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REVIEW: Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink (Canada)

Written by | June 4, 2014

Topics: 0 Rating, Alcohol

Mott's Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink

Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink is the worst thing I’ve ever had. Note that I didn’t say that it’s the worst alcoholic drink I’ve ever had. Or even the worst beverage I’ve ever had. It’s so much worse than that. It is the worst thing I’ve ever ingested — and as a kid I ate an entire sample-sized tube of toothpaste on a dare.

Yes, eating toothpaste straight from the tube is better than this.

I honestly don’t even know how to describe the flavour. It’s piercing and relentless. It is a dentist’s drill, screaming into your taste buds, forever changing you. Haunting you.

It starts with a base of the worst tomato juice you can imagine. I guess that’s just Clamato — however, I felt compelled to try Clamato on its own for the purposes of this review, and it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t good, certainly, but at least I could drink it without triggering my gag reflex.

The ingredient list contains both onion and garlic as well as onion powder and garlic powder. This is stuff that can be quite tasty in other contexts, but here it seems laser-honed to make this drink as astringently foul as humanly possible.

Worst of all is the face-slappingly aggressive fake bacon flavour. You don’t notice it right away, but then it comes in hard and fast, lingering on your palate long after it has worn out its welcome. If you’ve tried one of those fake bacon products that were all the rage a couple of years back (bacon salt, bacon mayo, etc.) then you basically know what to expect — only multiplied ten-fold. This is extra strength fake bacon flavour. It is in your face and out of control. It will make you wonder why you like bacon in the first place.

Mott's Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink Closeup

I will say that the other flavours here (the disgusting ones) are so powerful that you can barely even tell you’re drinking alcohol until the buzz starts setting in. I’m sure the vodka adds some additional bitterness, but it’s so thoroughly masked by everything else that you’d have a hard time placing it. So if you’re the type of person who doesn’t like the taste of alcohol, well… Nope, I can’t finish that sentence. Even if you dislike alcohol, you’ll dislike this more. Because it is the worst.

I don’t think I’ve adequately described the horrors of this drink. I don’t have the words. Each sip was seemingly worse than the last. I knew that, for the purposes of the review, I needed to take at least one big swig rather than the tentative sips that it otherwise demanded. The prospect of this terrified me. No good could come of it. Eventually, I gathered up my courage and took a big, hearty gulp; it was like an assault. I let out a primal, guttural groan. I wanted to pass out from the awfulness.

Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink filled me with a kind of existential dread; if a mass-market product this horrible can exist, what does it all mean? What’s the point of even getting up in the morning if a big company like Mott’s can inflict something so odious on the public with such shocking ease? A product this bad is criminal. I demand public trials and jail sentences.

I will admit that I’m not a big Caesar guy, but I had a couple of other people try it as well (because misery loves company), including one person who has Caesars semi-regularly. Both agreed it was the worst. One person decried that his taste buds were forever ruined; the other took one swig, shook his head with a very declarative “No,” and dumped the rest down the sink.

The issue of how best to remove that taste from our mouths was discussed. We all agreed that a thorough toothbrushing followed by mouthwash was probably the best course of action. Even then, the taste lingered. It’s gone now, but the memory remains. I will carry it with me for as long as I live. I will never forget.

(Nutrition Facts – Not available on can.)

Item: Mott’s Clamato Caesar Bacon Vodka Drink
Purchased Price: $2.80 CAN
Size: 458 ml can
Purchased at: LCBO
Rating: 0 out of 10
Pros: It is so unspeakably awful it will give you an added appreciation for everything else in your life; after all, no matter how bad things are, you could be drinking this drink.
Cons: Horrible aftertaste. Horrible duringtaste. Horrible everythingtaste. If there is a hell, this is all they serve there. If the worst pain you’ve ever experienced — emotional or physical — could be distilled into a flavour, it would taste like this.

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REVIEW: Sonic Jalapeño Chocolate Shake

Written by | May 9, 2014

Topics: 0 Rating, Fast Food, Sonic

Sonic Jalapen?o Chocolate Shake Cup

Waaay back on April 1st, Sonic Drive-In announced their newest shake – the Kale Cream Pie Shake.

