Is my ascot straight?  Good.  Fix your monocle.  It’s a tad streaky.

So, how’s the stock portfolio, old sport?  Is it going up and all that?  Good, good.  Yes, mine’s fine.   The money is in there with the investments and such.  Can’t complain.  Haha, a penny earned indeed.  Speaking of which, I read the most delightful biography on Benjamin Franklin the other day.  Turns out he invented the lightning rod.  And bifocals!  Quite the renaissance man if I do say so myself.  Not like my state and local politicians!  I’ll tell you that.  The scallywags.  Ever with the lies and the misappropriations.  Why I have half a mind to march right down to city hall and…

Ok, this is exhausting.  But like a drug addict who says they can quit anytime, I can totally act like a grownup whenever I want.  This sort of stems from a recent conversation I had in which I realized the only thing I knew about the War of 1812 was that it happened in 1812.  And I was really only about 90% sure on that one.  I can tell you all about the Clone Wars though.  And that’s ok, because the way I see it, one of those wars has already happened and the other will never happen.  So given a choice of knowing about one, I’m going to choose lasers.  Every time.

Also I just realized that my model “adult” is quite possibly the Monopoly guy.

Anyway, every once in a while I’ll indulge in some food that doesn’t have a cartoon tie-in or come in colors not found anywhere in nature.  Some don’t even have high fructose corn syrup!  Take this ice cream for example.  Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams’ Goat Cheese with Red Cherries.  By Jove, that’s an adult’s ice cream if I’ve ever seen one.

Jeni’s has been on my radar for a while.  Several months ago they released an Influenza Sorbet based on ingredients in a family recipe for combating the flu.  But they had to change the name of said sorbet because dumb people were complaining that it wasn’t curing their flu.  Because, you know, there’s a cure for the flu.  I don’t think they sell that variation at all now.  Thanks dummies.

So when I spotted this pint at a recent wandering through a Fresh Market, I grabbed it with both hands!  Alright, I didn’t   I just used one hand.  Like normal.  Why would I exaggerate that?

According to the label, this is a blend Snowville Creamery milk, Snowville cream, and goat cheese from the Mackenzie Creamery in Northern Ohio.  It all sounds very sophisticated!  Swirled throughout all that awesomeness is a crimson ribbon of tart red cherries and Morello cherries.

Holy cow, you guys!  This stuff is my new favorite stuff of all the stuff.  The ice cream is beautifully smooth and rich, and the goat cheese adds an amazing savoriness and cheesecakey texture.  The cherries are very vibrant and balance the other ingredients perfectly in taste.  My only, and I mean only, complaint is that there are not nearly enough cherries in each pint.  I think I counted like four cherries in total!  The cherry swirl was a little lacking too.  Not lacking in flavor.  Lacking in being-thereness.  But I’m giving the benefit of the doubt and chalking that up to batch variation.

Raving despite those major issues is a testament to how good this ice cream is.  Fix those ratios and I would be snacking on this three times a day. I’d also be fat by summer and happily dead by the fall.

Jeni’s Splendid is a little pricier than a run of the mill pint.  Mine weighed in at $11, but it was absolutely worth it.  If you can find a Fresh Market in your area, get there, and get some.

You’ll thank me in a completely adult fashion later.  At the board meeting.  In our suits.  With our cigars.  And briefcases.  And firm handshakes.

Last week, I made my second appearance on the Nerd Lunch podcast.  This time around I joined the lads for an interesting thought experiment.

We all created  movie-themed restaurant menus (a la the Denny’s Hobbit menu) based on a movie and a restaurant each chosen by another member of the podcast.

It was awesome.

I whipped up a RoboCop menu for Olive Garden.

Pax created a Silence of the Lambs menu for Red Lobster.

Jeeg dreamt up a Red Dawn menu for IHOP.

And CT formulated a Buckaroo Banzai menu for Dairy Queen.

Excellent work was done all around.  And seriously, these eateries need to take advantage of our collective genius. Sales would go through the roof!

You can download the episode from iTunes (It’s episode #83). Or listen online here. Enjoy!

