, I had to guess on the name of this one.

The Kibbitzer-in-Chief returned from one of her mysterious "go somewhere other than the Lab for a while" missions with a can of something yellow and an odd smile on her face.
"It's called Kvass," she said, "and apparently it's popular in Russia."
The can was extensively labeled...in Cyrillic.

As a scientist and Quaffmaster, I do try to keep a cosmopolitan worldview. I try to sample Weirdness from around the world. Heck, we've even tried something from Antarctica!* But Russia is a new one for me. I'm out of my depth, and need to consult with an outside expert.
My good friend who shall for the moment remain nameless--a fellow scientist--was over the other day, helping put up gutters on the Lab.

Me: "So, GFWSFTMRN, you read Russian, right?"
GFWSFTMRN: "Yes."
Me: "What the heck is this stuff?"

My friend proceeded to describe Kvass. Apparently, in Russia, this stuff is brewed up from stale rye bread by the kegful and sold on street corners. It's technically a fermented product, but the alcohol content is very low. According to some quick and superficial research, for a while it was displaced by Coke and Pepsi, but it has made a recent comeback based on nationalist pride.

I'm going to quaff Russian nationalist fermented rye bread. I have the greatest calling EVER.

Color: Dark caramel brown. Slightly lighter than most colas. A pretty orange-brown, medium carbonation.
Scent: Malty, but less bitter than Malta Hatuey.
Me, to K-i-C: "Here, smell."
K-i-C: *GAG COUGH CHOKE BLEAH*
It's not that bad. Slightly spicy, strong malt, a bit of root beer/cinnamon.
Taste: Oh...my. Not nearly as sweet as I expected. A fairly strong beer/hops flavor, also a strong taste of carbonation (which is odd, given that the carbonation is pretty mild).
There's an interesting malt flavor. It's actually fairly mild, tends to linger around the top.
Me, to K-i-C: "Want to try it?"
K-i-C: "No." GAG COUGH GAG ALMOST PUKE BLEAH
She tries several times, but is actually unable to sip any.
K-i-C: "Can you make beer out of raisins?"

Hmm. I guess I can taste what she means. With the bread, it's kind of like bread pudding soda.

The aftertaste is fairly lemony, acid, with a slightly-sweet beer-like note.

This may be one on which the K-i-C will have to disagree. I kind of like it. Not a lot--I don't think I'd go down to the street corner for a refreshing cup of Kvass--but it's far better than some things I've had. If I were a beer afficionado, I would probably appreciate it more. Still, a big "Spasiba!" to the makers of Kvass. Pretty good stuff.

K-i-C: COUGH BLEAH ICK ICK ICK SHUDDER BLAAAARGH

Or maybe not.

Quaff rating: 2.5. It's not exactly splendid, but I can see the appeal.

Cough rating: 1.5 (for me). I'm betting the K-i-C would go to about 4.5.

*And just in case someone should comment on this (see comments in linked review): yes, I know it's not from Antarctica.

Malta Hatuey

2010-05-14T12:17:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those months? A month in which your Federal grant money* runs out, the bill collectors come calling, you find yourself in a forest lean-to somewhere east of Manitoba with nothing but a hatchet, two pieces of French toast, a Greek-Pashto translating dictionary/thesaurus, and a bottle of Stewart's, and you're somehow on the no-fly list? A month where the only sounds you hear are the frenzied pounding of your heart while you desperately search for an opening in the ring of mutant fungi surrounding your crashed interceptor, and the thin, detestable whining of noisome flutes accompanying the rhythmic undulations of unknowable blasphemies, ceaselessly writhing and flailing around the nethermost bubbling blight at the center of all the worlds? A month where the fish ain't biting, the birds ain't singing, and the jam ain't pumping, probably because of the oceanwide bloom of lethal dinoflagellates which is only narrowly being kept in check by your unsung efforts with a colander and an eggbeater?

You have? Wow. That's terrible. Gosh, we've just been busy with other stuff here at the Lab. I had to build a Lego model of Fallingwater as if it were designed to Sauron's specifications, for one. That took a while. But finally, with sheepish grins and shifty eyes, we're creeping back to the bench. And waiting thereon is one I've been looking forward to for a while: Malta Hatuey.

Now, it's pretty much self-evident why this qualifies as a Weird soda. It's named after the sound of loogie-hawking. That's pretty darned awesome, as well as Weird. It further describes itself as a "non-alcoholic cereal beverage", and is adorned with a drawing of a stern-faced native American. He looks really, really unhappy, and a bit sad. If I were to guess as to his thoughts, they might be something like

"Alas. Not only have my people been ravaged by smallpox, cheated, lied to, and forced from our ancestral homeland...now I am associated with Malta Hatuey. This is a #@%$-fest of truly EPIC proportions."

The ingredients list includes barley malt, fructose, corn syrup, "mellomalt", caramel malt, and hops. I have no idea what "mellomalt" is. My mind keeps trying to associate it with Mallomars, which is (hopefully) incorrect.

Color: Dark, dark brown, and mostly opaque. Kind of thick. Dense foam.
JAT: "Looks black to me."

Scent: Like Cinnamon Toast Crunch, except with beer instead of milk.
JAT: "Smells bad. Bleeeaaaahh."
LAT: "Smells kind of like molasses. Molasses root beer, actually."

Taste: Well, it's definitely malty.
Me: "Want to taste it?"
LAT: "Errrrr....wellll...uh...I don't know. Is it toxic?"

I give him some.

LAT: "It tastes like...actually...it doesn't taste like much. It tastes like a more bitter molasses, that only lasts, like two seconds." *smacks lips repeatedly, pauses, smacks lips again* "Hmmm." *Smacks lips*

JAT: "Ah...bah! bleaaah! Bleeeaaaah!" *goes to bathroom*

K-i-C: "Smells like blackstrap molasses." *sips* "Tastes like patent medicine. Mmmmm, nutritious."

In a remote, mountainous region, in a facility constructed of basalt and rough-hewn cedar, wizened alchemists are even now combining coffee, caramel, Whoppers, motor oil, beer, sawdust, cinnamon, and amaretto in their attempts to create the Philosopher's Stone. This is a byproduct of that quest.

Quaff rating: 2. I'd be pretty unlikely to seek this out. Bitter, strange. But then, I'm beginning to think that malt beverages aren't my thing.
Cough rating: 2. Definitely a grimace, but not a gag.

*National Quaffing Institute Grant EWW-12722, "Investigation of Relative Gustatory, Olfactory, and Spectrographic Parameters of Carbonated and Non-Carbonated Beverages and Their Impact on Pleasure/Pain Psychological Dynamics in Recipients", principal investigator Quaffmaster, T.

Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel

2010-01-16T10:25:00.001-08:00

It's good to be reminded, now and then, that one is not alone. When I started this blog, I was the only person I knew with my calling--to quaff all which is quaffable (and to attempt that which turns out to be emphatically NOT quaffable). My family knew, from early on, that I was a bit odd. I was that kid who stood by the soda fountain and made ten squillion mixtures of different flavors of soda for no apparent reason.
This love of flavor mixtures did not extend to food, of course--I would recoil in horror if one of the foods on my plate touched another. Who knew what sort of unholy reactions might take place between green beans and yams? I saw "Them!", and "It Came From Beneath the Sea". I know what happens when you mess with nature. Don't let the food touch, for the love of God, lest it wreak a horrible vengeance upon us all.
And pass me some more of that Coca-PepperSquirt, please.

Mad? Mad, you call me?! They called me mad at Oxford, too. But I'll show them!

Anyway, shortly after becoming the Quaffmaster, I found that there were, in fact, others who shared my peculiarity. I became part of the worldwide Weird Soda brother- and sisterhood. If you look along the sidebar of this blog, you'll find links to a number of other websites (including an entire organization, the Obscure Soda Lovers Organization, or OSLO) run by others on the Quest. However, one in particular came to my attention: Soft Drink Reviews, Exotic and Non, run by my distinguished Quest Elder, Tim H. Tim shared not only my affection for sweet bubbliness, but also my love of tentacled things and general geekitude. Plus, he has a cool beard.

