Author: Kevin

REVIEW: Sprite Blast

Kevin 5 Comments

Sprite Blast

There’s a Mitch Hedberg joke from the early 2000s.

“They say the recipe for Sprite is lemon and lime. But I tried to make it at home—there’s more to it than that. ‘Want some more homemade Sprite?’ Not ‘til you figure out what the f*** else is in it!”

It’s true. Homemade Sprite sounded impossible in 2003, when that joke was recorded for Hedberg’s second stand up album. Fast forward about a decade and homemade soda machines are in all the hippest kitchens, yet if someone yelled from the other room “Hey, man, what do I put into this thing to make Sprite?” my answer would probably end up being “Let’s just go buy some Sprite,” followed up with a 20-minute conversation about the time Rufio from Hook rapped in a Sprite commercial. Bangarang.

Sprite does feature that lemon-lime logo and, if I’m remembering correctly, advertisements in the 90’s with wet, airborne lemons and limes. But for a drink so closely associated with citrus, it lacks any sour bite whatsoever. Enter Sprite Blast. This is an iteration of the drink that tastes like it was possibly made with actual sour ass fruit, or at least the sugar they sprinkle on sour worms.

The fizz is typical of Sprite, seemingly softer than actual Coke, and sets the table for a mouth puckering that never comes. Sprite Blast has a slight sour jab that stimulates the roof of the mouth and tingles the top of the throat and never overwhelms, or whelms even. The American palate is not acclimated to sour tastes, sure. The only sour-tasting foods I can name have “sour” already in the name: Sour cream, sour pickles, sweet and sour sauce, sour grapes.

The one I most engage with is sour grapes, and that’s not even a food. I’m a master rationalizer, and didn’t really want to be a stupid astronaut anyway. It just seems like a lot of work. But Sprite Blast’s flavor is a bit anemic, even for sour neophytes. And it doesn’t necessarily play with the sugar in the drink that well either. The flavor doesn’t lilt at the end in concert with the sweetness, like a Sour Patch Kid. It just sorta lays there in your mouth like a stoned roommate. The drink is buffed of any extremes, like a mass-produced, focus-grouped product and mostly serves as a reminder of how freaking sweet regular Sprite is.

Sprite Blast 2

Sprite Blast comes in tiny 7.5-ounce cans for some reason, and I can’t figure out why. Maybe it costs that much more to produce the drink, or Coca-Cola wanted to visually differentiate it from other sodas on the shelf, but I keep searching for the “real” reason, like the can makes a particularly good bong or it can be easily fashioned into fireworks. Maybe 7.5 ounces of liquid is the perfect amount for some sort of alcoholic mixed drink, or codeine-cocktail krokodil. Maybe it fits easily into a regulation muffler, or into a body cavity.

Whatever the reason, the amount is about three-fourths a regulation soda but goes down like a shot. It’s so tempting to go “Woo!” right after and then huck the can across the room, like I just pledged some sort of dumb lemon-lime frat. Guys, tomorrow night we kidnap Sierra Mist’s mascot, which is actually a lonely guy wandering around Albertsons buying discount snacks for an ill-attended poker night.

The other thing about Sprite Blast is that it’s a 7-Eleven exclusive. Know this: Nobody is going to 7-Eleven just for Sprite Blast, which makes me think it’s there to pair well with something else. To be honest, I do think it would complement some 7-Eleven delicacies. Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. Pork rinds. Those gross-looking Doritos nuggets. Machine-rolled taquitos. Day-old hot dog. Lowrider magazine. A tin of Skoal Snus Mint. Sprite Blast would not go well with the Sausage McMuffin knockoff, Simpsons pink sprinkles donut or prophylactics.

Sprite Blast costs a buck at most 7-Elevens and is a low investment for a pretty low payoff. So no need for a homemade version, just spring for the real thing. And for those who still want to recreate it in the house, I think after reading the label, the secret ingredient is sodium benzoate.

(Nutrition Facts – 90 calories, 0 grams of fat, 115 milligrams of sodium, 23 grams of carbohydrates, 22 grams of sugar,and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Sprite Blast
Purchased Price: 99 cents
Size: 7.5 ounce can
Purchased at: 7-Eleven
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Actual sour flavors from Sprite. Could pair well with other 7-Eleven items, flavorwise.
Cons: Unremarkable. Comes in a teeny tiny can.