She held up the sleeve and said, “This looks like Jell-O 1-2-3.  Do you remember Jell-O 1-2-3?” I laughed and said of course I did.  I had it quite a few times in my youth.  My mom was always good with the Jell-O and the Jell-O pudding.

Then the part of my brain that is forever holding onto my dream of being a full time vintage food blogger lit up.  I took to the eBay, and sure enough, there was a box of unopened Jell-O 1-2-3 for sale.  I got into a minor bidding war with some other lunatic somewhere that was also trying to buy old Jell-O for some reason, but eventually I prevailed.  “Jell-O 1-2-3” is now a saved search term on my account, and I’ve since noticed that this stuff does not come up very often.  I’ve only seen one other box since winning this one. So clearly the food blogging gods were smiling on me that evening.  (That other box was older and Raspberry.  I tried to snag that one as well but was sniped at the last second.)

Now sadly, my two previous attempts at capturing some of the magic of the days of food gone by didn’t end very well.  But both of those were cereals.  I had hopes that because Jell-O 1-2-3 was a powder, it would hold up better against the ravages of time.  That’s just good science.

If you are unaware, Jell-O 1-2-3 was a product produced from 1969 to 1996.  It came in Strawberry, Raspberry, Orange, Cherry, and Lime.  It was a single bag of powder like regular Jell-O which you prepared with the aid of a blender.  After blending, you’d pour the frothed concoction into glasses and in a few hours, and with the help of the immutable laws of physics, the Jell-O would separate out into three layers of brightly colored goodness.  There’s a bottom gelatin layer, a middle layer that’s a little lighter, and then a very airy top layer.  C’est magnifique!

The Jell-O 1-2-3 Wikipedia entry is frustratingly short, coming in at only 78 words.  Sixteen of which are used to point out that Jell-O 1-2-3 was prepared in an episode of The Nanny.

There’s a petition online and sad little Facebook fan page advocating the unretiring of Jell-O 1-2-3, but nothing seems to be catching the attention of Jell-O.  Though weirdly enough, Kraft does have an official recipe on their website if you would like to attempt to recreate the magic of Jell-O 1-2-3.  I tried it and only got a layer of one.  But I think I used the wrong kind of Cool Whip, so I can’t say for sure if it’s legit. Lite Cool Whip is a thing, apparently.

According to the eBayer I transacted with, this box dates to the late 80s.  She mentioned a personal anecdote involving moving to a different house at that time as a point of reference.  I’ll have to take her word for it, so I’ll place it conservatively at 1989.  It could be later.  Who knows.

The box is in excellent condition and is currently being preserved for future generations in the same box that houses my complete line of seaQuest DSV action figures.  The inner bag was also intact.  Upon opening it, there was a very powerful strawberry nosegrope consistent with regular strawberry Jell-O.  Hope was starting to build!  I boiled the water, blended, and poured.   And in a few hours I was able to once again witness the layering majesty of Jell-O 1-2-3.  The layers weren’t as thick or even as the box would have you believe, but who cares?  Layers are layers, and they were beautiful!

Sadly snacklings, my vintage food blogging dreams are slipping away.  This Jell-O 1-2-3 still retains its wonderful strawberry flavor but it has been tainted by whatever it is that is lurking menacingly in the inner bag packaging.  It’s both cardboardy and plasticky.  The chemical flavor is not quite as strong as it was in the Batman and Bill and Ted cereals, but it’s there and it ruins all three parties.

Sigh.

In a world of on-demand everything, there is no reason we shouldn’t be able to order new batches of food from our past.  Ecto Cooler, Crystal Pepsi, Clearly Canadian.  Like they wouldn’t sell.  And I don’t know if you’ve been keeping track, but there are currently 19 varieties of Jell-O available and 24 varieties of Jell-O Pudding.  If Kraft is selling enough boxes of Margarita Jell-O and Flan flavored Jell-O Pudding to keep them on shelves, then surely they can make some Jell-O 1-2-3.  Come on Kraft.  Flan? Seriously.

Sorry to dash our collective 1-2-3 dreams, everyone.  But I haven’t given up hope yet!  And neither should you.  I just may have another powdered food up my sleeve.  Soon.

