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Jones Soda Holiday Pack 2005| | We had our first annual taste test of the Jones Soda Holiday Pack tonight at work. Here's some excerpts (with the -ptuh) of another review, and what I thought, after my own harrowing experience:
First, the main course, Turkey and Gravy
"Now
joined by his four awful brothers, Dark Lord Turkey & Gravy has
returned to make your holiday season as putrid as possible. The aroma
is that of any storebought gravy mixed with Pine-Sol, while the soda's
color makes it well camouflaged in environments of organic sewage. Even
the label suggests terrible tales, featuring a boy staring at a wild
turkey in a way that just screams "I'm going to steal you, kill you and
juice you." The undefined leader of the Holiday Pack scared our taste
testing team far more than his subordinates..."
'The taste-testers would only agree to an inch-filled plastic cup's
worth, but I'm sitting here with a freshly opened case. I really want
to give each of the flavors a fair shake, so I'm going to sip 'em all a
few times before typing whatever insulting adjectives my fingers decide
to type. Having done that, I can safely say that "Turkey & Gravy"
does not
improve. You drink it once, it's awful. You drink it a dozen times,
it's still just as awful. Picture a really light gravy with a bunch of
dissolved Chocolate Riesens mixed in, and if you can somehow envision
this, add all of that to the strange taste one experiences when placing
their tongue on the action end of a 9-volt battery. The aftertaste is
the most critically panned aspect; it's like I went to the candy
museum, spotted the first ever produced Mary Jane candy, waited for the
security guard to tie his shoes and ate it. You'd have something worth
bragging about if you drank turkey soda, sure, but you're really not
looking to rinse and repeat.'
Really gross, but by FAR not the worst of the pack. It really did taste kinda like gravy at the end. The killer with most of the really bad ones isn't so much the smell (except for the Brussels Sprouts) or even the first taste (see previous entry), but the afters. After you swallow, you receive the most unsettling experience perhaps yet known to man: turkey soda vapours and burps.
Second, we had the entertaining, inoccuous and, honestly, pretty good, Cranberry sauce:
'Though
cranberry soda in of itself is an odd idea, we're all familiar with
cranberry juice and this doesn't seem the least bit horrifying. The
first clue that something had gone awry was the soda's color, a red
more shiny and bright than any red we'd seen before. Nothing this
red could be good for drinking. In appearance alone it was like the
liquid version of a big stop sign, but we refused to acknowledge these
warnings with anything more than passing interest because hey, we just
drank turkeys and beans and there was no way in Hell Cranberry Sauce
Soda would be worse. Indeed it wasn't the worst, but it wasn't very
good, either. Perhaps serving it lukewarm wasn't the best way to go, or
maybe the idea of cran-cola was flawed even in its inception.
Regardless, it was nice to close up shop on a cola that didn't inspire
nightmares.'
'Just
like last year, "Cranberry Sauce" is the least scary of the Jones Soda
Holiday Pack. It's much better chilled, but even at room temperature,
it didn't cause any of the taste-testers to make really weird pucker
faces that would've caused them to photography uglily. The soda's odor
is actually more faithful to real cranberries than anything Ocean Spray
produces, while the flavor itself is sadly less tart and more dumbed
down -- but not exactly "bad." If it was possible to make diet
cranberries, this is essentially what they'd taste like. Then again,
cranberry sauce is more sweet than sour, so I guess this one's fairly
close to the mark. The real downside of "Cranberry Sauce" soda is that
it doesn't give anyone a story to tell. If you drink turkey, you're
going to spend the next few hours telling everyone you drank turkey,
with the recipients of this dubious messaging making all sorts of
impressed faces. The same can't be said for "Cranberry Sauce." It's
just sorta...there.'
I used the rest of the stuff that we didn't test with to wash the horrible other flavours from my mouth to supress vomiting. This was something I could drink regularly, I think
Time to follow up with...eep...Wild Herb Stuffing:
'A
rarity even for the mad scientists at Jones Soda, "Wild Herb Stuffing"
actually tastes worse than it smells -- it's usually the other way
around. If you didn't read the label and just held your nose above the
bottle, you'd assume it to be some kind of fucked up butterscotch
flavor. Not something you'd grab at the deli, but not something that
called for the need to reconfirm your life insurance policy before
drinking it.
