REVIEW: Jamba Juice MediterraneYUM California Flatbread

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Oooh, looks like someone in Jamba Juice’s marketing department is a wordsmith. Only a skilled user of words could come up with the name of Jamba Juice’s MediterraneYUM California Flatbread.

I wonder if he or she is an admirer of alliteration, like I am, or gets sexually aroused when reading a Dr. Seuss book, like I do.

Jamba Juice’s line of California Flatbreads is the company’s latest foray into solid, non-blended foods and comes in other flavors, like the lazily-named Four Cheesy and Smokehouse Chicken, and the ridiculously-named Tomo Artichoko (which for those of you who don’t know Japanese, or have never heard the Styx song “Mr. Roboto,” is a play on the Japanese phrase domo arigato, which means “thank you.”). They look like mini pizzas or HUGE Bagel Bites.

The MediterraneYUM California Flatbread is made up of a flaxseed crust topped with grilled zucchini, onions, bell peppers and mushrooms, along with feta and mozzarella cheeses. If you’re expecting these to be as big as a Pizza Hut Personal Pan Pizza, you will be displeased.

As you can see in the photo above, it measures at around 4.5 inches in diameter. Its size makes it seem more like a snack than a meal, but its four dollar price tag makes it seem more like a meal than a snack. If you think of it as a snack, then think of it as a pizza cookie. But if you think of it as a meal, then think of it as like Chinese food, because you’ll probably get hungry soon after.

The California Flatbreads are heated up by sticking them in a quick oven that looks similar to the toasting ovens used by Subway. The time spent in the oven gives the flatbread slightly crispy edges, but everything else is soft and quite chewy. The flatbread itself also doesn’t provide any noticeable flavor. The vegetables were crunchy and they make the MediterraneYUM taste like a supreme pizza without the meat.

Its taste isn’t bad, but I really can’t get past its small size. I guess this is what it’s like to be an unsatisfied woman who just had sex with a man with a small penis.

Overall, the Jamba Juice MediterraneYUM California Flatbread is MediterLAMEan.

Wordsmith!

(Nutrition Facts – 1 flatbread -250 calories, 8 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 10 milligrams of cholesterol, 620 milligrams of sodium, 37 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of fiber, 4 grams of sugar, 10 grams of protein, 10% vitamin A, 6% calcium, 30% vitamin C and 6% iron.)

Item: Jamba Juice MediterraneYUM California Flatbread
Price: $3.99
Size: 4.5 inches
Purchased at: Jamba Juice
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Tastes like a supreme pizza without meat. Good for vegetarians. Crunchy vegetables. Uses flaxseeds. Reading Dr. Seuss. Mr. Roboto.
Cons: Tiny, smaller than a Pizza Hut Personal Pan Pizza. Flatbread doesn’t provide any flavor. Pricey for what you get. Flatbread was a little too chewy. Unsatisfied women.

REVIEW: Jones Candy Corn Soda

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If Native Americans knew we were going to create a disgusting candy that looks like corn and then make a carbonated beverage that tastes like said candy, they probably wouldn’t have taught the Pilgrims how to grow corn.

Candy corn is the Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt of Halloween treats because they just won’t go away, despite how much people loathe them. Actually, comparing those two no talent attention grabbers to candy corn is rather insulting to the white, orange and yellow candy that has the consistency of wax.

I wonder what’s the appeal of candy corn. I understand the reason why for those who purchase it, because it allows them to give extremely cheap candy to trick or treaters, but I don’t comprehend those who eat it. If I want eat something sweet with the word “corn” in its name, I’ll just consume kettle corn or one of the thousands of products that contain high fructose corn syrup or a chocolate-dipped corn dog.

Like a small catch while fishing, candy corn is one of those things you throw back to the place from where it came. I don’t know about the rest of you, but in my neighborhood, those who would give out candy corn on Halloween would find their front doorsteps littered with candy corn the next morning. Or if we had time, we would spell out the word “cheap ass” using the candy corn.

We did the same thing to those who handed out stacks of pennies, but by the next morning the front doors of those who passed them out were clean because the kids collecting for UNICEF would pick up the loose change.

While I may not enjoy candy corn, the Jones Candy Corn Soda might be the only candy corn product I’ll slightly tolerate, even though it’s urine-colored and doesn’t really taste like candy corn. Its flavor is extremely sweet and its initial flavor is quite off-putting, but once you get past it, it tastes like a cream soda with some spice, which I kind of liked, but it will probably turn off most people. It’s best when extremely chilled and quite nasty when slightly warm.