Soon.

I like Game of Thrones.  What with the nudity and fur and swords and all.  While I haven’t read the phonebook-sized tomes, I have seen every episode.  It’s a good show.  And I know it’s a good show because I keep watching it even though I have absolutely no idea what is going on.

Here’s what I remember of the plot.  There is an evil, well-bathed, effeminate blonde family who are really jerky and want to rule and have incestuous intercourse with each other.  Peter Dinklage is part of that family, and he’s fantastic in every way, but he doesn’t get into the whole having sex with a sibling thing.

Then there’s a brown-haired family who is a little dirtier and a little furrier and they’re wandering around because they used to rule the kingdoms (there’s like 22 kingdoms) but don’t rule anymore because the blonde family tricked them or something.  I think the brown dirties have a guy who lives at this mega wall in Siberia.  He keeps an eye out for snow zombies, who no one believes really exist, but totally do.  And the snow zombies are pissed because they’re snow zombies.

Then there’s a really hot chick that used to be married to a Klingon named Coal Dragon.  Her name is Cold Lisa.  She’s in charge of a brood of baby dragons and has a flock of poor people who follow her around the desert.  She wants to rule Middle Earth because she thinks her dragons automatically make her the queen or something.  I guess dragons are undefeatable, except that these dragons are the last three dragons so at some point someone must have defeated all of them.

And everyone is always talking about dads and brothers and sons.

And there are wolves and giants and castles and magic.  There’s always magic.  But it’s not like cool Harry Potter magic, it’s like religion magic.

It’s so good you guys!

So to celebrate the show’s third season premiere on HBO and every piracy site on the internet, Brewery Ommegang has released this Iron Throne Blonde Ale.  Because TV show tie-ins aren’t just for cereal anymore.

My first thought was why in the name of all that is medieval and muddy would you release a blonde ale?  It’s supposed to represent the clean, blonde family on the show.  I get that.  But come on.  This should be dark and thick and sludgy.  It should pour like syrup and have bits of elk gristle floating about in it.  Or at the barest of minimums leaves and twigs.  And it should come with a horn or leather pouch in which to pour it.  Or a mail-in offer with proofs of purchase where they’ll send you the hollowed out skull of one of your enemies from which to drink.

That being said, I enjoyed this beer.

My palate is at least three hand drawn mountain ranges over from being sensitive to the types of flavors beer aficionados are able to throw out, but I’ll do my best.  First off, it pours a beautiful murky amberish color with a tall frothy head and some pretty sticky lacing (Lacing! Look at me!).  The nosegrope is light and wheaty with citrus notes weaved in.

It drinks like a Belgian ale.  Not very hoppy.  Wheat and citrus.  Very light and smooth with a dry finish.

I enjoyed it thoroughly and would gladly drink it again.  Get some for the next episode.

I read somewhere they’re going to do a series of beers for the show.  I don’t know if that’s true, but I hope it is.  Whatever the next one is, it should come in a barrel. The snow zombies deserve at least a Smirnoff Ice.  Or as my friend Erik pointed out, Peter Dinklage needs his own beer, and it should come in a Red Stripe bottle.

Whatever it is they yell on Game of Thrones!!!

My lunatic sensors should have gone off then, but they didn’t   You see part of being a card-carrying nerd is wearing t-shirts that you hope other nerds will recognize and compliment you on.  It’s very validating. The shirt I am wearing is a mashup.  It has Admiral Ackbar on it with the word “trap” beneath, done in the style of Shepard Fairey’s Obama Hope poster.

I started to sense the guy wasn’t of my tribe, so I just said, it’s Star Wars.  In the hierarchy of people I wish to talk to, not knowing who Admiral Ackbar is puts you way down the ladder, only one level up from the bottom, which is reserved for people who like Carlos Mencia or who are Nazi war criminals.