Tim did a fine review of Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel recently, in which he not only carefully assessed the gustatory nuances of this latest Mountain Dew variant, but also deftly dissected the use of art on the cans, the subtleties of orc armor and various incarnations of the Platonic "Orc" in media, and the difficulty of finding studio space in Brooklyn.

Then I got the email.

An email from Tim himself, offering to share his booty with me!

Er. The word "booty" here refers to "treasure" or "precious objects". Specifically, he had extra cans of Gamer Fuel, and wanted to share them with me. The generosity of the offer put tears in my eye. Another Weird Soda lover--my elder, whose work had become an inspiration to me--was offering to send me soda.
*sniffle*

And yesterday it came--but that wasn't all he sent. The contents of the box:
1) Two cans (red and blue) of Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel, complete with Bottle Top can-to-bottle conversion units. These are spiffy little plastic contraptions which snap onto the top of soda cans and have flip-up bottle-type sealable lids. They are awesome.
2) A pencil
3) a standard six-sided die.

So my sincere thanks, Tim! I'll see if there is some way I can reciprocate.

NOTE: Mountain Dew Gamer Fuel is specifically associated with World of Warcraft, a game I have intentionally avoided after seeing the crack cocaine-like addictive effects on those who play it, and the haunted, scarred look in the eyes of those who have stopped. I'm sure that both the figures depicted on the cans, their armor and weapons, and probably subtleties including the number of nose hairs in each orc nostril have specific names and deep significance in the WoW mythos. I say this not out of mockery--I have deep respect for obsessive detail in fantasy and science fiction mythologies--but rather out of a desire to acknowledge my ignorance. Lest I draw aggro*, I won't even try to guess about any of it. Please feel free to enlighten me in comments.

Inspired by the artwork on the cans, and by Tim's review, I have decided to invite two guest reviewers to help with this review. The first is Orthog, an orc of the Crusted Fingernails clan, whose image graces the red can.

Orthog: ORTHOG GLAD TO BE WITH PUNY HUMAN TODAY.

Also with us at the lab is L'haerni, a glowing-eyed elf warrior maiden, featured on the blue can. The dominant word to describe her is "pointy"; her midriff-baring armor bustier seems to be made of overlapping triangular leather fragments, her shoulder armor has pointy eaves, and her ears are very pointy. Plus, she has elegant eyebrows which extend out at least six inches from either side of her face. They must be waxed. Can you have epic waxing?

L'haerni: Your insolence is noted, mud-spawn. However, I will forgive it on this occasion.

Me: Thanks to you both for joining us today in the Lab. Now, Orthog...that's an interesting name.
O: "ORTHOG" SHORT FOR "ORTHOGONAL".
Me: Really? Orthogonal, as in "perpendicular to"?
O: ORTHOG FORM RIGHT ANGLE WITH GROUND MOSTLY. EXCEPT WHEN DRUNK.
Me: I see. I notice that your can is labeled "Dew With a Blast of Citrus Cherry Flavor".
O: CHERRY FLAVOR COME FROM CRUSTED FINGERNAIL CLAN SECRET INGREDIENT. CLAN NAMED AFTER IT.
Me: Well, I'll look forward to trying that.
L: No you won't. You'll enjoy mine much more. The flavor in my can is an extract of the T'lithia berry, which grows only on mountain peaks struck by lightning. The berry is crushed gently by hand, and the sparkling, milky juice stirred thrice with a spoon of pure gold. It is then aerated with winds from the deep forest, exposed to sunlight atop the ancient temple of Hru at dawn on the solstice, and kept in the catacombs of Mnar for three centuries before we add it to the drink.
Me: It says "Dew with a Punch of Wild Fruit Flavor".
L: It loses something in the translation.
Me: Well, let's get this quaffing started. Well begin with your can, Orthog.

Where and when: generously donated by Tim H, December 2009
Color: Surprisingly, bright orange. It's slightly cloudy, not perfectly transparent.
O: ORTHOG FIND IT REMIND HIM OF MURDEROUS GLEAM IN EYE.
Me: Ah.
Scent: Stronger than standard Mountain Dew. Strong citrus and sweet, but with an oddly smoky component. If you added a tiny bit of lapsang souchong tea to Mountain Dew and upped the orange content significantly, you might get this.
Taste: Quite strong, *extremely* sweet. There's a powerful cherryish tone, sweet to the point of syrupy. I actually like the flavor well enough, but it's so incredibly sweet it's hard to drink. Imagine Mountain Dew mixed about 2:1 with the liquid from a jar of Maraschino cherries.
O: THAT THE SWEET TASTE OF VICTORY. AND SECRET INGREDIENT.
Me: You keep mentioning this secret ingredient. You said the "Crusted Fingernail" clan was named after it?
O: YES. CLAN FOND OF SHARPENING CLAWS ON CHERRY AND ORANGE TREES BEFORE DISEMBOWELING PUNY HUMANS AND PONCY ELVES.
Me: How fascinating. This is actually a good example of how something can be high on both the quaff and cough ratings. The flavor is nice, and would be nice at about a fifth the intensity.
I note with interest that this has 46 grams of sugar per can. Compare that with about 40 in a can of regular cola.
O: PROVIDES NICE ENERGY BURST TO GET THROUGH LONG DAY OF HEWING.

Quaff rating: 3.5. The flavor is pleasant.
Cough rating: 1.5. Good googly-moogly, it's sweet.

O: BUT STILL HAS POSITIVE WSR INDEX. GOOD. NOT HAVE TO EVISCERATE QUAFFMASTER NOW.
GALT: DON'T YOU EVEN %@##%!ING THINK OF THREATENING THE QUAFFMASTER, ORTHOG. I'LL &@*% YOU UP SIDEWAYS WITH A @#$*ING SPORK IF YOU THREATEN THE NEUTRALITY OF THIS REVIEW.
O: HERE. HAVE CLAN MEMBERSHIP APPLICATION.
GALT: RIGHT $$@^*ING ON.

Next, we have L'haerni and her can of blue fruity goodness.

Where and when: also generously donated by Tim H, December 2009
Color: A frighteningly intense shade of blue. I'm talking BLUE blue. Also slightly cloudy.
L: As if one had distilled the very essence of the twilight sky?
Me: Yeah. Blue.
Scent: Lighter than Orthog's brew, and cooler in tone. Orthog's made me yearn for the heat of battle. This makes me imagine starlight glistening on a huge pile of key limes and oranges heaped on the soft moss on a riverbank.
ORTHOG: HUMAN STRAYING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO PONCY.
L: Be quiet, you great baboon. I know that riverbank well.
Taste: No smokiness here. This has more pear and flower notes than rough-hewn iron and burning villages. It is, however, also almost appallingly sweet, although not quite as much as Orthog's can. The flavor is a bit smoother.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Nice.
Cough rating: 1.0. Not quite as sweet as the other one.

They're both still recognizably Mountain Dew, but I think they are distinctly different enough that I could tell them apart in a blind test.

Actually, let's find out.

The Lead Assistant Taster is helping me. I've cleared my palate with a drink of water, and closed my eyes. He has handed me the first cup.
Mmm...a bit rough, pleasant, very sweet. I think it's probably the orange one, but let's wait a moment. Clear the palate. Now the next.
Um.
Wait, no, this one is the orange. Isn't it? In retrospect, compared to this one, the other was a bit cooler. This one must be the orange. Let's go back and make sure.
Er...no. I think this one is...wait...well...let's try the other one.
Oh, crud.
*I hold up the second one.* Me: "Orange?"
LAT: "Nope."