So if you’ve got some cash to burn and you’re looking to get something special for trick or treaters who stop buy your house this Halloween, might I suggest NOT picking up all the Jones Candy Corn Soda you can find, unless you want the short roly-poly cans thrown at your front door in the middle of the night.

(Nutrition Facts – 8 ounces – 130 calories, 0 grams of fat, 40 milligrams of sodium, 32 grams of carbohydrates, 32 grams of sugar and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Jones Candy Corn Soda
Price: $2.99 (4-pack)
Size: 8 ounces
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: Doesn’t taste like candy corn. Limited Edition. Uses cane sugar. No high fructose corn syrup. Getting good candy for Halloween.
Cons: Small cans. Urine colored. Initial flavor was off-putting. Tastes like cream soda with a bit of spice. Getting candy corn for Halloween. Getting stacks of pennies for Halloween.

REVIEW: Goya Cola Champagne

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I’ll get straight to the point here: I’m what you’d call a “classy” broad. I enjoy the finer things in life, such as dining at upscale restaurants that aren’t so upscale that they don’t accept coupons; wearing designer clothing that I find irregular or on clearance; and looking at the furniture in the Crate and Barrel catalog.

So when I saw Goya’s Cola Champagne, I said to myself “Ooh la la! Now there is a soft drink for me.” Surely this was to be a superior, top of the line beverage — despite being manufactured by the same company I normally associate with black beans and adobo sauce.

After opening the bottle and letting the cola breathe for a bit, I poured myself a glass. But the ironic thing about Goya Cola Champagne is that it tastes like neither cola nor champagne, but instead like carbonated sugar water with strong notes of bubblegum and hints of orange cough syrup. Actually, I don’t know if that’s “ironic” in the actual definition of ironic sense of the word so much as the Alanis Morrissette song “Ironic” sense of the word. Really, Alanis? You know I love you girl but rain on your wedding day and a fly in your Chardonnay isn’t ironic, it’s fucking unfortunate. Learn the difference.

At any rate, even though the product didn’t taste anything like actual champagne, (not even the five dollar bottles you find on the bottom “shelf of indignity” in the sparkling wine aisle of the grocery store) it wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

It was also very Bazooka Joe-ish on the nose, which added to the bubblegum sensation I got while drinking it. And really, I’m down with other bubblegum flavored products such as bubblegum jelly beans, bubblegum ice cream and, you know, bubblegum itself; so going by those standards it wasn’t too bad. My biggest complaint was that it left my mouth tasting like bubblegum-flavored bile after drinking it. I think “refresco” must be Spanish for “bad aftertaste.”

Overall, while it wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t especially memorable either. So next time I’m in the mood for cola or champagne I’ll probably stick to my usual Coke Zero or champagne with actual alcohol in it, even if I have to resort to the shelf of indignity in the liquor store.

(Nutrition Facts – 12 ounces (1 bottle) – 200 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 60 milligrams of sodium, 47 grams of carbohydrates, 0 gram of fiber, 45 grams of sugar, 0 grams of protein and 0% iron.)

Item: Goya Cola Champagne
Price: 2/$1.59
Size: 12 ounces
Purchased at: Supreme Shop ‘N Bag
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Shit that’s bubblegum-flavored. Crate and Barrel furniture. Being a classy broad.
Cons: Bad aftertaste. Rain on your wedding day. Flies in your chardonnay. Having to resort to the shelf of indignity at the liquor store.

REVIEW: Jack in the Box Bonus Jack

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Dear Burger King,

Please bring back your Big Mac wannabe, the Big King burger, which you introduced in the United States in 1997, but discontinued several years later.

I’d like to see it make a comeback here in the United States because Big Mac clones are popping up left and right, like zits on the faces of one of your teenaged employees manning the deep fryer, and I figure since you’ve made one before, you might as well throw your hat into the ring of secret sauces. These burgers include: Carl’s Jr.’s Big Carl, Hardee’s Big Hardee and the recently released Jack in the Box Bonus Jack.

Actually, I should really say “recently rereleased.” Jack in the Box copied the McDonald’s Big Mac decades before it became cool to do so, introducing their Bonus Jack in 1970, which was two years after the Big Mac was rolled out nationwide. The Bonus Jack contains two beef patties, two slices of American cheese, a pickle slice, shredded lettuce and Jack’s Famous Secret Sauce in between a three-piece bun.