Of course the conversation didn’t end there.  My response was taken as an invitation for this fruitcake to start babbling on about how there are a lot of lies going on right now and how it’s all going down at the end of this year. “Oh yea?” I responded, theatrically drawing my earbuds from my pocket, the universal indicator that this conversation will be wrapping up soon.  Undeterred he started talking about bank debt and mall bombings and the Russian mafia.  He asked me if I heard about “the thing in Cyprus.”  Some political thing.  I think he said Cyprus. I was mentally gauging the temperature of my coffee in case I had to wing it at him and break out.

My response was “No, I don’t follow anything ever.”  That seemed to slow him down, thankfully.  I started plugging in and left him rambling something about something.  I’m sure it involved UFOs or the president or Milo Rimbaldi.

Now, philosophically speaking, I fall into the camp of everything is ultimately meaningless and you should spend your time pursuing things that make you happy.  I come home from a job I tolerate, watch Family Matters reruns and bad movies, read books, nap, eat, blog, and talk to my friends.  I don’t know if I am happy, but I am contented enough that I don’t spend my nights staring into the endless chasm of nothingness that is existence.  Oh, and I like 90s pop music.

The thing I don’t understand about people who are way into politics and conspiracies and that whole deal is that they always seem stressed and unhappy.  Why spend your time studying and reading and writing and yelling about how screwed we are if it makes you so miserable?  Even if we are screwed, you’re not going to be able to do anything about it while sipping your Cinnamon Dolce.

So, instead, why don’t you, I dunno, go swimming?  Take a walk.  They’ve got all of Felicity on Netflix.  Chalupas are pretty good.

At the end of your life when they’re turning you into Soylent Green, you’re not going to look back and wish you’d spent more time being angry at your computer screen.

Ok, enough soapboxing.  Let’s all spend a few minutes of happiness together talking about these Caesar Salad Pringles.  They’re from Japan.

First off, the can.  I’ve never seen a tableau so fully realized on a snack package.

A Pringles chip and a lettuce leaf are tearing down an unpaved road away from the Hollywood sign in a bright pink convertible with steer horns on the grill.  They appear to have just collided with a little ramekin of salad dressing whose guts are splattering everywhere.  While I’m not 100% positive, I’m pretty sure this is a thrill killing.  This Pringle and Lettuce Leaf have just murdered this bowl of salad dressing.  It doesn’t appear to be accidental.  They don’t seem like they’re braking.  They don’t seem alarmed.  Lettuce Leaf clearly has an arm securely around Pringle.  What is up?  Perhaps Pringle has been coerced into going along for this murder ride.  Perhaps Pringle came to Hollywood with stars in her eyes, and now has fallen on hard times and is under the control of this adult film producer Lettuce Leaf.  Is there a drug angle?  Blackmail?

Whatever is going on here, it’s not good.  I hope Pringle can find her way out of this mess before it’s too late.

The muted nosegrope of these chips is reminiscent of Caesar salad dressing, but mostly it’s vinegar.

The flavor is not very strong either.  They do taste vaguely like a Caesar salad dressing, but again, it’s really just vinegar with some garlic.  Possibly some anchovy notes, but that could just be my imagination forcing the rest of the ingredients.  If I was blindfolded, I’m not sure I could tell what these were supposed to taste like.  Never good, for a chip flavor construction.

These are lackluster.  Stepping up the seasoning amount would’ve helped in pulling out some of the flavors, but what are you gonna do?  With a possible vehicular manslaughter arrest looming on the horizon, Pringle has bigger anchovies to fry.

It all starts with a product.  These days, I try to aim for the new or the novel.  I enjoy playing in the realm of the unusual.  The remarkable.  The pop culture tie-in products.  The bizarre foreign limited editions.  The vintage, no longer available relics.  The resurrected.

Picking the right product can be tricky.  But like great art or the love of your life, once you see it, you just know.  Sometimes I’ll pick a product because I think it’ll be fun to write about an experience or memory connected to it.  Sometimes I’ll pick something because its gimmick is contrived and insulting, so I can rage against it in all my self-righteous glory.  And sometimes I’ll pick something I know will be gross because, let’s face it, gross is fun.  (Reflect on your childhood here. Garbage Pail Kids, Gak, Madballs, et al.)

Once I obtain the perfect snack subject, I set up in my photo studio.  My studio is custom built.  Many contractors were contacted, many photographers were consulted before deciding on its ultimate design.