How fascinating. I can't, in fact, tell them apart. When I taste them knowing which is which, I think there's a difference--but it is smaller than I thought.

It's almost as if there's a point to be made here--something about how two sides in a conflict can actually have deep similarities, and how their differences can be mostly in the presentation and the perception it engenders, but an objective assessment shows them to be nearly indistinguishable.

O: SOUND LIKE QUAFFMASTER IS SAYING WE MORE SAME THAN DIFFERENT.
L: I concur. Quickly, Orthag--we must silence him!

How when one discards what one is told to think about two opposing sides--when one tries to really see them for what they are, rather than what we are told they are--we can find that the conflict between them is largely manufactured by other interests who profit from the rivalry.

O: PUNY HUMAN MUST SHUT UP OR DIE.
L: Indeed. Silence, or face my blade, worm!

GALT: OUR %$@*ING INTEGRITY DEMANDS ACTION.
Me: Orthag, L'haerni, wait...those faces...they're just masks!

*pulls them off, revealing two identical scruffy-bearded men*

L'hag and Orterni: AND WE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT, TOO, IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOU MEDDLING WSR LAB STAFFERS!

*This is the extent of my mastery of WoW jargon, and I'll bet I even got it wrong.

Hank's Gourmet Vanilla Cream

2010-01-14T08:54:00.000-08:00

At the Weird Soda Review Tasting Labs, we try to be aware of our roots. We attempt to properly recognize where we came from, and to do all appropriate honor to our ancestors. For indeed, they are the very wellspring of our life,the providers of sustenance in our childhoods, and the instillers of all of the neuroses and psychological disorders which give our adulthood such flavor.
Yes, I'm talking about our parents. Today, I am deeply honored to be hosting my very own parents, visiting from my ancestral homeland of Topeka, Kansas. RoTalMomska, my mother, and Sergeant-at-Arms, my father, have been visiting for a few days, hanging out with the grandkids and studiously avoiding me whenever I approach with a bottle and a certain manic gleam in my eye.
Well, no more!
They're leaving today, and I have cornered them. Plus, I won't drive them to the airport until they participate in a Review. However, in due deference to the debt I owe them (and hoping to avoid disinheritance), I have decided to exercise some discretion and offer something which I have some reason to believe will be good. We're going to try some Hank's Gourmet Vanilla Cream Soda.

As my hypothetical loyal readers know, I am particularly fond of cream soda, and have greatly enjoyed exploring the many varieties thereof. I don't think Ive ever tried Hank's, though, so this should be fun.

When: purchased December 2009 by the K-i-C at some mysterious location which she refuses to divulge
Color: Transparent. Could have the very faintest hint of yellow, but probably not.
RoTalMomska: "The same color as the glass it's in." Yep, I got my scientific nature from somewhere.
Lead Assistant Taster: "Clear with bubbles."
Sergeant-at-Arms: "Enduring bubbles."
Scent: Sweet, slightly sharp.
LAT: "Smells like vanilla soda."
LAT: "Vanilla cream. OH! Oh, oh! It just has a bit of a Coke smell."
S-a-A: "Bubble gum?"
LAT: "No, more of a spicy smell."
I don't smell the Coke, but the vanilla is definitely there. Sweet, and I do smell the bubble gum.
Taste: Definitely of the sweet vanilla variety.
S-a-A: "Banana."
Interesting. I don't taste it...well, maybe.
LAT: "A more pear-ish vanilla cream soda."
S-a-A: "A little bit of the bubble gum."
LAT: "I like it a lot!"
RTM: "I find it unremarkable. Pleasant, but unremarkable."
Me: "Remarkable is usually a bad thing in Weird soda."
RTM: "I would like this better if it had a bit more of a bite to it."
S-a-A: "Yes, it's a little too soft. Like bubble gum. After you chew it for a while."

It's very, very sweet, with a light French vanilla flavor, and a fairly strong bubble-gum note. We've seen that bubble gum before, and I don't usually like it. It's more like the Faygo than anything else.

I wouldn't call this "gourmet". It's not bad--pleasant enough--but really not subtle or unusual. It's a very sweet, bubble-gum, light vanilla cream soda. However, the LAT and JAT are currently waxing rhapsodic about how wonderful it is, and how when they are adults they will place themselves into abject poverty due to having spent all of their money on Hank's Vanilla Cream Soda, and will gladly sell all of their vital organs to survive save only the pancreas, because they need the insulin due to the high sugar content of Hank's.
Inspecting the ingredients label for evidence of some sort of age-specific addictive chemical, the only thing I find which is unusual is the final ingredient, "quillaia". I've never heard of it.
But Wikipedia has.
Apparently, it's an extract of the bark of the soapbark tree, and is used to make sodas foamy.

So what is Hank's made of? A children's rhyme comes to mind...

"Sugar and soap. Is it worth it? Nope.
That's what Hank's Gourmet is made of."

Quaff rating: 2.5. Not unpleasant, but too sweet.
Cough rating: 0.5. A tad overwhelming.

Neurobrands Neurogasm

2010-01-04T20:58:00.000-08:00

We at the lab are not prudes. We're modern, scientifically-minded folks, capable of discussing most any matter like civilized adults (well, those of us who are adults, anyway). Even topics which might produce blushes in those who are more inhibited can be brought up in a dispassionate manner, and discussed without undue frivolity.

And so tonight, we'll be reviewing Neurogas...*giggle*...er...hee hee...

Er. I'll try again.

The other day, as I perused the aisles of Primo's Market on a barbecued-pork-rib-acquisition mission, I paused on the soda aisle to see if anything new was available. I was delighted to find one I hadn't seen before, called Neur...uh...heh heh...Neurogas...*giggle*...

Dammit. Is this the Weird Soda Review Lab, bastion of scientific quaffitude, or is this the Institute of Going A Bit Red in Helsinki?*

All right, here goes.

Neurogasm Neurogasm NEUROGASM NEUROGASM NEUROGASM!!!

Er. Okay.

Yes, tonight's Weird Soda is called "Neurogasm". It stood out a bit on the shelf at Primo's, and I certainly couldn't pass it up.
Firstly, it's called "Neurogasm". And the bottle has an unusual, streamlined shape.
Second, as it happens, I have a degree in neuroscience, and thus I had to investigate it as a part of both my professional lives (as a neuroscientist and as the Quaffmaster).

So, let's review the claims of Neurogasm. First, it displays a sagittal** view of the human head, with a superimposed waveform of some sort, probably meant to evoke the potential idea of EEG. Next to this is the slogan "GET SMART" (presumably not a TV show reference), and "play the healthy way". Below this is the further text "passion in every bottle.

Hmmm. The bottle is implying that the beverage within will make you more intelligent, more passionate, or both.
On the back, it says:

"Have fun...with modern science's greatest blend of natural passion enhancers," followed by a list of ingredients which (presumably) are supposed to have some sort of beneficial physiological effect.

At least it doesn't suggest that you "Feel the Fizz", as the Zuberfizz did. In context, that would be...well...*giggle*...

It seems that Neurogasm is supposed to make me more able to have some sort of passionate fun by filling me full of "science's greatest blend of passion enhancers". It is interesting to note that a substantial fraction of these enhancers are also found in other energy drinks, which make no claims regarding passion. Several of them are simply amino acids, the building blocks of proteins. And one is straight-out caffeine.

Hyperactive and passionate. A recipe for good lovin'? Well, let's find out.
Soberly, scientifically, and in a dignified and objective fashion, of course.

Where and when: purchased January 2010 at Primo's Market, Vista, CA
Color: reddish-purple, mostly opaque.
Scent: Tart, sweet, fruity. Fairly harsh.
Taste: Odd. The initial taste is fairly acidic, not all that sweet, with some citric tang. That stays more or less unchanged, but is joined by...nothing. It's a very odd thing. It's as if you added an equal portion of straight carbonated water, diluting the taste, but not until it's been in your mouth for a few seconds. I don't think I've ever tasted that before.

