2005-11-22 - 1:10 p.m.
Liquid Thanksgiving
Okay, while I'm waiting for the pastry to defrost (dammit), I have some time to update. Since this is Thanksgiving week, where some will give thanks for family, and some will give thanks for the fact that family lives far, far away, so there's no endless Thanksgiving Day "celebration" of Uncle Jim passed out on the sofa with a Bud Light and Mom and older sister Julie screaming loving endearments like "You suck!! I wish I'd never been born!" in the kitchen, Bob and I thought we'd celebrate in our own special way. To this end, Bob bought me a Thanksgiving present of the Jones Soda Co.'s "Holiday Pack". This is an assortment of flavoured sodas that are meant to give you all the joyful tastes of Thanksgiving in liquid form. (The non-alcoholic joys.) Yes, I was terrified, too - especially since Bob told me about the radio show he listened to where various people tried the sodas, and throughout the show there was a light background noise of retching from the female host. To be fair, she was pregnant, but still, being of a delicate (but not pregnant) nature myself, in that the wrong smell or taste can make me very, very, VERY nauseated, I felt just a wee tad trepidacious upon being presented with Turkey and Gravy, Wild Herb Stuffing, Brussels Sprout, Cranberry, and Pumpkin Pie soda. Bob promised he'd try all of them first and warn me if the results of my taste test would be more than usually unfortunate. We decided to taste test in the kitchen, because then if I needed to throw up, I could do so in the sink. We also armed ourselves with glasses of wine and cups of water for cleansing the palate. Right from the beginning we knew we were in for something special, since the box includes a wine list to drink with your... drink. They also included a spork, which confused me a bit, as I thought I was the only person in the world who actually drank juice with a spoon. (An affectation of my teenage years; I don't do it any longer.) (At least, not where people can see me.) On the box (this particular flavour combination is only available at Target), it mentions that $100,000 of the profit from sales of the soda will go to St. Jude Children's Hospital. A splendid gesture, I thought. They also say "Our Master Chefs have worked tirelessly to create the perfect, no carb holiday meal by using only the finest ingredients". That was more of a smart-ass gesture, but I still appreciated it. A glance at the nutrition information on the bottom of the box confirms that none of the sodas have any calories, so you don't have to feel guilty for trying them. (I solved the calorie problem by spitting most of them in the sink, but I'm getting ahead of myself.) Bob decided that we had put off the inevitable long enough, and opened the first bottle: Brussels Sprout soda (recommended wine: Columbia Crest Chardonnay, Vintage 1999). I can't even type it without gagging, and I *like* the damned vegetable. All the caps have a nice little statement on the inside; this one read "Don't be hasty; prosperity is just around the corner". If by that they mean a multi-million dollar lawsuit for "emotional distress", they may be on to something. Bob said "It kinda hits the roof of your mouth with a little brussels sprout, then the sugar [actually sucralose] and carbonation hits the back of your mouth". The he said "It won't make you gag". I tasted it, then said "I beg to differ". Spitting it out in the sink made no difference; I could still taste the sweet vegetable aftertaste, and even gargling with the wine (a nice German spatslese) didn't help that much. It was *rank*. I would like to point out here that Bob was *much* braver than me, and took actual swallows of the soda, whereas coward me took the tiniest of sips. I still felt that was too much once or twice. The Turkey and Gravy soda (recommended wine: Newton Pinot Noir, Vintage 2000) was the one I had actually seen on "Unwrapped"'s Thanksgiving special, so I was perhaps even less eager to try this one, seeing as turkey flavoured soda sounds like the perfect drink to go with the Food Bars of Satan[tm]. The cap said "Life to you is a dashing and bold adventure". Dashing. I prefer to keep the dashing to a minimum, if you get my drift, and I'm sure you do. Bob sniffed it, looked puzzled, sniffed with one nostril, then the other, sniffed after exhaling, turned to me and said "It has absolutely no smell". I took it out of the kitchen and tried to smell it, but the only thing I got was a faint chemical whiff. It didn't have *any* smell. Bob tasted it, frowned, tried some more, then said "you do *not* want to try this. It has no gravy or turkey taste, and... you do *not* want this". God help me, I tried it anyway. It was *very* sweet - so sweet it was sickly, with no hint of turkey. In fact, you know when you eat something too sweet, like cheap sweet and sour pork, then spend the next two hours burping it up? It tasted like that. Wild Herb Stuffing soda (Haywood Estate Morning Sun Zinfandel, Vintage 1997). The cap said "Your efforts will be well rewarded. Be patient". We laughed like loons at that one. Bob said "This has a smell that I recognize, but I don't connect it with stuffing. It's almost lime or lemon. The flavor [note American accent!] is closer to stuffing in the front part of your mouth, but as soon as it gets to the back, the carbonation is *powerful*. Sort of bland, but powerfully carbonated bland". He also thought it was the soda that got second closest to a real flavour after the Brussels Sprout. I thought it smelled like candy, and the taste was like sucking on one of those old fashioned seltzer bottle cartridges, complete with funny aftertaste (but no fun huffing "high"). It had almost no flavour to me, but there was a hint of something herb-like. Now, I *love* stuffing - even though I shouldn't eat it, it's the one side dish I will take anyway, then drown in gravy. I *love* stuffing. Alas, the love for the herb stuffing soda was strangled in the parking lot before it ever got to my mouth. Cranberry Soda (no recommended wine - try fermented Kool-Aid). The cap said "Functioning superbly will come automatically to you". Cryptic, but vaguely complimentary. We both thought "how can you fuck up cranberry soda? It's like juice with carbonation, right?" No. Bob thought it smelled and tasted like cranberry sauce - and the can the sauce came in. (We're a canned cranberry jelly family. I like the retro look of the little can ridges, and you can make it dance if you stand it on end and jiggle the plate.) I could not make the soda dance, but I could probably get a few moments of fun by shaking it very hard then handing it to an unsuspecting (but annoying) person and watch them open it (from a safe distance - this stuff is *red*). It would definitely be more fun than drinking it - it tasted like licking the can after the cranberry jelly has been decanted. The unbearable nothingness of cranberry soda, as it were. We saved the Pumpkin Pie soda (Fonesca Late Bottled Port, Vintage 1995) for last, because we made the mistake of thinking it wouldn't be that bad. Okay, okay, after the brussels sprouts and turkey soda, it *wasn't* that bad, but being a little bit better than gag-inducing isn't usually classified as "good", you know? The cap said "People will be willing to listen to you and could be willing to help". Heh. It's too late for that. Bob said "It doesn't taste like pumpkin - it tastes like crust. Like Laura ate all the pumpkin filling, and left the crust for me. "...and there's no whipped cream". I thought it smelled like winter squash. Old squash. Then I tasted it again and said "I'll be damned. It *does* taste like crust". Overall, I wouldn't recommend *any* of them. However, if you're feeling adventurous, and don't mind burping up brussels sprouts sweetness for days, go wild. I recommend Alka Seltzer, Vintage (see expiration date). ...Bob says make sure you have plenty of beer on hand. Drink the beer first.
Dorsal - Ventral
Funnier than me: James Lileks disclaimer!
all words copyright Laura Mellin 2000-2005
Diarist.net!
Designed by Gen
|