REVIEW: Hostess Limited Edition Extreme Creme Blue Raspberry Twinkies

Kevin 7 Comments

Hostess Limited Edition Extreme Creme Blue Raspberry Twinkies

Maybe mutants are a problem. Hey, I know, it’s easy to love the X-Men. Wolverine—so cool! Beast—so smart! Storm—so strong! Yeah, yeah, we get it. Being a mutant represents being different. It doesn’t matter what your race, creed, religion, sports team, Sex in the City archetype or toilet paper roll orientation is. We need to accept everyone. And we do! (Even though “under” is so the wrong way.)

We love the X-Men. That’s the central theme of the X-Men. But it’s never really challenged. In the Marvel Universe it never seems reasonable as a reader to hate or fear mutants. The human beings in that world—the mutant haters—seem insane, uncool and scared. Living in the time we do now, it’s tough to relate to building an explicit case against others just because they are different. That is, until Hostess Extreme Creme Twinkies Blue Raspberry.

Let’s get down to it. This stuff is outwardly ugly. Not just Eric Stoltz in Mask ugly, but…well, okay, Eric Stoltz in Mask ugly. It’s a Twinkie with blue cream inside. This blue cream soaks through the undercarriage of the Twinkie and combines with the yellow cake to make a spotty, dark spinach green color. Frankly, it looks moldy.

Hostess Limited Edition Extreme Creme Blue Raspberry Twinkies bottom

The color of the actual cream inside is like Play-Doh or a racquetball court or a poisonous frog. This is gag reflex ugly. I had a visceral reaction the first time I turned one over, tossing it quickly from my hand like it had cooties.

Regular Twinkies with white cream don’t look like this. Is it because the white cream doesn’t show up against the yellow that it doesn’t look like an oblong cupcake drizzled with melted crayon? Why does this one look so weird? It looks gross. And thus begins the line of thinking that might end up writing discriminatory anti-blue Twinkie legislation, or an anti-blue Twinkie military task force. The Twinkie work camps would be filled with small Hostess baked goods and the Blue Man Group and a chubby Blue Ivy, with all the cakes she could ever want. They hammer out license plates to that Eiffel 65 song.

If it tastes good, though, forget it. All is forgiven. I’ll eat a steak that looks like Eric Stoltz in Mask if it’s not overcooked. Actually I’d prefer it. A steak that resembles a “normal” human face would be considerably smaller. So do blue Twinkies taste good? No. Well, they’re fine. Thing is, they are blue raspberry flavor. And blue raspberry has this lip curling, wooden, sour taste with a note of bitterness at the end. Certainly that sounds interesting, if not appealing.

But are we eating interesting things here? Are we at a Thomas Keller restaurant in search of a tastefully balanced, nine-course meal designed to tantalize and expand the notion of food and eating in general? Pretty sure we’re eating a piece of sugar stuck into another thing full of sugar.

Hostess Limited Edition Extreme Creme Blue Raspberry Twinkies Innards

The cream is not pleasant at first. After the inaugural bite I grimaced like a kid being told I would have to buy all the X-Universe comic books that summer because of some dumb crossover. (Age of Apocalypse excepted.) The amount of sugar doesn’t counter balance or round out the blue raspberry flavoring, so that’s pretty much what you’re getting all up in your mouth.

It’s pretty different from the fluffy sweetness you get from a regular Twinkie. After you know what’s coming a second taste is easier and after a third, the uniqueness is almost admirable. That first impression, though, is a doozy because it’s so different. I imagine I would feel that way if I saw a human being covered in blue fur with a cat face and Frasier’s voice too. Or eating some tossed salad and scrambled eggs.

They look gross, they taste kinda gross, but to be fair that’s because we aren’t used to them yet. It’s tough, because it’s both disgusting yet a little cool that we as human beings are so comfortable just eating stuff that are colors that don’t really exist as food in nature. We should all be a little more accepting, and blue Twinkies are the first step.

Keep in mind, however, Extreme Creme Blue Raspberry Twinkies are not a cool X-Man. They are not Nightcrawler or Blink or Psylocke or anyone undeniably compelling and powerful. They’re more like that kid Cypher who could read fast or Dazzler or that guy in the third movie with spikes coming out of his face. Okay. I got it. Regular Twinkies are comforting and these blue ones are strange. Not necessarily bad, but definitely strange.

Twinkies are handsome Eric Stoltz, and blue Twinkies are Eric Stoltz in Mask. He could’ve be an X-Man, by the way, if the guy with spikes in his face is one. Buy up Mask and reboot it already, Marvel. This new movie has a talking tree. Give me a break.

Roll credits for this review. Fade to black. Nick Fury comes out of nowhere and asks Eric Stoltz in Mask to join the Avengers. He hands Nick Fury a blue Twinkie. Nick Fury eats it, spits it out. Thomas Keller picks it up, adds it to menu at Per Se. They all retract spikes from their faces and laugh.