K-i-C: "Tastes like slimy Hawaiian punch."
Punctilius: "It's got more pineapple than Hawaiian Punch." *swigs, grimaces* "Not bad. Not good either. Not much of anything, actually, not remarkable. I certainly don't feel any sort of spasm. Or any gasm. Spasm-gasm."

That's a good description. It's not unlike Gatorade crossed with Hawaiian Punch and carbonated, except less distinctive. It's sort of aggressively blah. It leaps forward, grabs your lapels, forces you to look it in the eye, and then hums "Girl from Ipanema". This does not inspire me to passion, I fear. Beyond the name, this Weird Soda is approximately as sexy as Trident gum. And not the cinnamon flavor.

Quaff rating: 1.5. No real reason to drink it; the name is the most exciting part.
Cough rating: 0.5. Not particularly unpleasant.

* I was unable to walk past a Victoria's Secret store in the mall without blushing until I was almost 18.
** I have to use the word "sagittal" to establish neuroscience cred. It means side-view.

Zuberfizz Key Lime Cream Soda

2009-12-30T14:30:00.000-08:00

It's a happy occasion at the Weird Soda Review Lab. Today, we have visitors who are interested in participating in the quest. The visitors are mostly from a family near whom we used to live, who are visiting from Denver. Anglophilia, Ph.D. is a health sciences and policy consultant, and is accompanied by her children, Mikey and The Moose. Also present (and adding significantly to the international credibility of the Lab) is Yue, an exchange student from Tsingtao, China. Unfortunately, they arrived one day too late for the Jones Tofurky and Gravy Extravaganza (although they did sample it, and their comments have been added to that review), but we can instead offer them something which might be somewhat more palatable. Today, we have Zuberfizz Key Lime Cream Soda.

Where: purchased at Cost Plus World Market
Color: Teal--that is to say, a bluish green. Mostly green. Not perfectly transparent, and despite the label ("Feel the Fizz!"), not particularly strongly carbonated.

Anglophilia: "Looks like lime jello."
Kibbitzer-in-Chief: "Wow, that's not the color I expected."
JAT: "It kind of reminds me of alien planets."
Moose: "It reminds me of goop."

It looks familiar, but I can't quite place it. And then it hits me: it's halfway between the neon green and dark green translucent Lego colors, as seen in canopies and windows, especially in the Space lines of the 1990s.

Scent: Very sweet, but not without some interest. A darker/mellower note, which for some reason makes me think of the work "foresty". The lime and vanilla are there (lime much more than vanilla). Not much tang. The lime is close to that scenting Sunkist lime jelly candies.

Anglophilia: "Mmm! It's refreshing."
Yue: "Mint...lime..."
Anglophilia: "I'm sensing a hint of lime jello."
K-i-C: "A broad hint."
Anglophilia: "And something about Pine-Sol?"
K-i-C: "That could be it. Like dish soap."

Taste: Very sweet, nicely mellow. The lime is reminiscent of lime Jolly Rancher, but not as tart at first. The tart does come out slowly and mildly after a few seconds. Cream is faint, but noticeable if you look at. Not much beyond what one would expect in key lime. Fairly tasty, inoffensive except that I'd like more tart and less sweet.

JAT: "Yummy!"
Me: "Not quite as lime Jell-o-ey?"
K-i-C: "No, more Pine Sol-ey."

Apparently, the K-i-C is not so fond of this one.
K-i-C: *pours hers into the JAT's cup*

Anglophilia: "What would this go with?"

This is a question which, to my knowledge, has never come up before. The K-i-C is a good cook, but we rarely consider trying to combine Weird Sodas with actual food. Anglophilia is proposing a course of analysis which is heretofore unexplored.

Anglophilia: "A blackened steak with Cajun seasoning."
K-i-C: "I'm thinking salmon."
Me: "But you don't like salmon."
K-i-C: "Well, yeah. But it would look so pretty next to it."
Anglophilia: "Beef Wellington!"
K-i-C: "It would be good with lamb."
Anglophilia: "And scalloped potatoes. Or mac and cheese."

Well, there you have it. Zuberfizz Key Lime Cream Soda is a very sweet, moderately lime-flavored soda, in which the cream aspect is minor. However, it is pretty tasty. And, apparently, it would go well with roasted leg of lamb, blackened Cajun steak, or boxed macaroni and cheese. Alert your nearest sommelier; the 2009 Zuberfizz Key Lime Vanilla Cream is the vintage of choice.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Would be higher with a bit less sweet and more tart.
Cough rating: 0.5. No particular urge to retch.

Jones Soda Tofurky and Gravy

2009-12-29T21:39:00.000-08:00

The Kibbitzer-in-Chief is, without a doubt, the best wife (and research assistant) EVER. She is one of those rare people who doesn't like chocolate--and yet she willingly makes brownies which are outstanding morsels of moist chewy rich chocolatey goodness. She doesn't much like soda, but she consistently finds samples of the Weirdest Weird sodas around.
And this season...she has outdone herself.
For lo, she did order for me a package of Jones Soda, which includes three bottles of their 2009 Thanksgiving special holiday flavor, Tofurky and Gravy.

Verily, I tremble in anticipation.

Jones Soda has been putting out unbelievably Weird products around the holidays for several years. In previous years, there were often four unique flavors (such as Green Bean Casserole) in a holiday pack. Ive never been able to get my hands on them before, so I have never had the privilege of sampling one...until now.
This year, it's just the one flavor...but what a shining paragon of Weirdness it is!

Also in the package were three bottles of their new "Zilch" line, which are sucralose-based zero-calorie versions of existing flavors. I'll review those soon, but they'll have to wait their turn.
Also in the package is a metal Tofurky lunchbox. Yes, a lunchbox. It features cartoon drawings of anthropomorphic vegetables--possibly soybeans--performing as part of the Cirque du Tofurky.

That's pretty breathtakingly Weird, yes...but then you come to the bottle. No, wait, that should be capitalized. And italicized.
The Bottle.

First of all, it is labeled "Vegan".
There is no sugar in it.
There is sucralose, but it is the eighth ingredient. Preceding the only sweetener are (in order): carbonated water, salt, natural and artificial flavors, glucono delta lactone, modified food starch, caramel color, sodium benzoate and potassium sorbate. Following sucralose are ester gum and medium chain triglyceride.

Yes, this soda is the only one I've ever seen which contains more salt and starch than sweetener. I'm not sure what "modifications" the food starch has undergone, bu according to the nutritional facts, this contains no carbohydrates, so it must be something which modifies them beyond recognition by human digestive enzymes.
This soda contains actual triglycerides.

My God, what madman concocted this?

Reluctantly joining me for this most joyous occasion are the Kibbitzer-in-Chief (who doesn't get to dodge this one) and Punctilius, who has earned her place as the one who not only managed to drink Biotta Digestive Drink, but also (through liberal dilution with raw honey) made it consumable without retching. Not enjoyable, true, but drinkable.

Where and when: purchased directly from Jones Soda, December 2009 (a day which will indeed live in infamy)
Color: A muddy, translucent dark amber. Cloudy, but without visible particulates.
Me: "K-i-C, would you care to register an opinion on the color of this beverage?"
K-i-C: "I don't think you really want me to do that."
Me: "Please?"
K-i-C: "It looks like toilet water, and that's the most polite way I can put that."
Punctilius: "Looks like blood in urine."

Hold the presses. There are tiny bits of floating...something...in there.

Scent: Faint. Salty. Like tears or blood. A bit sweet.
K-i-C: "It doesn't have a strong smell, luckily. Wait, I'm trying to get my nose closer." *does so* "Ugh. There's the turkey."
I don't smell it, but as I get closer, there is a faint hint of something like meatiness.
Punctilius: "The smell's not too awful."

