The Knowledge for Thirst

Sencha Shot is an unsweetened green tea, but unlike most teas it comes in a small aluminum can. Small aluminum can always says to me “Hello, I am an energy drink!” So I nabbed this all excited for a new fusion of unsweetened tea-slash-energy drink. What a thrilling new foray into uncharted beverage territory, etc. Why am I such a dreamer? When will I get my damn head out of the clouds for once. The small aluminum can was just a red herring. It comes in a small can because 6.4 fl. oz.’s is the absolute maximum amount of this fluid a human stomach could ever hope to bear.

I always like to take a sniff of the beverage before the first taste. I know it’s cliche, but my goodness this smelled exactly like someone’s gross feet! Just very strong and repugnant, like someone drew a mustache on me with a used, unlaundered sweat sock. The Dirty Gym Coach, we call that one.

Tastewise, the foot metaphor is made whole. It’s actually just super-concentrated green tea flavor, which I’m told is the whole point of sencha, and which–if the internet is to be believed–is a popular (or at least common) way to take one’s tea in Japan. It’s an aquired taste, but why would anyone market a drink that’s an acquired taste? Isn’t a quick ramp-up time in the taste cultivation department sort of a primary criterion for business success? I don’t know how they do things in Japan but that’s my understanding of how things work in the U of S.

The language on the can talks of this concentrated flavor making it more healthy for the consumer, but I ask you, Josh: At what cost higher content of catechin antioxidants?

I drank about half the can, (not very much, given the small serving size) before my tongue staged a walkout. She’s mad at me now and I guess I will have to buy her some ice cream so we can be friends again. Yes my tongue is female, so what.

Inca Kola (“The Golden Kola”) is like no kind of cola I ever had, but don’t let that deter you. It’s from Peru (where it’s more popular than Coke) and if history has taught us nothing else, it’s taught us that 27 million Peruvians are rarely, if ever, wrong.

It’s very sweet, which always wins points with me, with a very bubbly, light consistency. It smells like bubble gum, but tastes more like pineapple. Well, like a pineapple bubble gum, maybe.

I keep staring at that sentence, trying to think of a way to describe it that would actually sound appealing to anyone. I don’t know what to tell you. It’s much better than it sounds.

The Inca Kola entry on Wikipedia is a must-read, detailing how when Peruvians took the Pepsi Challenge, it basically ruined any chance Pepsi ever had of ever establishing a foothold there. Highly recommended for anyone who enjoys a tale of a corporation becoming hoist on its own petard.

I dinged Inca slightly for the high fructose corn syrup, but otherwise, no complaints. I downed the can in no time flat and was despondent when it was over. I would love to see this more often in the states–it would easily become one of my regulars. I wonder if the Pepsi corporation is spending millions in Washington each year, lobbying Congress to bar Inca Kola execs from ever entering the country. Their ass is still sore from that last paddling, I imagine.

Juice is completely a morning thing, right? I’m trying to think if there’s been a case of me being all “Man I need a fucking O.J.” at 3:30 PM CST (GMT -5), like, ever. The afternoon is typically when a gentleman’s thoughts turn to the sweet teas, the carbonated beverages. Anything with the zing and pep to drag your ass through the afternoon, until such time as you are able to crack open a frosty Bartles & Jaymes. Juice is too heavy those long hours, but taken ante meridianically, it provides the solid foundation for whatever else I pile on top throughout the day.

I brain-birthed all this science while I was drinking Naked’s Mighty Mango, because the first thing I thought of was “This would be good with some eggs.” The price-point on Naked is a bit steep, but if there was a cost-effective way to sell it in a big ol’ cardboard quart, I might be encouraged to make repeated pilgrimages to my grocer’s refrigerated section. It would make a fine substitute for the typical morning quaff (mimosas, vodka stingers, et al.)