You should rerelease the Big King because the Bonus Jack is a lame facsimile of the Big Mac. The beef patties in a Big Mac are small, but the ones in the Bonus Jack are a little more petite, and not a cute petite, like Christina Ricci. Because there’s not a lot of meat, I mostly tasted the bun, which isn’t a bad thing if I’m Cool Whip wrestling with two petite women in bikinis in a baby pool, but it’s bad when it comes to any burger.

The secret sauce did taste like Thousand Island dressing, like all the other secret sauces, but there wasn’t enough of it in my Bonus Jack to have that flavor in every bite. A couple of bites did sort of taste like a Big Mac, but overall there was a lot of bread.

Another reason why you should bring back the Big King is because Wendy’s or some other fast food joint is going to come out with their own version, and if they do, you’ll be all alone. This is bad because while all the other fast food places with Big Mac clones are comparing each other, you’ll be all by yourself, nowhere to be found, allowing the other fast food joints to assume you’re either crying or masturbating, or as they will call it, “whipping up your own secret sauce.”

Sincerely,

Marvo

(Nutrition Facts – 1 burger – 540 calories, 33 grams of fat, 13 grams of saturated fat, 1 grams of trans fat, 88 milligrams of cholesterol, 1062 milligrams of sodium, 374 milligrams of potassium, 34 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 6 grams of sugar and 25 grams of protein.)

Item: Jack in the Box Bonus Jack
Price: $4.99 (medium combo)
Size: 1 burger
Purchased at: Jack in the Box
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: About the same size as a Big Mac. Secret sauce tasted like Thousand Island dressing. Cool Whip wrestling. Christina Ricci.
Cons: Beef patties were petite. Mostly tasted the bun. No sesame seed bun. One pickle. No additional onions. Unhealthier than a Big Mac. Zits. Fast food places calling their sauce “secret” when we know it’s Thousand Island dressing.

REVIEW: Kemps Mint Chip IttiBitz

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About 14 years ago, the local movie theatre near my childhood home added something new and unusual to their regular food lineup of lukewarm hotdogs, jumbo-sized sodas and the extra-large popcorn that I’m pretty sure was enough to feed an entire farm; from the little chicks to the overweight farmer and his wife.

Dippin’ Dots was the “space-aged” item that all kids (myself included) begged their parents to get before they went into the theatre to see Disney’s highly inaccurate version of Pocahontas, or some other G-rated movie that didn’t contain all of the shit I would learn to love later on in life, including using the word “shit.”

Dippin’ Dots were hard to find, very expensive, and so cold they would freeze your tongue, thus not being able to taste the flavor after the first spoonful. It’s now 2009, and Dippin’ Dots clones can be found everywhere, from vending machines in outlet malls to freezer cases at mini-marts. After seeing the Kemps IttiBitz in the freezer section, I figured it would be good to maybe go back to my childhood and experience something I haven’t had in over a decade.

Right off the bat, Kemps IttiBitz gets one point over Dippin’ Dots in the name category. IttiBitz sounds like the nickname given to the president of your local chapter’s Itty Bitty Titty Committee. I applaud Kemps for honoring those who lack in the boobage department. I would say, “Stay strong my sisters!”, but I haven’t been in the IBTC since middle school.

The IttiBitz were very mint chocolate chip-y, but the missing ingredient were the actual chips; I guess the little brown pellets were to make up for that, but for me it really didn’t. When the bitz melted in my mouth, they revealed a very creamy, full-bodied taste of mint chocolate. Surprisingly, the ice cream has some substance to it; it’s not watered down at all.

Besides having to physically bang the entire cup to separate the frozen beads that clump together, the only other downfall with Kemps IttiBitz was the same problem I had with its predecessor fourteen years ago — frozen tongue syndrome.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 cup – 160 calories, 11 grams of fat, 11 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 40 milligrams of cholesterol, 55 milligrams of sodium, 13 grams of carbohydrates, 9 grams of sugar, 2 grams of protein, 8% vitamin A and 8% calcium.)

Item: Kemps Mint Chip IttiBitz
Price: $1.49 (on sale)
Size: 1 Cup
Purchased at: Hannaford Supermarkets
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Cryogenically frozen ice cream = Freakin’ awesome. Creamy texture. Inexpensive alternative to Dippin’ Dots
Cons: Cryogenically frozen Walt Disney = Freakin’ creepy. Serving size is a little small. Needing Lactaid. Frozen tongue syndrome. High in fat.