(Nutrition Facts – 2 cakes – 270 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 35 grams of cholesterol, 370 milligrams of sodium, 46 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 32 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Hostess Limited Edition Extreme Creme Blue Raspberry Twinkies
Purchased Price: $3.59
Size: 10 count
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: After first taste, serves as a unique change of pace from regular Twinkies.
Cons: Twinkies are comfort food, and this isn’t comforting. Blue food is unsettling.

REVIEW: Ben & Jerry’s Lazy Sunday Ice Cream

Kevin 5 Comments

Ben & Jerry's Lazy Sunday Ice Cream

Lazy Sunday now is in ice cream form
But to eat it, you gotta go to the Ben and Jerry’s store
“What’s that?” you ask. Let me shut down your smile
No Lazy Sunday in the supermarket aisle

Based on the sketch by Samberg and Parnell
Look it up on YouTube—it did super well
There are tons of parodies, and we should confess
That white people joke rap is borderline at BEST

The flavor has chocolate swirl and some cake bits
A cake batter base—okay, just let me taste it
Ben & Jerry’s adding to my building frustration
The nearest Scoop Shop is at the f*$%ing train station

Left. No—right! No—straight! One-way street!
Pedaling the bicycle, can’t wait for those sweets
I know where I’m going, don’t get it twisted
Used Google Maps because the rap song insisted

(instrumental break)

I stroll to the counter, try to act all casual
Like I’m not reviewing food, stay normal and affable
The attendant asks me, “How does two scoops sound?”
I tell her “Three scoops. I’m not fooling around.”

Start to dig in to the creamy frozen treat
It smells like a birthday cake, if you can believe
Chocolate and vanilla flavoring—both pretty typical
Let’s talk about the cake bits and get a little critical

Breaking up the texture would be the dream
But they’re about the same consistency of frozen ice cream
They’re chewy and sticky, tiny bits of brilliance
Too bad when you’re eating cake, you can’t tell the difference

Cake ice cream, cake bits, so much cake, I’m at a party
One-sided, kinda boring, tell the host I’m sorry
I’m tasting too much cake, that’s the reason why
Even at a cake party I pull the Irish goodbye.

Nothing crunchy, nothing salty, nothing avant garde
I will not mourn you at the Flavor Graveyard
Do they really bury pints there? The gravestone quips
Here lies Jimmy Fallon: Fudge-covered potato chips

They stuck cupcakes in this because it’s in the song
I can’t help but think they were doing something wrong
Maybe there are legal things and other confines
But imagine this flavor: Mr. Pibb and Red Vines

The Ben & Jerry’s lady says to me the price
I do a double take, “Say it to me, twice.”
It costs same as a pint? What are you, insane?
You know who I’m not? Marta Kauffman nor David Crane

I liked this okay, I guess what I mean is
Like McAdams likes Gosling, in two thousand fourteens’
Yeah, sure, okay, Us Weekly confirms
They both feel indifferent—left on decent terms

Get back on my bike, flash a little grin
Still had ice cream so I consider that a win
Wrote up this track here, a tribute to the original
I’m eating Americone Dream, my life’s so nutritional

(Nutrition Facts – 1/2 cup — 230 calories, 120 calories from fat, 13 grams of fat, 7 grams of saturated fat, 60 grams of cholesterol, 70 milligrams of sodium, 25 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of fiber, 20 grams of sugar, and 4 grams of protein.).)

Item: Ben & Jerry’s Lazy Sunday Ice Cream
Purchased Price: $5.50
Size: Large (3 scoops)
Purchased at: Ben & Jerry’s Scoop Shop
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: It’s ice cream. Cake balls are very cake-y. Cake flavoring is strong, good.
Cons: It’s not really balanced taste-wise. The cake balls are the same texture as the ice cream so they get lost easily.

REVIEW: Taco Bell Quesarito

Kevin 9 Comments

Taco Bell Quesarito

Taco Bell has a new item, and instead of rearranging the same ol’ ingredients in a new format like they usually do, they’ve taken to rearranging names of existing foods. The Quesarito is a portmanteau of “quesadilla” and “burrito,” and features meat, sauce and rice wrapped in a tortilla with a layer of cheese around the inner core.

Hmmm, I guess they are just using the same ol’ ingredients too. Like a boring mad scientist. Like if Dr. Moreau kept promising a herd of hybrid leopard-men but just kept putting the legs of rats on legless rat bodies. You know what, though? That’s still pretty impressive. And you know what else? The Quesarito is also pretty impressive.