Like most juices these days, the ingredients are a grab-bag of various fruits. Why is apple juice always the first ingredient listed on drinks like this? Is it a viscosity thing? Because I see it all the time, but it never really shows up in the taste department. I guess it gets buried by the orange, mango and banana notes. Here the orange was maybe a bit heavy; I would love it if they’d boost the mango power by about 5%, to give me the mango punch in the mouth I so richly deserve. But it’s a minor complaint. The banana is more of a grace note than anything, a whimsical little afterthought, like leaving a fiver on the dresser in the morning before she wakes.

In summation I would drink this for breakfast, along with perhaps some high-fiber cereal. On the weekends I like to mix things up with some Morningstar Farms brand bacon. As you know I am vegetarian.

So my manliness is already being called into question in the comments thanks to all the twee lukewarm candy-tea I’ve been consuming these days, and I mean whatever, that stuff just bounces off me because I know who I am, I know I once beat a barrista to death with a chair because he didn’t believe that I have to shave every single morning. I don’t have to prove anything to anybody in particular.

But even I have to admit that picking up soy2o at the grocery store was a pretty emasculating experience. Dude it’s got soy right there in the name. And did I mention it’s called soy2o? And I went for the peach mango flavor so it was a nice shade of, what, mauve, maybe? It’s like, where is the Firewire port on this bottle so I can plug in my iPod Mini and listen to my smart playlist of Decemberists bootlegs. I had to balance things out in my basket by throwing in some beef jerky and jock itch medication and a couple fish with the heads still on.

I poured the soy2o into a mostly empty can of Bud Light and brought it into work today. Maybe that troubling little aftertaste is the remnant of cheap hops, but I’m thinking it’s the goddamn soy. The tagline says “Clearly refreshing without the soy taste” but it’s basically an ugly liar. And as with the pomegranate stuff, I believe that if your product boasts about not tasting like some ingredient that’s in the product name, you should just rethink your whole business plan, but what do I know.

Anyway this stuff starts off too cloying and ends up too meaty, kind of like my prom night. I shall continue to get my soy the way men get it, which is through the “beef” at Taco Bell.

Alleged health benefits aside, the recent proliferation of white teas strikes me as just another pointless marketing land-grab. At the slightest notion that there might be a percentage of the tea-drinking demographic willing to pay a few cents more for its bottled tea, every beverage company on Earth rushes in with the same product. Are there really people spending money on this? Are there white tea supplicants? If so I would like to meet them. I don’t believe for one minute they actually exist.

Inko’s Lychee White Tea basically proves my point. It’s one of nine (9!) white tea + [fruit flavor] teas they offer, and I can’t imagine there are people who care enough about each of the individual flavors to keep them in production. Can I get the sales figures on Honeydew, for instance? Honeydew is no one’s favorite flavor. It’s not even in anyone’s top 10. Honeydew is the parsley of the brunch platter. OK I’m not here to review Honeydew, fine. All I’m saying is that people who make white teas don’t care about your health, or about making an interesting product, they just want to flood the market, same as everyone else.

Out of the nine options, I picked Lychee because it happens to be one of my favorite fruits. Sadly, the lychee flavoring was very mild, hardly even making an impact. So Inko fell short on its major selling point right there, for me.

That’s not to say I completely hated it. It has the all natural ingredients going for it, so I tip my hat in appreciation there. It has the correct level of not-very-sweet-ness, with the tea flavor coming through pretty robust, not like that watered-down stuff you had the other day.

On the other hand, is white tea supposed to have its own distinct flavor? A la green tea? Because I didn’t pick up on anything here. It tasted like any other kind of tea. Am I in the wrong? Tell me if I’m in the wrong. I don’t want to fault it for not tasting like white tea, because there’s nothing wrong with being adequate. You of all people should know that. There was just nothing particularly memorable about it. Would I drink it over any major-label sugar-rush teas? Yes. Would I go out of my way to drink it, if there were other brands I hadn’t tried, standing right nearby? I’m shocked that you would even have to ask me that. Can’t you at least try to be interested in my feelings?

