Tag: Gum

When I picked up the Extra Dessert Delights Orange Creme Pop Gum, I wondered why they would call it that when there’s an Orange Creamsicle printed on the front of the packaging. And then I thought why would they create a gum that emulates something that happens to imitate something else. That something is an orange cream soda, and that something else is an Orange Creamsicle.

Now, at this point, some of you might be yelling at your computer monitor calling me an idiot because you’ve seen what’s wrong with the picture I’ve painted in my head. And some of you might be following the same wrong path my mind took while trying to figure this out. But here is where I right the ship.

“Pop” is a synonym for soda, although I’ve never called it “pop.” I’ve always called it “soda” because that’s what the fizzing voices from an open Pepsi tell me I should call it. But because I saw the word “pop” and orange cream soda exists in the world, I put two and two together and thought the gum was trying to emulate the flavor of an orange cream soda, which tries to taste like an Orange Creamsicle. Eventually, I realized that when I originally put two and two together, I got 22 when I should’ve gotten four.

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why the gum was named after a soda, but had a picture of an Orange Creamsicle on its packaging. I even bought a six-pack of orange cream soda, hoping that the fizzing voices from an open bottle would tell me why. The only word I heard when I put my ear next to the bottle’s neck was…Wikipedia.

I searched for “Creamsicle” on Wikipedia and was directed to the Popsicle page. Yes, a capital P with a circled R near the end to designated it as a register trademark. At this point, I realized “pop” was the non-trademarked term companies can call their frozen treats without getting letters from Unilever’s lawyers. Also at this point, I thought I shouldn’t tell anyone about my stupidity, but then I couldn’t come up with an intro for this Extra Dessert Delights Orange Creme Pop Gum review, so here we are.

Of course, this confusion could’ve been avoided if Wrigley’s teamed up with the Popsicle brand and called it “Orange Creamsicle.” Or they could’ve called it “Orange Creme Frozen Dessert Treat,” but I imagine the graphic designer designing the box would not be pleased with that horribly wordy name. Or I could’ve realized that orange cream soda is not a dessert.

The Extra Dessert Delights Orange Creme Pop Gum smells like orange Metamucil, which is something no product other than orange Metamucil should smell like. After putting the gum into my mouth it starts off with a strong orange flavor, then after several chews the creme part comes in, and it’s not bad. But after 45 seconds, its flavor dramatically drops. If I was a woman and the Extra Dessert Delights Orange Creme Pop Gum was a lover on top of me and he was done in 45 seconds, I’d be pissed.

However, since I’m a man, although with boobs, and the Extra Dessert Delights Orange Creme Pop Gum is just gum, I shouldn’t be pissed, but I am. When the flavor diminished, what I was left with was a very mild orange flavor until I decided to spit it out, or throw it into the hair of someone I think needs a haircut.

That very mild orange flavor is the major problem with it. At this point, it doesn’t taste like an orange creme frozen dessert treat. It’s just orange without the vanilla, and that folks is…vanilla.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 stick – 5 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 milligrams of sodium, 2 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar, 2 gram of sugar alcohol, and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Extra Dessert Delights Orange Creme Pop Gum
Price: $1.19
Size: 15 sticks
Purchased at: Target
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: Flavor for the first 45 seconds is not bad. It’s sugarfree gum. 5 calories per stick, which I just burned whille typing this review. Orange Creamsicles. Wikipedia.
Cons: Smells like orange Metamucil. Too much orange, but not enough creme. My slow mind. Pissing off graphic designers. Putting two and two together and getting 22. A 45 second man.

With the introduction of each Wrigley’s 5 Gum flavor, Wrigley’s steps closer to displacing all the pudgy, homely packs of Wrigley’s Extra Gum with younger, sexier, and skinnier versions of them.

First, Extra’s Spearmint, Peppermint, and Cinnamon were superseded by Rain, Cobalt, and Flare. Then Extra’s Winterfresh, Bubble Gum, Island Cooler, and Berry Paradise were supplanted by Solstice, Zing, Lush, and Elixir. Finally, Extra’s Cool Watermelon and Cool Green Apple were displaced by Prism and, the latest Wrigley’s 5 Gum flavor, Vortex.