Maybe the greatest thing about the Quesarito is that it doesn’t really taste like it comes from Taco Bell. It has Taco Bell elements, sure: a disregard for fresh vegetables, a runny sauce that coats all the ingredients, it emanates nuclear fast food warmth.

But the Quesarito has heft. It has substance. Other Taco Bell items often feel chintzy, like they are designed to run through our bodies as fast as possible. Tasty, edible garbage. The Quesarito feels like food. I feel comfortable even calling it a “gut bomb.” And from my experience, the Quesarito comes with a free sizeable nap.

This is thanks to a couple things. It’s a burrito wrapped in a quesadilla, so the tortilla is actually doubled up, which makes it chewier. The rice is also new. It’s “Latin rice,” which I guess means it was a loser studying a dead language in high school. But you can pick out individual grains and it’s cooked more al dente than the rice in other sister items. Biting into a Quesarito, you can sense full, sturdy ingredients. Seems like maybe they took a look at the modus operandi of one Chipotle restaurant and decided to go sic semper tyrannis on ‘em. Side note: anyone have a time machine and know how to say “Please go to prom with me” in Latin? Asking for an amicus.

Taco Bell Quesarito 2

The decent base of tortilla and rice gives the cheese and protein a solid springboard to showcase their flavors, and for the most part, they do a good job. The cheese in the quesadilla forms a golden ring around the bisected burrito, and every bite is equally blessed by the melty smoothness.

Taco Bell Quesarito 3

Of the three meat options, the relatively muted shredded chicken fares the best, playing along with the rest of the Quesarito to let every ingredient shine in a concert of flavor and texture. The steak is fine too, but every bite was filled with sinew and makes the burrito feel stringy. The beef is the ground beef from all the other Taco Bell stuff, and as such it lacks subtlety. It’s salty like a salt lick, to the point where it almost burns, and definitely overpowers the quieter elements in the Quesarito.

It’s also ground to the point of almost being a meat puree, and seems out of place in this new, gentler Taco Bell item. It’s time to leave your hometown, Ground Beef. See the world, get some new perspective. Yeah, Ground Beef, we’ll leave tomorrow. Let’s go out back for now, look at the rabbits. That’s it, pet the rabbits. Oops, I shot Ground Beef in the back of the head. I’m sorry, Ground Beef. You’ll never over-salt anyone’s tongue again, Ground Beef. You are reunited in heaven with the Blackjack Taco and the Volcano Menu.

Now the bad. It’s pretty much just the sour cream. Maybe it actually goes well with the Quesarito, but it’s a problem of construction, not taste. The way the sour cream is dispensed on the tortilla, it’s packed all into one end, like if the Quesarito was an airplane, the sour cream takes up first class. And that’s confusing, because first class is a good thing, but there isn’t anything called “last class.”

Okay. If the Quesarito was an airplane, the sour cream takes up all of last class. And I’m Godzilla or Optimus Prime or whatever, and I want to eat the plane, and I bite in and I get a giant mouthful of tangy sour cream. That’s insane. Because who put all this sour cream in an airplane?

But as a human, if I wanted a mouthful of sour cream I’d go to the sour cream store and grab a spoon. Oh wait, that doesn’t exist, because we are civilized people and not creeps and nobody wants mouthfuls of sour cream. And the sour cream pocket is on either end of the Quesarito so it’s like playing Russian roulette with every beginning bite. Mexican-Russian roulette. Sorry. Mexican-Russian-American roulette. We’re a melting pot, folks.

So Taco Bell smushed two words together and they scored a home-down/touch-run with the Quesarito. They made the Brangelina of fast food. Oh! Are any of those kids in that family Mexican-Russian?

The Quesarito is a success, and soon we might be calling Merriam-Webster to add a new word, like all those popular portmanteaus of the past such as bromance, Californication and Fleshlight. Welp, just made myself barf with that string of words. That’s okay, more room for Quesarito.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ground beef Quesarito* – 650 calories, 300 calories from fat, 34 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of trans fat, 60 grams of cholesterol, 1450 milligrams of sodium, 65 grams of carbohydrates, 6 grams of fiber, 5 grams of sugar, 22 grams of protein.)

*Nutrition facts for chicken and steak versions not available on Taco Bell website.

Item: Taco Bell Quesarito
Purchased Price: $1.99 (Ground Beef), $2.79 (Chicken) and $2.99 (Steak)
Size: N/A
Purchased at: Taco Bell
Rating: 6 out of 10 (Ground Beef)
Rating: 9 out of 10 (Chicken)
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Steak)
Pros: Substantial, filling. Tastes like actual food. Cheese in every bite. The rice is great.
Cons: Very salty, particularly the beef. Steak is sinewy. Can be runny. Sour cream is always stuck in one bite.