Lest you think I’m a hater, I want to remind you that I take great pleasure in things that are minty. After Eight’s, peppermint bark, Mojito’s, you name it. I’m still sad about the fact that I haven’t been able to track down any Sprite Ice yet. What I’m saying here is that I like–am predisposed to liking, even–things that involve mint. So when I ran across Metromint, I was intrigued and thought, “Hey, maybe that’s my up my alley.”

But it wasn’t. It’s bad.

It’s really bad. It’s bad like the poetry you wrote in high school. It’s bad like Pitchfork’s review of Travistan.

Metromint tastes like you’re brushing your teeth. Take the flatest, most plastic-tasting bottled water you ever had (i.e. Klarbrunn’s), and then mix in half a tube of Crest. Does that sound like a good idea? Does that sound like something you’d enjoy?

The problem (I’ll just pick one big one, to save time) is that the mint flavoring is fairly heavy, and works cumulatively. With each sip, your mouth gets further and further into Scope territory. That is not a place you want to go. That’s not refreshing. That’s not the land of taste sensation.

I’m purposefully trying to keep this review kind of dry. I could be a lot meaner, but if I do that, then everyone will get curious and run out and try it for themselves. And I don’t want that. Firstly, because I care too much about you, and secondly because I would really like this company to go out of business as soon as possible.

Metromint is absolutely to be avoided, except by people in secret societies and college fraternities, who could maybe work this into their hazing rituals. I wish their inductees only the best of luck, and the strongest of stomachs.

I’ve never been 100% on what differentiates sweet tea from like regular tea with sugar in it, aside from it being made in the South. Maybe it’s that you add sugar while it’s still brewing, or maybe you whip up sugar syrup of some kind? Or maybe it’s just that little touch of down-home Southiness that makes it special, like Dollywood or Plessy v. Ferguson.

Point being I don’t know if I’ve ever had authentic old-school sweet tea, so I won’t be able to compare the real thing to this AriZona bastardized version, all tricked out with the High Fructose and made in … Lake Success, New York! But I can experience this thing on its own terms, just me and it, one on one. No more lies.

Well right off the bat, I forgot to shake it up before trying it (I got it at the gas station in one of those cumbersome 99¢ super-tall cans and it never occurs to me to shake up a can) so who knows what kind of flavor-silt® is lurking at the bottom. (Or fannings!) But anyway, this tastes more or less like AriZona Green Tea w/Honey (a drink I enjoy), except instead of the more subtle honey taste you get this kind of thick, blunt sweetness that pretty much piledrives down on the tea flavor from a great height, crushing its pelvis and making it cry and pound the mat in agony. Kind of sickly sweet. It also leaves behind a slick coating in my mouth, so if that’s your thing then have at it.

Anyway it’s not bad, but if I’m going to take an AriZona trip I’ll just stick with Green Tea, which is a little more subtle and sophisticated, much like yrs truly, or so the ladies tell me.

I like things that emit the scent of grapefruit. It’s a very clean aroma. You know I have that thing about washing my hands. Too bad there isn’t a soda made from eucalyptus, which actually has very cleansing properties. Oh man, can you imagine if my two obsessions, soda and cleanliness, were somehow combined. Total sigh. Anyways what was I talking about.

The first thing I did when I picked up Izze’s Sparkling Grapefruit was check the ingredients for cochineal. You cannot be too careful with the pink- and red-tinged drinks. Izze came up negatory for fused ganglia: +1. Actually, things just kept getting better. The ingredients are all natural, which I love. (And none of that cutting corners by saying HFCS is natural, which it totally is not. Everything in this beverage is bona-fide and exists in nature.)

Taste-wise it’s not too sweet, because there’s no added sugar. The carbonation isn’t too heavy and the grapefruit taste comes through swinging like a gentle champ, not too sour at all. It’s a simple, uncomplicated drink, pleasant and light on its feet. Definite thumbs up.