Ok, so my studio might be a wooden cutting board laid across my kitchen sink.

Why?  It’s all about the lighting.  The windows in my apartment face north, so in general it’s a dark cave at almost any hour of the day.  If you look back at some early posts, I tried a few locations hoping to capture some natural light, but that proved impractical.  I considered buying a small light tent (like a grownup would), but then I discovered the bright white fluorescent light above the aforementioned sink. I haven’t looked back since.

The star of every photo session…you know him…you love him…The Snack Trooper!  Using my Clone Trooper was an idea I had from the very beginning.  I’d like to think it was a grand moment of inspiration, but really, I just thought it would be funny to take pictures of an action figure posing with food.  I still think it is.

Food Junk trivia factoid #1: The Snack Trooper is a Star Wars Saga Collection: Episode III Combat Engineer Clone Trooper purchased from my local comic shop, Emerald City Comics.

Food Junk trivia factoid #2:  There have been two Snack Troopers.  Sadly, the original lost a hand a few months ago.  Looking back, the accident now seems inevitable.  But when a 3 and ¾ inch friend of yours is in the throes of Ketchup Salt and pastry-based alcohol addiction, you find yourself trying to ignore the signs.

After the accident, the original Snack Trooper retired from modeling, though he still works in the Food Junk corporate offices.  Mostly clerical work.  He is currently working the steps to overcome his history with substance abuse.

See, I told you there’d be some drug stuff.

Photo sessions usually take about 20 minutes.  Unless I can’t get the little bastard to stand up right.  Or if I can’t think of a pose.  And sometimes I really can’t.  I fear I may be running out of poses.  What do I do then?  Shut it down?  Start a new blog?  Bring in a vintage Porkins for posing support?

Food Junk trivia factoid #3: All drinks are photographed using a shot glass I stole from the Robin Hood, a diner/bar in Livingston Manor, New York. I patronized this place frequently in my previously mentioned camp counselor days.  It is the simplest and purest shot glass in my collection which was amassed during my adventures in Food Junk: The College Years.

Once the snacks are opened for photographing, tasting is quick to follow.  Rarely do I finish a whole snack or drink at a single sitting, and frequently does my dogfriend Windsor get to sample the goods.  I like to think he runs a very niche, human food blog for dogs when I’m in bed.  (Note to self: movie idea. Talking dogs who blog in secret. Possibly discover food conspiracy.  Maggie Gyllenhaal plays a droopy-faced bloodhound.  Special effects not required.)

Then comes the review.  What I love about writing is the sudden Matrix moment where every idea becomes clear and connected, and you know immediately how everything is going to fit together, and  it’s so awesome that you start doing shirtless kung fu moves while your wife’s asleep.  There’s nothing better.

Then there are the instances where I have absolutely nothing.  For days.  Nothing.  Not one pathetic shred of an idea.  No connections.  No references.  Not even a frame story.  Frame stories are the name I have given to my often pointless non-food related ramblings that I wrap my little reviews in.  Really, have you ever compared the total number of words in one of my reviews with the number of words actually about food?  It’s ridiculous.

I’ve never abandoned a review due to writer’s block, but that’s not to say I wouldn’t.  Stranger things have happened (dog blogging).

Tehn, of coarse, the edditing, both photo and textual.  After that, everything is uploaded and smeared across various social media outlets, and I wait with bated breath, hoping to wake up the following morning to a few nice comments from you, my beloved reader.

I’d love to blather on some more about my thoughts on creativity or writing or motivation, but I’m starting to feel self-conscious about how self-centered this is, and great Odin’s ravens, this post is out-of-control long already.  If you stuck it out this far, good on you.

Let’s get to the snack.  You may have forgotten there was going to be a review today.

But here it is, all the way from Japan, Maxim Oreo Cappuccino Instant Drink Mix.  It’s made by Maxim Stick Menu.  I think that’s the company.  Or maybe Maxim is the company and Stick Menu is the product line?  I dunno.  They make other drink mixes like Matcha Latte and Strawberry Latte.