Wait, this is too historic an occasion. I must record it for posterity. I'm going to mike myself. I'll attach an MP3 of the recording, somehow, to this blog post.

Taste: Ummm...hmm.
K-i-C: "UUUUGH."
Punctilius: "It's not that bad."
K-i-C: *spits it back into the cup*
Punctilius: "I kind of like it."
K-i-C: "You're a sick, sick woman."
Punctilius: "I would be if I drank a whole bottle."

The initial taste is pretty sweet, actually, with a strong undertone of saltiness. The Tofurky flavor is faint, barely detectable. However, a few seconds after the sip...the gravy strikes.
And therein lies the horror.
The gravy seems to be the source of the saltiness, but the really bad thing--the thing which even now I can feel corroding my soul--is the hint, the little hint, of fat. That slight tone of greasiness somehow, like a single word whispered into your ear from across a dark room where you thought you were alone, manages to contain a sensation which causes ones viscera to freeze and recoil.
Disgust is the semi-digested flavor of Biotta and Abali.
Horror--REAL horror--is in that hint of grease in Jones Soda Tofurky and Gravy.

I'll try a smaller sip.

No, that's worse. The greasiness hits much sooner with a small sip. The rest really isn't so bad--certainly not a refreshing drink after a hot day of work, but really not as bad as it could be.

I am astonished to find myself wishing that Jones had left out the sucralose. If I'm going to drink a Tofurky and Gravy soda, then it shouldn't be sweet. In that sense, the sucralose really detracts from the authenticity. It gives it the surreal, vertigo-inducing character of a dream, rather than the prosaic, woodcut-like, Norman Rockwell-ish sense of a family Thanksgiving dinner.
Although at some houses, that dinner might also fall under the "surreal, dreamlike horror" label, I suppose.

*swig*

*shudder*

Yep. The greasiness is bad. Not as immediately grotendous as some things, but pretty awful.

I do so love my calling.

Quaff rating: 2.0. Some of the taste is sort of pleasant.
Cough rating: 3.0. Some of it REALLY ISN'T.

UPDATE: Twenty minutes later, my stomach is cramping and I can still taste the greasiness.

FURTHER UPDATE, THE NEXT DAY: Our visitors (described in the review of Zuberfizz Key Lime Cream Soda) decided to try the Jones. Their reactions:

Anglophilia: "It's like carbonated dishwater! It's like carbonated dishwater on Thanksgiving night!"
Yue: "I just recalled my memory of my grandmother making medicine for my asthma. This was worse. I've never had anything worse than that."

She seems really horrified. This may not be the best way to introduce a visitor to the USA.

Yue: "At first, it's a little bit salty." *waits* "It's...I can't tell what it is." *waits some more* "Not as bad. Can I have yours?"
Anglophilia: "Enjoy!"

Okay, maybe it's not so bad after all.

Click me to hear the initial quaffing.

Spirit of Koiwai "Kirin" Yogurt Taste

2009-12-28T12:13:00.000-08:00

You know, the Weird Soda Quest is inherently masochistic. We go out, find the strangest stuff we can, drink it, and if it's particularly unusual, we count that as a Good Thing. (Note that "unusual" does not inherently imply "unusually good"). Thus, it makes a sort of sad, twisted sense that, while out at Mitsuwa, when I beheld Spirit of Koiwai "Kirin" Yogurt Taste on the rack before me, the internal conversation went something like this.

Me: "Oh my God. A Japanese yogurt soda-like thing. I didn't know they had yogurt soda-like drinks in Japan. Isn't lactose intolerance more common there? Why would they subject themselves to such a thing?"

Me: "You know what sorts of Weird drinks they have in Japan. This isn't all that strange in comparison."

Me: "True. But think of the other yogurt sodas we've had. Those were unbelievably foul."

Me: "Some of the commenters say they're good after trying more. They're probably an acquired taste. Maybe you should try this one, and expand your horizons. Plus, look at the ingredients. This has sugar. And remember your mission. It's all for the mission! You must not fear."

Me: "Hmm. I suppose you're right. It's certainly Weird. Your arguments are compelling. Come, let us purchase and quaff it with joyous abandon. And if copious vomiting should follow, then we shall wear the splatters as badges of pride."

GALT: YOU #$*&@ING NUMBSKULL.

So now I see before me a bottle of Spirit of Koiwai "Kirin" Yogurt Taste. According to the ingredients list, it does indeed contain sugar. And soybean polysaccharides. And milk powder. And lactic calcium acidulant. I think I'm going to quaff it.

GALT: NO! NOOO! G%$@#$&!MIT, NO! SOMEONE STOP HIM!

Where: purchased at Mitsuwa Marketplace
Color: Thinner than the Abali--resembles watered-down skim milk. Slightly translucent, white.
JAT: "Kind of dark white."
LAT: "Creamy."

Scent: Sweet smelling, with the milkiness definitely present. Smells like sweet fruit yogurt.
LAT: "Kind of smells like cherry yogurt soda"
JAT: "Yeah, kind of. It kind of stays in your nose."

Taste: Not bad at all. Tastes almost exactly like fruit yogurt, but thinner, like very thin milk.
LAT: "Peachy!"
JAT: "Yeah!"
They're right. It does taste almost exactly like peach yogurt. Almost none of the lactic acid taste--very little acid at all. Not carbonated at all.
The lead and junior assistant tasters like it a lot. They're currently chanting "Yummy...yummy...yummy..." and smacking their lips.

My horizons have indeed been expanded, although this "yogurt drink" is so utterly unlike the previous yogurt sodas as to be completely different beverages. Actually, this is almost too sweet, but in small doses it's quite pleasant.
The main differences between this and the Abali are the presence of sugar, the lower viscosity, the lack of acid, and the lack of carbonation. I'm pretty sure that carbonation and thickness are not the problem, and while I like sweet drinks, I'm not inherently afraid of those which are not. It must be the acid taste--that horrible "already digested stomach contents" taste--which makes the other yogurt sodas so much worse.

GALT: YOU DODGED A %@#$ING BULLET WITH THIS ONE, QUAFFMASTER. DON'T %@$$#ING EVER DO THIS TO ME EVER AGAIN.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Very nice, if slightly too sweet.
Cough rating: 1.0. The milkiness is still off-putting to me, but not really bad.

Fentiman's Full Bodied Shandy

2009-12-23T12:09:00.000-08:00

Though ages passed, and stars did wax and wane
And through their courses sped, regarding not
The man who stood below, his cup in hand
Awaiting word from some dark god, he thought,
The word which to his lips would tip the cup
Which, ever-filled with brews sublime or foul
Would spell his fate until again he quaffed.

The word has come, and now the bottle found
Which on this day gustation shall offend
The brew shall doubtless lead me to expound
To mark my fate, my immemorial end

--The Quaffing of the Brew, Act II, Scene 3

A very happy holiday to you, dear hypothetical readers. It's been a long time since Ive been able to fire up the Lab. One reason--a good one, more or less--is that I've lost almost 40 pounds. While this is a good thing for my health, the effort to avoid calories has made it more difficult to justify the quaffing of such wondrous delicacies, most of which are laden with wonderful, wonderful sugar. Sweet, delicious, delectable sugar...

Er. Anyway, I believe that as Christmas nears, I can justify occasional consumption of something interesting. Plus, it's not truly a festive occasion without the risk of retching, is it?

Of course it isn't.

Today, we at the Lab will be trying another find of the Kibbitzer-in-Chief's: Fentiman's Full Bodied Shandy. You may remember how successful some of her other finds have been. I'm sure I needn't remind anyone that the two most hideous things we have ever consumed here--the Biotta Digestive Drink and the Abali Yogurt Soda--were both K-i-C acquisitions.

Which, come to think of it, she avoided drinking...