A pack of Vortex smells like what I imagine a Scratch n Sniff green apple sticker would smell like, an exaggerated artificial green apple aroma that I don’t want anywhere on my Trapper Keeper. The gum’s initial flavor is a bit harsh. The flavor has an unusual sour flavor for the first 20-30 seconds of chewing, but after that it tones down and the artificial green apple flavor comes through to ruin my taste buds’ day.

The gum loses most of its flavor at the 6-7 minute mark, which is surprising for a Wrigley’s 5 Gum. At the 8-10 minute mark, the gum takes a turn for the worst and it’s almost devoid of flavor. After 15 minutes, my taste buds couldn’t take it anymore and they ejected the gum. However, I quickly learned spitting out the gum was probably not a wise decision, since it leaves behind a horrible after-aftertaste.

Because I’m a mouth breather, every time I inhale after spitting out this gum, I could taste whatever flavor residue was left behind by Wrigley’s 5 Vortex Gum. This after-aftertaste is the worst part of this gum, because it tastes as though I ate a saltine cracker.

Now, I enjoy a good saltine cracker when I’m having trouble keeping down food or when I want all the saliva in my mouth to be sucked up, but having the flavor of one in my mouth after chewing gum is unpleasant. If only there was something I could chew on to get rid of that unpleasant taste in my mouth.

I can’t blame Wrigley’s for coming out with ANOTHER 5 Gum flavor to make Wrigley’s Extra Gum line be self-conscious about their looks, because the sexier chewing gum line, with its slim black box and one word names that have also been used by automobile manufacturers and strippers, is marketed to teens, and their tastes change as often as their Facebook statuses.

While Vortex wouldn’t make a good stripper name, although Vicky Vortex would make a good porn star stage name, Wrigley’s 5 Vortex Gum has a fitting name, because vortexes suck, and so does this gum.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 stick – 5 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 milligrams of sodium, 2 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar, 2 grams of sugar alcohol, and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Wrigley’s 5 Vortex Gum
Price: $1.29
Size: 15 pieces
Purchased at: A Korean convenience store
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: Sugar-free. Comes in a sexy, slim box, the skinny jeans of gum packaging, if you will. Saltine crackers when feeling icky. Trapper Keepers.
Cons: Like vortexes, this gum sucks. Unpleasant after-aftertaste, which is like eating saltine crackers. Slightly unpleasant artificial green apple flavor that makes my taste buds unhappy. Flavor doesn’t last long. Pudgy, homely packs of Extra Gum. Being displacing by a younger, sexier version.

This year on Black Friday I slept in and ate pie for breakfast. From then until a matinee showing of Harry Potter, I had time to kill, so I embarked upon a ruthless search for my first review topic. My strategy was to go where the crowd most definitely would not be: CVS.

Like all drug stores, CVS isn’t meant for the early, targeted bargain shopper. Drug stores are where the most terrible gifts are born around midnight every Christmas Eve. The Bumpits. The ShamWows. The best of the past year’s late night infomercial onslaught, proudly on display for the non-insomniac market, ready to proclaim, “The only thought I put into this was whether or not it would fit into this mostly mold-free, empty box I found in the basement yesterday. Happy frickin’ holidays!” On the biggest shopping day of the year, however, I saw maybe four or five people in the whole store who didn’t work there and weren’t related to me. It was consumer heaven.

Faced with many horrible convenience food options, some of which might technically be considered “dietary supplements” or “experimental chemical amalgams” rather than “food,” I felt a little like a sacrificial product sampling lamb — an experience I had hoped to stave off at least until my second review. Luckily, I took a last minute jaunt down the candy aisle, where I found all three varieties of Extra Dessert Delights sugar-free gum lined up like shining beacons of hope in the midst of a texture-impaired, corn syrupy storm.

I tore into the mint chocolate chip flavor first. Unwrapping the plastic released a surprising burst of what I would’ve assumed was real mint chocolate ice cream, if I’d kept my eyes closed. Inside, the gum appeared greenish blue and fairly nondescript. No chocolate flecks. No color swirls. No frills whatsoever.

At first chew, the stuff tastes like any other mint gum, but then it gets oddly cold, in this deeply unnatural yet refreshing way. It’s like slightly melted ice cream with a gum base. Given a few seconds of chewing, the chocolate finally kicks in. The whole process is very Willy Wonka. You’ll wonder what the hell is happening in your mouth until gradually you stop caring and settle into the delicious symphony of flavors and disconcerting chilliness (which I have to admit I’d miss had they not cooked up some creepy chemical way to include it). I feel like there’s another obvious joke to be made in correlation with that last statement, but I can’t quite wrap my head around it. Hmm, oh well.