This was a new experience for me, in that, this was the first Japanese product I ordered because I thought it would actually taste really good.  When I go for the chips or the sodas, I never know what to expect.  I think some might be ok or even fairly decent, but never really good.  I was hoping this would be really good.

The nosegrope was not very exciting.  It smelled of your run-of-the-mill, Swiss Miss or comparable hot cocoa mix.

The taste itself was also rather unremarkable.  Instead of the beautiful blend of the essences of Oreo and coffee that I was hoping for, it was just some cocoa mix with a slight bent toward a darker chocolate.  On the plus side, it’s not an overly sweet, which was nice. This seems to be aimed at an adult audience.

I certainly didn’t taste any of the coffee flavor implied by the cappuccino mention.  Though if they produce a Strawberry Latte drink which I’m assuming isn’t coffee flavored, then perhaps “cappuccino” might just be referring to any creamy or frothy drink.  Seems a devil may care.

Being raised in the U.S. and deprived of familiarity with the metric system, I had to look up the amount of water I needed to add to the mix.  Turns out, 130 milliliters is about 4.5 ounces.  Yes, 4.5 ounces.  Adorable to be sure, but as an American it felt like a sample cup one would receive at a grocery store.  The low water to mix ratio did provide a nice, thick, creamy beverage, but on my second helping, I upped the water to one cup, using only one packet of mix. The flavors and consistency suffered a little but not too much.

There’s nothing wrong with this cocoa mix.  But it was decidedly underwhelming.  I have two sticks left, so if you’d like to share in the uninspiration of this product, let me know in the comments.  I’ll send a stick out to the first two comment requests.

Total number of words in this review: 1354

Total number involving this product: 353

That’s 26%.  Ridiculous.

No, I’m not in the throes of a fever dream.  No, I’m not having a stroke.  It’s just some Pokémon.

During my college years, I spent my summers working as a counselor at a summer camp in the Catskills.  While there, I met a ton of great people from all around the world, did the only real partying of my life, and was able to locate the whitest trash person that has ever lived.  He was the caretaker of the camp, who I’m sure only even had a name because the government requires it.  Seriously, he made those rustic scamps from Deliverance look like tenured Oxford professors.  I also met the awesome lady who would eventually become my wife (she worked in the arts and crafts barn and gave me a pillow shaped like Dan from the Real World Miami).

It was good times.

My first summer there, in 1999, Pokémon was huge.  Whenever my campers had any downtime before lunch, dinner, or lights out, every kid in the bunk would bust out his Gameboy and go at his copy of Pokémon Red, Blue, or Yellow.  After a few weeks, the kids eventually convinced me to buy a Gameboy and a copy of the game.  I got it at the “local” Walmart.  Only 30 miles away!  It remains the only Gameboy game I’ve ever owned.

I got completely hooked on it! Nearly 90 hours of Yellow gameplay that summer, and that’s not counting the countless hours spent talking strategy with my campers.  I tried to keep up with the game in the months after camp, but it wasn’t the same.  A solo PokéMaster is a lonely PokéMaster.

I’ve contemplated jumping back into some of the newer games, but now it looks completely over my head.  And I don’t have any knowledgeable 12 year olds to explain everything to me.

Instead, I triumphantly return to the world of the pocket monster in packaged drink form! I picked this up at the Japan Pavilion on my last trip to Epcot.  I don’t really know a lot about it because the site referenced on the pouch is in Japanese. I think it’s made by a company called Dragonfly.

What I can tell you is that it’s a sports drink, and I know this because of the following blurbs on the product page that have been translated Googley:

“I love everyone! Soft pouch convenient to carry the character of Pokémon. Person to accompany and outdoor exercise.”

“I is well-suited to replenish the fluid lost during exercise and sports festival, the children in the outdoors.”

I’m calling it Pokémon Sports Water.  The pouches also come in Grape, Muscat, and Apple.

The nosegrope is slightly citrusy.  It reminded me of a muted whiff of Sunny Delight.