So, after passing around the bottle for what came to be known as the
"prep smell," the team felt they were ready. "Oh, this one's going to
be no prob," commented one taste-tester. To be honest, I was beginning
to feel foolish. I'd sold the Jones Soda Holiday Pack flavors as liquid
imps sent by Satan to ruin the holiday season, and the testers were
downing their poisons without any veritable signs of damnation. As I
poured the "Wild Herb Stuffing" soda, its lemonade color and rather
nice scent did nothing but aid my doubts. Turns out, it was all a ruse.
A clever disguise. "Herb Stuffing Soda" isn't merely unpleasant -- it's
the kind of thing you'd soak a rag with before cleaning rusty jewelry.
It is so unbelievably bad.'
I...can't add anything to that. It's the truth. Sadly, the worst was yet to come.
We had to swallow our pride and our stomachs, several times, and work up quite a lot of nerve to try this next one. Elliott's reaction was about the funniest thing I'd ever seen, which was appropriate, as we'd all just consumed the most disgusting thing EVER--Brussels Sprout & Prosciutto Soda:
'Now
that the team had experienced the true evil power Jones Soda wields,
they had their game faces on. I'd planned on offering them the "Pumpkin
Pie" flavor next, serving as a buffer between the Twin Powers of Liquid
Gross, but they themselves opted to save a less offensive flavor for
last. I admired their bravado, but knowing that Jones' vegetable sodas
were typically the worst of the lot, I turned and cackled. My pals were
in for some serious trouble.'
'"Brussels Sprout" replaces last year's "Green Bean Casserole," and
through the kind of dark magic powers usually reserved for
upright-walking bat monkeys, it tastes even worse. The green hue is
very much like what you'd expect from a soda based on Brussels sprout,
being much more "earthy" than any of the less murderous lime-flavored
concoctions souring up the big book of beverages. On all fronts, this
is the
definitive sickening soda of the 2005 Holiday Pack. It smells just as
disgusting as it tastes and it tastes just as disgusting as it looks.
The scent is the most overpowering of the entire collection, like a
filthy dog drowned in grape juice, dead and left to rot. With Jones
Soda, sometimes the smells are misleading. With "Brussels Sprout," not
at all. Nothing could smell this bad and be anything but this bad. The flavor literally made me choke, and this is coming from someone who eats chicken bones.'
I had to hold it in my mouth for a good ten seconds before I could force myself to swallow the evil, the horror, the pure, unadulterated VILE that was this soda. I hoped it would get better. I hoped it wouldn't be as bad as everyone's faces showed it to be. Then, I hoped I could keep it down and not upset my ulcer in the process. I succeeded on keeping it down--something that's a shining beacon of my own willpower. This stuff was naaaasty. Elliott had less than a quarter of an ounce, downed it before much could even touch his taste buds, but it was so bad he quickly turned and downed an entire bottle of water just to wash it away, like the stench of people in a mosh pit (this one might take three days, too). Poor guy looked like a dog searching for grass to eat. It kind of reminded me of the old bugs bunny cartoons where they would drink some potion or something really awful, and their faces would turn green, then purple, then plaid. I swear, there were stripes and checks to his face, by the end. The only thing I could think was 'WHY?!?!?!?!?!' It was like drinking a flat ham soda, mixed with the juice of a well-festered boil. Never again...until next year, probably.
Finally, the second least of the five true evils, Pumpkin pie:
'The
team wasn't very fond of "Pumpkin Pie," though now that I've had the
chance to revisit it with a clearer head, it's really not so bad. I
think they were just pissed that they'd saved the "best" flavor for
last and still had to soap their mouths clean after it. In reality,
"Pumpkin Pie" is sort of like an orange root beer. The aftertaste is a
bit too strong for my liking, but the fact that I can get
pumpkin-flavored anything down my throat is a good sign that it
isn't too disgusting or in any way life-threatening. What's really
amazing about these Jones Soda flavors are the colors -- I don't even
know what to call this one; it's not yellow and it's not orange, but
it's definitely pumpkin pie.'
It was very nutmeg, which, apparently, means pumpkin. However, even that didn't hit 'till it was gone, and WAY too strongly. All in all, gross. By far not the worst, but just...gross.
It was an experience I'll not soon foget, but one I'm not completely against trying again next year. I'm adventurous with my tastebuds. perhaps a torture junkie. But it was fun. My thanks to Jamie, Walter, Elliott, and Zainab for being relatively good sports.
Moving on:
~~~~~
Why do I always fall into these good Samaritan routines? I just wired $200 to an old friend who's down on her luck. I hope it was the right thing to do. I'll explain later.
| | | Posted 1/17/2006 1:00 AM - 5 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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