In any case, we've had Fentiman's before. One of the first things I reviewed was their Dandelion and Burdock soda (one of the rare weed-flavored Weird Soda variants). This one is a Shandy, which is apparently beer flavored with lemonade or ginger ale. However, this bottle specifies that, while it is made with traditionally brewed beer, it contains very little alcohol. Like the other Fentiman's, the label says "Best Before: See Neck", but the neck bears no indication of an expiration date.
It occurs to me that it does not specify the neck of the bottle. Perhaps some other neck? Upon inspection in the mirror, my own bears no such inscription. Perhaps it is borne within the shandy itself, in some sort of rod-logic-containing nanotechnological system. After consuming it, the nanosites will migrate to my neck and form a subcutaneous organic LED display, which will read "It's expired. You're gonna die."

Oh, what the heck. Take me to Shandy-town!

Where and when: I have no idea where she finds these things, but it came to the Lab in December 2009.
Color: A fairly rich yellow-orange, like a nice apple juice.
Scent: Quite pleasant, actually. Lemonade-ish, with just a hint of creamy bite.
Taste: Huh.
Okay, this is a complicated one. The initial taste is tart and lemony, followed quickly--a few seconds--by a growing nuttiness, which must be the beer. This is underlaid by an interesting combination of tart and bitter/creamy. It's pretty similar to some of the lighter beers I've tried--wheaty, crisp, citrusy. The lemonade is mostly in the initial taste, then hides around the edges.
Actually, it's very good. Let's see what the young'uns think.

Lead Assistant Taster: "Smells nice, kind of like a cross between root beer and apple cider. *quaffs* Sweet, but the aftertaste is kind of bitter. And the aftertaste rolls along with the taste."
Junior Assistant Taster: "Uuh. Doesn't smell that good. *quaffs* Doesn't have much taste."
LAT: "The aftertaste is like grapefruit!"
JAT: "I can't explain the taste." *runs off to the back yard*
LAT: *runs off with him*

I'm honestly quite surprised that they liked it as much as they thought.

Me: "You know, this has beer in it."
LAT: "Beer?"
JAT: "That's what beer tastes like?" *sounds hopeful*
LAT: "Actually, that's not that bad, is it, then?"
JAT: "That's what beer tastes like?" *runs back to the backyard, faintly overheard* "I guess I wouldn't mind trying beer sometime."

Oh, good.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Tasty!
Cough rating: 0.5. The nuttiness would be off-putting, if you didn't like beer.

Hello Kitty Ramune

2009-11-17T13:33:00.000-08:00

Cameron's review of Shirakiku Ramune Melon reminded me that I have several bottles of various Ramune flavors in Lab storage. One, in particular, seemed Weirder than the usual, and so I think we should start with that. Joining me today are the Junior Assistant Taster and the Kibbitzer-in-Chief.

Today's Weirdness is Hello Kitty Ramune. This flavor is Weird beyond my experience; cat-flavored soda will be a new frontier for us. The label prominently features a rotund white cat wearing a wetsuit and clutching a surfboard. In her (?) fur a hibiscus flower is displayed. How she can have become so rotund or have the energy for surfing without a mouth (a feature conspicuously absent) is unclear; I am guessing that this cat is either a genetically-engineered photosynthetic plant-feline hybrid (which might work well for a surfer, given access to plentiful water and sunlight) or is hooked up to some sort of intravenous nutrient delivery system out of sight I note that her lower body is not shown on the label.

The label specifies this as a "carbonate soft drink", and suggests "for an even more delicious this drink, chill before drinking". Alas, this one is only partially chilled.

While the ingredients list does not list cat as one of the components, it does mention "artificial flavors". This could, presumably, include Hello Kitty, especially if she is the aforementioned lichen-like semi-plant hybrid (which should qualify as artificial). Fortunately, true to the scientific nature of the WSR Testing Labs, we have an exquisitely tuned piece of equipment here which will allow us to detect the slightest hint of cat--that being the Kibbitzer-in-Chielf, whose immune system responds to the presence of cats by attempting to cause her to explode.

Unfortunately, we don't have time to go through the proper K-i-C calibration procedure (namely, shoving a cat under her nose and making sure her detector system is working), so we'll have to assume she is functional and proceed.

Where and when: purchased sometime in September at Mitsuwa Marketplace, West Los Angeles, CA
Color: JAT: "Clear." I believe he is referring to the color, rather than indicating his understanding or Scientological status.
Scent: JAT: "Slightly cherry-ish." I would call it closer to citrus--it lacks the roundness of cherry. Quite sharp and biting, sweet. I do see what he means--there is a fruity note.
Kibbitzer-in-Chief: *grimaces* "Smells like childrens' Tylenol." But she says that about a lot of artifical sweet things. No evidence of allergy attack is evident. "Like fake bubble gum."
JAT: "Yeah. Fake bubble gum."
As an experiment, I think I'll test whether he's just very compliant/suggestibe.
Me: "I'd call it kind of dirty sock-like. What do you think?"
JAT: "Dirty sock like?" *considers* "No."
I think he just likes the K-i-C better. Understandable.
Taste: Blech.
JAT: "I kind of like it." Of course.
Me: "What would you say it tastes like?"
JAT: "Horrible at the end. It feels horrible at the end. Something dry rubbing against the inside of your throat."
Me: "So do you like it or not?"
JAT: "The beginning, yeah. It's fine."

The very first taste--as in the first half second--is more or less blameless, just sugar water with some bite. Not nearly as much citrus bite as the scent suggests, though. However, After about half a second, there's an odd watery, slightly bitter taste which emerges and runs alongside the sweet. It's reminiscent of tap water. This gets stronger toward the end.

K-i-C: *sniffs* "Uh, the smell is much worse now that it has more surface area." *drinks, is speechless for some time, while frowning and smacking her lips. Finally...*"Luckily, it's not very strong." *pause* "Eh. It has a bad aftertaste."
JAT: Wouldn't you say the beginning is fine?"
K-i-C: "No, because that's when you smell it."

The fact that the K-i-C has not yet broken out into hives suggests to me that there is, in fact, no cat in this.

I've had Ramune which is enjoyable, but this does not fall into that category. However, I have to give the makers credit for accuracy; I respond to this about as I do to the actual Hello Kitty. Right at first, it's vaguely cute and pleasant, but immediately becomes vapid and pointless, and finally leaves you feeling abandoned with nothing but featureless, nondescript vaguely sweet memories with no character and a growing sense of the futility of the whole enterprise.

It is possible, of course, that the K-i-C's cat-detection capacities were nonfunctional. Perhaps in a future review we can revisit Hello Kitty Ramune, once my marriage has been reinforced sufficiently that the calibration process would not result in severe damage to the calibrating individual.

Nah. So not worth it.

Quaff rating: 1.5. Really, not worth it at all.
Cough rating: 1.0. Blech.

JT Super Lemon Soda

2009-11-12T12:21:00.000-08:00

Cameron's excellent foray into the Shirakiku Ramune world inspired me to unearth the small treasure-trove of acquisitions from Mitsuwa Marketplace which resides in a box under the bench in the corner of the Lab. Even as I made my way down the corridors which wind their way through the catacombs, I could hear it calling me, its voice echoing softly off the roughly-hewn walls.

"Commala-come-come, cupslinger. Ahead it awaits. Your ka, your destiny. Come."

As I knelt before the bench, I saw the labels of all of the Weird sodas which I had quaffed before before my eyes. Sweet Blossom. Oogave. Even Biotta and Kombucha Wonder Drink, as if they were new and yet unquaffed, and the miles and memories did not lie between us, as they now did.

"I remember you all. Yes, all, and I will speak your names here at the foot of the Lab bench."

As I chanted the names of the Weirdness, I heard once again the voice speak to me. Was it the voice of the Tower--Ves'ka Gan? Or perhaps the voice of the Beam?

But no, it was the voice of the Soda. Ves'ka Can.

"Welcome. But your journey is not yet done, cupslinger."

