Let’s say you got a really rock-solid beverage in the market. A distinctive spin on the standard cola formula. A name with personality — a goddamn postgrad degree.
This is Dr Pepper. This is a drink with heritage. Well, chum, that doesn’t cut it anymore. Consumers are all, “Boo-hoo, I’m bored of this bewitching nectar.” So Dr Pepper goes and creates flavor spin-offs to generate excitement and maximize reach. My love for the Dr is so deep-down that I was willing to play ball — even though Red Fusion was a spectacular failure and Cherry Vanilla was basically like licking the floor of a second-run movie theater. But I did it because there was still a little Pepper in there somewhere, tantalizing me.
The latest installment is Dr Pepper Berries & Cream, and it’s not bad. Raspberry is underrepresented in mainstream sodas, and the fakey cream flavor is subtle enough to ignore. One problem: There’s no Dr Pepper in it. That unique vibe is almost entirely absent, and I’m all: Why exactly am I wasting my time with the knockoffs? Daddy wants the original. Sometimes I call myself “Daddy” when crushing a half-finished can of disappointing soda and throwing it, with vigor, at a loved one.
This one suffered from the same problem as Black Cherry Vanilla Coke. Too many complicated frilly undergarments covering up the fine body, knamsain?
It tastes too much like Robitussin for me. And I freaking hate Robitussin. What’s up with the 23 Flavors campaign? I love Dr Pepper, but I don’t want to sit there pondering what the hell they are flavoring the soda with.
Sadly, I love this soda. It’s like dessert in a drink… minus the ice cream or the alcohol. For now.
Boo-hoo, I’m bored of this bewitching nectar.