REVIEW: Goya Cola Champagne

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

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

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.

ANNOUNCEMENT: New Impulsive Buy Writer Stacey

Hello The Impulsive Buy readers! You’ve probably figured out by now that I’m the new writer around here, but since we didn’t get to properly meet, please allow me to properly introduce myself.

Hi! I’m Stacey.

You may remember me from such websites as Pajiba and Webster’s is My Bitch. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to write for The Impulsive Buy. Well, OK, it’s actually only been two years or so. But that’s kind of a really long time for me because the era of viral and memes has rendered me with an incredibly short attention span.

Like Kayla, I also hail from Philadelphia — West Philly to be exact, (like the Fresh Prince!) where I have only been the victim of one incident of crime since I moved here about a year ago. Normally I don’t like to go on like this since I like to keep a certain “air of mystery” about myself, much like a box of wine that you took the bag out of the box to make it fit in a crowded refrigerator better, only to have forgotten what flavor of wine it was. Although if I know myself — and I think I do — it was probably Pinot Grigio.

At any rate, I wasn’t always a pop culture writer. I graduated from Pennsylvania’s famed Kutztown University with a degree in graphic design but after working a few jobs that turned me sour on the field I settled into the glamorous world of blogging. And by glamorous I mean that often I work while not wearing any pants and that sometimes I take showers and then put pajamas on. Try that at some fancy-schmancy high rise!

I’m really looking forward to writing more reviews for The Impulsive Buy, and consuming a vast array of products which will probably endanger my health in the long run for your entertainment. Seriously, with some of the crap Marvo eats I would be surprised if he had a life expectancy beyond the age of forty-two. But hey, that’s just what separates The Impulsive Buy writers and everyone else who doesn’t live on the edge.

REVIEW: Panda Express SweetFire Chicken Breast

I sometimes wonder if Panda Express would exist if it didn’t have its Orange Chicken. Despite it being one of the unhealthiest items to come out of their gigantic woks, there’s something about the lightly battered chicken that radiates a hot coal-like orange glow that makes people yearn for it, like a baby yearns for a nipple. I’m not sure what draws taste buds to it, but perhaps it is its sweet sauce; or it lacks the nuisance of vegetable or fruit chunks; or because it’s the least Asian sounding dish.

If their Orange Chicken just happens to disappear from their menu or the serving tray is currently empty and you don’t want to wait a few minutes for the wok handlers to whip up another batch of the non-authentic Chinese dish, the new Thai-inspired Panda Express SweetFire Chicken Breast makes a great replacement.

The SweetFire Chicken Breast is made up of crispy, white meat chicken with red bell peppers, sliced onions, and pineapple chunks tossed with a sweet chili sauce. Panda Express says their new dish is “an exotic fusion of flavors.” But I say it’s “an obvious fusion of a few of their existing dishes.” The breaded white meat chicken is like their Orange Chicken, red bell peppers and onions are found in their Beijing Beef, and pineapple chunks are also in their Sweet Sour Pork.

It’s like they used the Taco Bell Technique, which involves taking their existing ingredients, placing them around an empty bottle, spinning the bottle to pick ingredients, selecting enough ingredients to have a regulation orgy, putting all of those ingredients in a room and letting nature take its course.

The Sweet Fire Chicken Breast’s sweet chili sauce is quite tasty, although I wish its flavor was a bit more punchy. The sauce has red pepper flakes in it, but don’t let them fool you because they don’t make the sauce very spicy. I felt a very light burn, but I wish it was a bit spicier. I also thought the sauce’s sweetness could be kicked up a little.

The chicken was tender and crispy. The onions and bell peppers gave the dish some crunch, along with a little flavor. As for the pineapples, I always find it odd when they’re added to a heated dish, like a “Hawaiian” Pizza or Panda Express’ Sweet Sour Pork, because I think it’s weird to eat hot fruit. But the pineapples in this dish helped make up for the sauce’s lack of sweetness.

If the Pandapocalypse happens and Orange Chicken is taken away, don’t fret my fake Chinese food loving friends, because the tasty Panda Express SweetFire Chicken Breast will satisfy your hunger for a sweet crispy chicken dish that’s just as unhealthy as Orange Chicken.

(Nutritional Facts – 5.8 ounces – 440 calories, 18 grams of fat, 3.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 45 milligrams of cholesterol, 370 milligrams of sodium, 53 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 27 grams of sugar and 17 grams of protein.)

Item: Panda Express SweetFire Chicken Breast
Price: $6.50 (2 choice plate)
Size: 5.8 ounces
Purchased at: Panda Express
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Tasty sweet chili sauce. Contains vegetables, which give the dish a crunch. Makes a nice replacement for Orange Chicken.
Cons: I wish the sweet chili sauce was a bit spicier. Pineapples seem weird in the dish. The Pandapocalypse. Just as unhealthy as Orange Chicken. An obvious fusion of a few of their existing dishes. The Taco Bell Technique for creating new dishes.