I reached the bench, and drew out the box. Indeed, there it lay, at the very back of the box. A small can, with what looked like a comic strip printed on it. In the comic, a woman raised a can (the same can? If I looked closer, would I see the same comic? Worlds within worlds within worlds, of course--this can was the linchpin of all time, space, and size, and such was to be expected) to her lips. In the next frame, her face had drawn back in a rictus of shock. A small explosion was taking place in her mouth, and the words were shown emerging.
"OH! Powerful Soda!" she exclaimed.
Of course, I thought. Powerful indeed. The source of all power, if the Canni-folk could be believed.
But as I extended my trembling hands to seize it at long last, from where it lay in the back of the box, it tipped toward the rear. And as it teetered, I felt worlds--all the worlds which whirled around its axis--tipping along with it.

It rolled, slowly at first, then with increasing speed, off the back and past the rows of boxes of ladyfingers, shortbread, and cakes which I had athered for the feast days--those confections which were to have ended the meal. I rose, moving with the utter lack of grace which had carried me shamefacedly out the door of a hundred merengue lessons, and pursued. As I had always done.

As I would always do.

The can in back fled across the dessert--and the quaffmaster followed.

Where: Purchased at Mitsuwa Marketplace
Color: Clear--perhaps ever-so-slightly cloudy, but only the tiniest bit.
Scent: Very strong citrus, but sweet. Reminiscent of lemon jelly candy, or maybe very sweet grapefruit.
Taste: *boom* OH! Powerful Soda!
Very, very tart--like a sour worm or sour Gummi Bear. Actually, tastes a lot like sour worms. Sweet, but very tart.
The Lead Assistant Tester is fond of putting lemons in the freezer, impaling them on a stick once they are cold, sprinkling them with sugar and sucking on them. I'll bet they taste a bit like this.
JAT: *eyes pop out, makes a number of interesting faces, pants* "Aaahh...huh...lemony. Sour soda!"
Fairly tasty, actually, but very very tart. Effectively liquid sour candy.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Not very subtle, but reasonably tasty.
Cough rating: 1.0. I like the tartness, but it's almost overwhelming.

Guest Review: Shirakiku (Ramune Drink) Melon

2009-11-06T22:02:00.000-08:00

I am absolutely thrilled to introduce our first guest review! Cameron, who has commented several times on other reviews, has offered his opinions on the melon flavor of Ramune (a common and oddly bottled Japanese soda). Here he is; everything from here on out is Cameron:

Greetings readers.

I've been enjoying this blog for quite a while now and have communicated a few suggestions to The Quaffmaster but have decided to step into the light in order to share my experience with a couple of decidedly weird sodas that I came across while poking around my local Cost Plus World Market. Expect a subsequent review or two in the near future.

The first is sitting in front of me right now. It is one of two flavors that I picked up from the Shirakiku brand, known only as 'melon'. I've never trusted generic food names plopped upon specific foods (fish sticks and meat loaf spring to mind as worryingly under-described). I wasn't particularly scared about a melon flavored soda. Further adding to the mystery is the label which isn't overly helpful at determining what sort of melon I should expect as it features what looks like either a mutant or unripe cantaloupe with the characteristic textured skin but green flesh. There are some Japanese characters prominently featured on the label which may yield more information, but alas, I do not read Japanese. The word 'refreshing' is repeated on the bottom of the label which may or may not bode well for the soda.

The bottle is truly remarkable. I can honestly say I've never experienced or even heard of a beverage container like this in my entire life. The top of the bottle is shrink wrapped like any typical water bottle, concealing the weirdness within. The wrapper is plastered with some very specific instructions on how to enjoy this beverage:

How to open
1. Remove the seal from the top. (okay, no surprises here, oh wait, as I unwrap the seal a piece falls onto the table)
2. Detach the plunger from the center of the cap. (plunger? oh..if you push on the center of this ring thing it splits into two)
3. Place the plunger on top of the bottle. (I should note that the top of the bottle is ordained with a transparent but optically distorting window into the fluid below. And lookie...this plunger fits in the center thing)
4. Press down firmly with the base of your palm to release the marble. (should I be pushing this hard? I have visions of sweetened broken glass flying everywhere. oh wait...*plink* down goes the marble into a specially designed groove two thirds of the way up the bottle where the bottle necks down into a smaller than marble opening)
5. Throw away the seal, cap and plunger.
6. Have fun drinking Ramune.

From what I can gather, the plunger was held upwards by the pressure of the drink and perhaps a little gasket thing too. Amusingly, when I pour it into my cup, complete inversion temporarily reseals the bottle and halts the flow of the liquid.

I shall adopt the Quaffmaster's standardized review structure for the rest of my guest review:

Where and when: Bought at Cost Plus World Market this morning
Color: Green. Jolly Rancher green, but liquid.
Scent: A very light artificial fruitiness
Taste: Bitter and not nearly as sweet as the color would suggest. Despite the label's proclamation, this is not refreshing. The lack of sweetness allows the peculiar bite and bitterness to dominate. There's some sort of artificial fruitiness in the background that could conceivably be termed melon, but I don't see it. Certainly nothing resembling actual melon. The bite fades fairly quickly into just bitterness which then fades further into a not-awful generic sweetness aftertaste. Luckily the bitter doesn't stick around too long, though it's just as present with subsequent sips.

Quaff rating: 2.0. Not too enjoyable to drink
Cough rating: 1.5. The bitterness is distasteful but not long lasting

Upon noticing the marble sitting in its semi-circular one dimensional hammock, I began contemplating the best way to recover this unique souvenir. Despite the admonishments of both the shrink wrap seal and the label itself, I tried to pry the cap off. This didn't work. I plan to break the bottle after I finish the review to obtain my marble. How annoying is it that child safety features designed to save the lives of small children will actually force me to endanger mine so I can play with the shiny thing rolling around in the bottle?

I shall transcribe both warnings in order to absolve the Skirakiku brand, Nishimoto Trading Co. LTD of Santa Fe Springs, CA and the Quaffmaster of any legal responsibility related to my impending trip to the emergency room.

Warning!
DO NOT SWALLOW THE PLUNGER. Throw it away immediately after opening.
Adults should open the bottle for small children and supervise drinking
Do not try to remove the marble from the bottle to avoid injury
Do not freeze the bottle or store it in direct sunlight
Do not consume if the marble is broken, missing or descended before opening.

Do not swallow the plunger. Throw it away immediately after opening
CONTENTS UNDER PRESSURE, OPEN CAREFULLY

Journey Siberian Sun Ginseng Brew

2009-11-03T11:48:00.000-08:00

This is a new one. To date, just about everything we here at the Lab have quaffed can be categorized into one of the families of Soda. Cream soda, citrus soda, fruit soda, root beer, cola...the tried-and-true, well-known families.
Well, maybe not. We've actually discovered families of Weirdness which I never new existed--yogurt sodas, for example (the reviews of which have generated some controversy). We've taken much joy in exploring the many types of soda, testing some boundaries, and experiencing Weirdness in its many-splendored glory.

Today, I have one which I don't quite know how to classify. The Mysterious Stranger left this splendid donation in my mailbox. It's a "ginseng brew"...and I don't know how to classify that. I suppose it might be something along the lines of a ginger ale or ginger beer, except ginseng? The label calls it a "Softbrew", which apparently (from the description) is effectively a ginseng tea which is then sweetened and carbonated.

Well, all right then.