REVIEW: McDonald’s Horchata Frappe

Kevin 6 Comments

McDonald’s Horchata Frappe

Horchata is a white-ish drink often seen in Mexican restaurants in those giant beehive-shaped containers. It’s pronounced or-chah-tah, and it’s really fun to say. Try it. Or-chah-tah. Or-chah-tah. Sorry, cellar door. There’s a new best word. It should be a celebrity child’s name, except if people don’t know how to pronounce it correctly and it was a girl, it kinda looks like it starts with “whore.” It’d probably work ironically, like a boy named Sue. Yeah, probably. “Horchata Cruise.” “Horchata West.” Let’s all make a pact. We all agree to name our first (or next) born “Horchata.” Reading this review is an implicit binding contract. Too late, you started already. It’s done.

Back to the drink. While regional variations exist, the version I am familiar with tastes like it’s made of rice, sometimes steeped in nuts, with a healthy dose of cinnamon up on top and over ice. The refreshing beverage goes particularly well with tacos and burritos, though you’re eating tacos and burritos. You could say garbage water goes particularly well with tacos and burritos. Ever had a Jarritos with Mexican food? It’s way too sweet. But still had that burrito. So it’s still a win. Not just a win. A Seahawks over Broncos win. Though I will say, the first time I drank horchata I thought it tasted a little like watered-down milk.

McDonald’s is taking advantage of the fact that Southern California’s immense Hispanic population and pumping out a McCafe coffee version of the horchata drink. Additionally, I noticed that between the hours of 2 p.m. and 5 p.m., if you buy one frappe, you get another free. They’re calling it a “social hour.” I remember reading somewhere that McDonald’s décor is made to be unpleasant, because they have such a strong brand and they know we will all eat at the restaurant, but they want you to leave quickly so they can serve more customers. Make up your mind, Ronald. You want book clubs and Algonquin roundtable meetings between two and five, but when I cannonball into the Play Place ball pit you tell me to “put back on my shirt.” How do you know I’m not just an overgrown eight year-old? Stop putting hormones in your meat.

The horchata frappe is pretty decent, but it’s complicated. Imagine the taste of rice and nuts. Not the most in-your-face flavor bombs. But coffee? Coffee is the beast of the taste world. They use coffee in lab tests to reset smell-buds. I think they use coffee to defeat Godzilla in that new movie. Everybody rolls around in coffee grounds and it can’t smell humans anymore. It would overpower poor Nuts and Rice. Thus, there is little coffee flavoring in the frappe. It’s basically an horchata milkshake. And you know how cold tends to strangle certain flavors? Cold is so powerful I think that’s how they defeat Godzilla in that new movie. They freeze dry the lizard. This frappe is cold. Real cold. And honestly a lot of the flavor in the drink is overpowered by how numbingly cold it is.

Near the end of the frappe, when the whipped cream melts into the liquid and the ice is drank away, there is the real drink. It was in there the whole time, like a loved one possessed by the devil. It has a light cinnamon-vanilla flavoring (the drink is made with vanilla syrup), and maybe a small hit of rice-milk flavor, like barely detectable. It does not taste like it’s been steeped in nuts. You know what’s been steeped in nuts, though? I’ve held your hand this far. Write your own joke.

The attempt at subtle flavoring is admirable on McDonald’s part, and it was a pretty nice treat at a good price point. It’s thick like a milkshake so it might be hard to sit there and wait for it to heat up to the exact point when it would be ideal to drink it for maximum flavor. Maybe that’s why two to five is social hour. It takes three hours to get peak frappe. Like standing on a boat at 5 a.m. on vacation watching glaciers fall apart.

With the whipped cream mixed in, the fats boosted the flavoring and I would recommend trying to get a side of whipped cream or bringing your own can. That recommendation extends to all restaurants, however. I’m not sure this flavor is going to be launched nationwide but the unfamiliarity of horchata will probably keep it a regional item. But when she’s old enough, you can put Baby Horchata on a plane for a birthright quest to grab it, if it’s still around. 

(Nutrition Facts – Unavailable on website or anywhere else.)

Item: McDonald’s Horchata Frappe
Purchased Price: $2.89
Size: Medium
Purchased at: McDonald’s
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Interesting, pleasant flavor. Works well in frozen treat format.
Cons: Coldness overpowers the subtler horchata flavoring. Not enough rice, nutty taste.