The taste is hard to pin down so I’m going to use another comparison.  It reminded me of Arctic Shatter Powerade.  That flavor was rebranded as White Cherry, which I did not understand because I didn’t think it tasted like cherry, which makes this all the more confusing.  It has a mild level of sweetness.  It’s sort of citrusy.  A little like flat Sprite.  And you can definitely tell it’s a sports drink.  You wouldn’t mistake it for a juice.

It’s not bad.  I’ve had flavors of Gatorade that I haven’t liked as much. They should really bring these out of the back of the store and sell them iced out front. They’d be great for high noon theme park hydration.

So the next time you’re schlepping past the pagoda or out at a sports festival and you’re feeling Mega Drained, reach for a pouch of Pokémon Sports Water for a quick Replenish of your HP.  It’s super effective!

But my life shan’t really be affected, as I head out to the beach once every two years or so.  Who could be bothered?  Anakin was right.  Sand is the worst.  That’s where all his anger started.

My younger, college-aged, Hawaiian shirt-sporting, puka-shell-necklace-wearing, roofless-doorless-Jeep-Wrangler-driving, Jimmy-Buffet-listening, 8-earring-rocking, blonde-tipped-spiky-hair-having self would be ashamed.  Ashamed I tell you! I had a semester a friend and I dubbed the Semester at Sea because of the frequency of our beach excursions.

I used to walk into class with sand on me!  There wasn’t a time when you wouldn’t find a body board in my backseat! I was a walking bronze billboard for bad college phasery.

But that guy drowned in the gulf somewhere along the way, and now I’m a pale bitter old man.  So don’t even think of tracking any of that damn sand in here.  You hear me?!  I mean it!

So while we’ve got about a month left of the brutal Florida winter (I think we had a low of 46 degrees), I thought I should review the latest winter release from Pepsi Japan.

Pepsi Japan is never short on interesting seasonal releases, though this Pepsi White Orange is a far less unusual proposition than their previous Pepsi Pink and Salty Watermelon.  I bought this through NapaJapan, my go-to Japanese importer (I don’t get anything for saying that), who listed this flavor as “mikan,” and as I speak no Japanese, I’ll take their word for it.  Mikan is a seedless orange found in Japan.  It’s also called the Satsuma.  I’m embarrassed to say that I only became familiar with that word through its frequent referencing on the always great The Mighty Boosh.

As with previous limited editions, the bottle is great.  And that snowman with an orange for a nose is adorable.

The nosegrope is very lightly orange.  A gentle orange wisp, if you will.  It’s a few steps removed from a straight, violently orange-colored orange soda.

The first thing that stands out is that the orange flavor is very light. It’s orange flavor like you’d find in other sodas, but dialed way down.  It’s layered over a fairly recognizable Pepsi base.  As a whole it retains a surprising amount of Pepsi flavors.  I don’t know how they did that while keeping the soda hazily white. I know for a fact that oranges are orange in nature and Pepsi pods are always dark brown when they are perfectly ripe.

Pepsi White Orange also has a pretty heavy mouthfeel.  Its sticky after the fact, which I guess is good, because you want all the extra mouth insulation you can get during the frigid days of winter.  Uvula freezing affects one out of every ten people.  We all need to raise awareness.

It also seems more lightly carbonated than Pepsi proper.

Overall, this is an enjoyable soda.  It’s not wildly outlandish or weird for the sake of being weird.  It could be a day brightener for those in northern climes suffering through grey skies and inches of snow, or it could be just another quirky accessory for those farther south, trying on personalities while making poor life decisions. Just think how good it would look sticking out of a sand-flecked cooler.  That’s a snow globe idea if I’ve ever heard one.

Happy spring everyone!  Please don’t come to Florida!

And I reviewed it on The Impulsive Buy.

And if you’ve missed my other reviews on The Impulsive Buy, why not pour yourself a tumbler of Black Energy, put on some cozies, stoke the fire, and catch up.

Seaweed Pringles from Thailand

CMMG Tactical Bacon

Salty Watermelon Pepsi from Japan

Good Humor’s Peppermint Pattie Ice Cream Bars and Mounds Ice Cream Bars

G.H. Cretors Popped Corn

The Better Chip’s All Natural Tortilla Chips