The strawberry shortcake gum smelled authentic, too. I could definitely perceive the shortcake. Don’t tell me you don’t know what I’m talking about. Go buy a package of shortcakes. Rip it open. Inhale. Now go smell this gum. I’ll wait and then, as your eyes grow wide and you acknowledge the accuracy of my account, I’ll say, “I know, right?”

I found myself suddenly transported back to Midwestern days of yore, picking strawberries right from the patch under the blazing June sun, wearing one of those cute little shirts that tied at the shoulders along with my heart-shaped sunglasses, my hands sticky with berry goop from accidentally grabbing rotten ones.

And – oh God, it’s so cold here! Southern California is broken! On top of that, I decided to hang a decorated glow-in-the-dark skeleton over the heater rather than have the gas turned on. I felt so bold back in the summer when I made that decision. I was tough, damn it – a gritty, blizzard-beaten Illinoisan through and through. But now it is December and I’m very worried about hypothermia. Word on the street is that it is quite the insidious killer.

Oh wait. Sorry. Gum.

The gum basically gave my mouth a brief vacation from reality without ever truly overwhelming my senses. The taste is a bit more muted than the mint chip kind, but pleasant. Mostly I got a sweet real strawberry flavor with hints of something more, but none of the bold shortcake experience promised by the gum’s aroma. I would’ve said this knocked it out of the park had I not just witnessed the spectacular home run blasted into the stratosphere by mint chip. Even so, this definitely manages to clear the wall somewhere far out in right field. It’s fair, people. Cue the fireworks. I wish it were at least April. Can you hear me weather gods? I’m willing to settle!

Finally, we come to my citrusy old friend, key lime pie. On Sunday, my brother-in-law knocked a bunch of limes off the tree in his backyard, prompting some spur-of-the-moment baking. Quite out of the blue, I had the real thing handy for comparison. Yay! The real thing definitely wins. Just putting that out there. I mean, seriously, the only way to make that pie fresher would’ve been to juice the limes straight from the tree, and that just seems unnecessary. On the flip side, this version has five calories. So there’s that.

The gum definitely does taste pie-like, following closely in the footsteps of its excellently rendered neighbors. The flavor is very middle-of-the-road family restaurant key lime pie, harkening back to a particular slice I consumed at the Bonanza in Mt. Vernon, Illinois back in the late nineties. I must say, it’s less daunting as a gum. I was a little leery of the lime flavor becoming monotonous and too sour, because I am a wimp. I’m sorry I ever doubt you, Extra. Please forgive me. It tastes like a Starburst with more longevity and no real sugar. I appreciate that even the pie on the box hasn’t been artificially dyed electric-green…ålike that pie at Bonanza. I only remember it so vividly because I found an entire old hot dog under my chair that same night. I wonder if that place is still around?

Anyway, you’re done reading now. Go try these gums, especially the choco-minty kind, unless you don’t like mint chocolate or happiness. Extra has blessed us all with holiday-levels of indulgence, minus the added layer of seasonal blubber. Even if you were to blow through a whole pack in one sitting (which I totally considered) that’s still twenty-five calories short of a single Double-Stuf Oreo.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 stick – 5 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 milligrams of sodium, 2 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar, 2 grams of sugar alcohol and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Extra Dessert Delights Sugar Free Gum (Mint Chocolate Chip, Key Lime Pie, and Strawberry Shortcake)
Price: $1.29
Size: 15 sticks/pack
Purchased at: CVS
Rating: 10 out of 10 (Mint Chocolate Chip)
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Strawberry Shortcake)
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Key Lime Pie)
Pros: Pie for breakfast. Post-apocalyptic shopping situations. The Willy Wonka flavor presentation method. Five calorie desserts. Glow-in-the-dark skeletons. Shortcake. The chill of ice cream without subsequent tongue numbness. Fresh picked limes made into a pie. Starbursts you can chew on forever. Pretty much everything else about the mint chocolate chip variety. Warmth.
Cons: Last minute gifts. Corn syrup storms. The mystery of how it’s possible for gum to stay cold for twenty minutes. Grabbing rotten strawberries. Hypothermia. The shortcake element being a total tease. Most of my trips to Bonanza. Trying to juice a lime without picking it.