Where and when: donated by the Mysterious Stranger October 2009
Color: Dark reddish-brown. Not much of a head, so it ain't root beer.
Scent: Heh. Tea-like, not very sweet, slightly tart. A tiny bit chocolatey.
Taste: Buh...huh...wha? The initial taste is reminiscent of a cola with a touch of chocolate, slightly sweet, mellow and smooth.
This is immediately followed by a quite tart tea flavor, much like one of the Zinger teas, coming up from underneath. The tea is tangy, but not very distinctive. The light chocolate lingers overhead.
Really, the flavor is interesting, nicely smooth, quite drinkable. The dramatic change is intriguing. However, I don't really taste any ginseng--or, really, much of any distinctive flavor other than an initial cola/chocolate note, and that lightly. It's pleasant but bland.
I would have expected a ginseng brew to be spicy, biting, and heady, causing th one imbibing to be captured by visions of sunset hills, with quaint pagodas and ivory temples, verdant paths leading from one vista of misty loveliness to another still mistier and lovelier, surrounding a harbor whose headlands meet in a resplendent arch of crystal and on which a village with wharves of teak and granite clings to the rocky shore, where candles peep mellowly from windows draped with curiously embroidered curtains of red and gold damask.
This, on the other hand, makes me think of downtown Smileyberg, Kansas. That particular town consists of a single intersection at which an abandoned transmission repair shop commands a splendid view of the surrounding grasslands. I grew up in Kansas, and I learned to love the beauty to be found in the terrain. However, I do admit it is subtle, and probably an acquired taste.

I think this is sort of like that. Maybe with time it would grow on me, but right now it's a bit uninspiring for my taste.

Quaff rating: 2.5. Pleasant and mellow, but not really inspiring.
Cough rating: 0.5. Not much to object to.

Cherry 7-UP Antioxidant

2009-10-28T18:18:00.000-07:00

In the last two days, I've received two donations at my primary job. The first was from the Mysterious Stranger; I haven't done that one yet because I still haven't remembered to bring a bottle opener to work.

GALT: YOU STUPID @&%$#@!*ING %#$@. YOU'RE SO UTTERLY INCOMPETENT.

Well, yes. However, today I received a donation from a different source entirely. As I entered the classroom today, I found a can of Cherry 7-UP "Antioxidant" on the front desk. Cool! I had been meaning to try to find some for the Lab, and lo and behold, someone brings it right to me. Huzzah!
It turns out that it was one of my students. In keeping with WSR tradition, I asked this kind soul to choose a pseudonym by which she could be identified.

So many thanks, Pain-In-The-A**! (I swear that's the name she chose, I did not select it, so don't think I'm being rude or anything). And just so that we avoid any possible accusation of bias toward this student, GALT has asked that he be allowed to speak.

GALT: THANKS EVER SO %@#$*%ING MUCH. NOW I HAVE TO QUAFF YET ANOTHER SO-CALLED BEVERAGE. REST ASSURED THAT, IF IT IS AS MUCH LIKE PIG VOMIT AS I SUSPECT IT WILL BE, YOUR GRADE WILL DROP SO LOW THEY'LL BE LOOKING AT A SMOKING HOLE IN THE FLOOR OF THE LOWEST PIT OF HELL, WONDERING 'WHAT THE %@#$%@ WAS THAT THING WHICH SHOT DOWNWARDS THROUGH HERE AT NEAR-$@%#^*ING-RELATIVISTIC SPEEDS?' I DO LIKE THE NAME YOU CHOSE, THOUGH.

Er. Ha ha. Don't worry, nobody's grades are riding on this.

The can is bright, cheerful red, with a big cherry on it. Apparently, it is an antioxidant because it contains 10% of your RDA of vitamin E. I'll admit it will probably go down easier than a typical multivitamin. Other than that, it says that it is flavored only with natural flavors, which apparently means HFCS and other "natural flavors".

Where and when: Donated by Pain-In-The-A** in October 2009.
Color: Pink!
Scent: Bright and sweet. There is a definite smell of 7-up, but where 7-up is biting and citrusy, this is more mellow and fruity. It's still quite a bright scent, but I like it better than regular 7-up.
Taste: Interesting. The initial taste is not exactly cherry, more of a nonspecific "fruity" flavor. That lasts about two seconds. Then, at the edges of the tongue, this really interesting tart sensation creeps in. It overwhelms the mellow fruitiness, eroding its support like incoming tide undercutting the wall of a sandcastle. This barbarian tartness causes the walls of mellow fruitiness to crumble, allowing the hordes of synthetic cherry flavor to overrun the smoking ruin of the battlements.
So the tart leads to some cherry-like flavor, synthetic, but not like medicinal cherry. It's probably somewhere between pie filling and a sharp cherry soda. Overall, it's actually kind of pleasant. It's not all that complex, although the segue from bright and mellow to barbarian cherry onslaught is intriguing.

GALT: AS PIG VOMIT GOES, NOT HALF BAD. YOUR GRADE IS SAFE. FOR NOW.

Quaff rating: 3.0. Kind of nice, especially for a HFCS mass market soda.
Cough rating: 0.5. Really nothing to object to.

A request for help from other Weird Soda lovers

2009-10-23T12:41:00.000-07:00

A reader has asked for help. In a quest to provide familial affection, she is seeking the name of an obscure cream soda which I (to my shame) am not familiar with. She describes it as coming in a miniature barrel, about the size of a soda can, with a cork. It may be some sort of regional specialty.

In any case, I have not seen such a thing, nor have I been able to find anything out about it. If anyone out there is familiar with it, and can provide any information, please either leave a comment to this post or contact me by email (quaffmaster@weirdsodareview.com). Your contributions will be acknowledged in some way which I am sure will occur to me sometime soon. *grin*

Anybody heard of this Weird soda?

Sprecher Fire-Brewed Cream Soda

2009-10-23T12:19:00.000-07:00

So far at the Lab, we've only reviewed one of Sprecher's offerings--the Ravin' Red. It did not go well--not only did it make our "Weird in a Bad Way" list, it made me write a poem. And that's not usually a good thing.

We've decided to give them another chance, and try out their Cream Soda. Given my great affection for cream soda, I have high hopes for this; on the other hand, given the really unpleasant aftertaste of the Ravin' Red, I am prepared to have those hopes cruelly dashed. In short, I am prepared for anything.

Well, except for the newly discovered freaking enormous orb weaver that was recently discovered in Madagascar, Nephila komaci. *shudder* I might need a cape to be ready for that. I'm not sure I could possibly be ready for that.

Anyway. The JAT and I are going to give this Sprecher a try. The label names is "Sprecher Fire-Brewed Cream Soda". How fire is involved in the brewing process is not further described. The label features a picture of an anthropomorphic bee in a chef's hat, drinking from a bottle of Sprecher's cream soda while holding three other bottles with its other appendages. The bee seems happy about this.

He probably hasn't read about Nephila komaci yet. I looked that happy, too, before I read about that.

Where and when: purchased at Galco's, Los Angeles, CA
Color: medium amber. Darker than some, kind of the color of stained oak or maple. JAT: "Golden."
Scent: Honeyish and vanilla. There's an interesting acrid bitter scent in there too, faint. Not the bitter of beer--a more acid bitter. Honestly, the bitter of stomach acid, but very faint and not quite as unpleasant as that.
JAT: "Cherryish."
Taste: Definitely vanilla, the sweet kind--this is a little like the Faygo, in that it has a strong note of french vanilla ice cream.
JAT: "Vanilla!" He is apparently speaking in single-word sentences for this review.
Unlike the Faygo, however, this has an undertone of bitterness, but not like Bourbon vanilla. It's the same bitter from the scent--again, faint, but present. It shows up mostly in the aftertaste. The front taste is almost entirely French vanilla, with some honey-like notes. Quite sweet.
The bitter/acid is worse in the scent than in the taste; in the taste, it mostly comes out as an acid or citrusy kick at the end of the taste. I like the honey vanilla flavor, it's quite nice. The honey lends a complexity that a more pure vanilla cream soda lacks.
Sprecher seems to have an affinity for Weird and slightly unpleasant aftertastes.

Quaff rating: 3.5. Pretty good, nice smooth honey and vanilla.
Cough rating: 1.0. The unpleasant acrid scent makes the approach problematic.