It even took me out of my “review place” without me realizing it. Halfway through, I was just sipping away, working on other stuff, not taking notes or anything. I guess what I’m saying is that Izze Sparkling Grapefruit made me a better person, at least for a few minutes.

I’m pretty sure I tried Honest Tea when I went on my bottled tea binge a couple years ago, buying up every Snapple competitor I could find and playing the field. But I was reminded to give it another shot by this feller who pointed out it was relatively lo-cal and eschews HFCS and keeps it more or less real with cane sugar.

After a couple weeks of checking the grocery store bev aisle I finally found one single solitary bottle of the Green Dragon Tea flavor sitting there, looking a little beat-up, its label not entirely straight. So either they can’t keep Honest Tea on the shelf or somebody — maybe on the Honest Tea marketing team — stashed the bottle there under cover of darkness.

In contrast to yesterday’s lunchtime experience with Vault, it was all I could do to stop from inhaling the entire bottle in one single feverish chug. Not because it was so amazingly delicious, but because it’s super-mild and super-quenchy. (Honest Tea marketing team: Stop sneaking bottles into grocery stores and start hiring me to do your copywriting: “It’s fucking quenchy, man. No seriously.”) Also, I was desperately parched, but when am I not. Anyway, very subtle, nice clean tea flavor with a little fruitiness, just the way you like it.

Honest Tea’s big bone to pick, though, is sweetness. They even have a little graph on the label that explains how adding just a little sugar makes tea awesome, but any more than that and you end up with “liquid candy,” and then, even worse, “What they call tea.” That last point on the graph actually appears below the x-axis to indicate that Snapple and its ilk are totally off-the-charts in terms of awfulness.

And I gotta say, the “A Tad Sweet” (again, their wording) approach is working for me, and it does sort of make me realize how little sweetener I really need. That being said, I would be up for something with a little more punch in the flavor department, as the Green Dragon Tea is essentially nice quenchy purified water that’s been farted upon by a delicately scented Tea Fairy. Perfect for when you’re thirsty, but maybe a little blah if you’re looking for a bat mitzah or gala celebration of some sort in your mouth.

(Also, I should mention I noticed this curious terminology on their site: “Most of the tea purchased for bottling by American companies was the lower quality dust and fannings left after quality tea had been produced.” Emphasis totally mine.)

I just want to start this post off by asking if there’s anything more wonderful than that feeling when you’re standing in front of the cooler, scanning the labels, and you suddenly see a beverage that you’ve never tried before? I swear to god I get giddy. Like that time you actually responded to one of my emails. Just a delightful, unexpected moment.

I felt like that the other day when I found Zico, which I’d never even heard of. It’s basically juice from green coconuts, being marketed as an all-natural alternative to the Gatorades. It seems like they’re particularly selling it to people who do yoga. I don’t do yoga. I actually don’t do much physical exercise at all, but I do appreciate that there are companies actively trying to make healthier drinks, and am definitely down for anything that’s not all chemicals.

There are three different variants of Zico at the moment; I tried the one that was infused with a slight hint of mango.

I think it’s important when trying a new beverage to pay close attention to whatever your mind and body tell you with that first sip. That is the magic moment. My immediate reaction to my first sip of Zico was: It feels like someone just spit in my mouth. My second reaction was: I don’t think I can finish this.

Obviously it’s not very sweet, since there’s no sugar added, but that wasn’t the main issue for me. It had a really strange feel–(I can’t bring myself to use the word “mouthfeel”)–a warmness to each sip, even though I was drinking it cold, that creeped me out. I wonder if it’s the result of all the potassium and electrolytes they add to it.

The language on the box uses the word “refreshing” twice, but it was anything but. It was just not an enjoyable experience for me. My third thought was: I wonder if this might actually be good over ice, with some rum. An interesting idea, but I’m kind of lazy, as we established above, so, blah blah blah whatever.