Sound horrifyingly disgusting? That’s because it was an April Fool’s joke. It was a promotional gag for their Summer of Shakes, which includes Oreo Peanut Butter, Salted Caramel, and Chocolate Covered Jalapeño.

Does that last one sound horrifyingly disgusting? That’s because it was an Apri- oh, shit. It wasn’t a joke. The Sonic Chocolate Covered Jalapeño Shake is real.

When I got my shake, I was disappointed it came in a pedestrian Styrofoam cup. The promo pictures had a clear cup that showed little pepper pieces in the shake, as well as jalapeño pieces on the whipped cream. Presumably, this is why it was initially called the Chocolate Covered Jalapeño Shake, but is now called the Jalapeño Chocolate Shake.

It looked so innocent at first. Just a chocolate shake. I dipped a spoon into the cup, expecting to come up with some little pieces, but instead I found…

Sonic Jalapen?o Chocolate Shake Jalapen?o Slice

Yeah. Whole sliced jalapeños, right in the shake. What the fuck.

Sonic Jalapen?o Chocolate Shake Glass

Wanting a better look, I unceremoniously dumped the shake into a glass, and the results gave me no encouragement.

Using a straw with my shake, as God intended, it initially tasted like a chocolate shake that was somehow…off. If I didn’t know there were peppers in it, I would have tasted it and thought, huh, they did something weird to this. There wasn’t any real spiciness to it, just an offness, like maybe the chocolate syrup had gone bad. I’ve never had the experience of tasting that, but that’s the closest I could come to a comparison.

And then I sucked in my first piece of jalapeño.

You know how sometimes you’ll get a chunky shake and accidentally suck a piece straight to the back of your throat? That’s exactly what happened to me. But, instead of a delicious piece of Oreo cookie, it was a motherfucking jalapeño.

And not just some pedestrian pickled jalapeño, either. A fresh jalapeño.

I did that thing where you use your tongue to move the piece back to the front of your mouth and started chewing it, but the damage had already been done. Jalapeño juice burned the back of my throat, causing me to choke and gag a little.

After getting over that, I chewed the jalapeño piece. My poor mouth was so confused. “I love jalapenos!” Some of my taste buds said. “I love chocolate shake!” others joined in enthusiastically. But then the two clashed, and both sides screamed.

“AAAAHHHHHHH THIS IS SO WRONG WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO US!”

“WE LOVE JALAPENOS WHY IS THERE CHOCOLATE SHAKE IN HERE!”

“WE LOVE CHOCOLATE SHAKE WHY ARE THERE JALAPENOS IN HERE!”

At this point, I was chatting with a friend, who kindly informed me, “I heard you don’t get the full effect unless you muddle it first.”

I hated this idea with a passion. But I had to admit he was probably right.

So I smashed my straw down into the glass, hearing the sickening squish of peppers releasing their capsaicin like a hundred villagers being reduced to a slick yet chunky mash of viscera under the foot of a vengeful giant.

Did I mention that I hate this friend?

What was once an off-tasting chocolate shake with the occasional nasty jalapeño surprise turned into a creamy drink of unending horror. The peppers had now blended efficiently with the chocolate shake, resulting in a taste that, and I’m not over-exaggerating for effect here, made me think I might vomit.

All that pepper taste that had been released and was now free to mix with the chocolate and ice cream, and it’s hard to even describe the outcome. It wasn’t just spicy chocolate. It was jalapeño peppers a la mode with some chocolate. It was bitter and sickly sweet and spicy and sad and I honestly made that face you’d make if a hippo flung poo into your open mouth.

After a few sips, I could take no more. What the hell was I going to do with this thing? I was afraid if I tossed it down the kitchen sink, I might actually toss my cookies along with it.

So I did the only thing I could – I chucked it into the dumpster outside. I should have covered it with cow excrement to make a more pleasant smell or burned that dumpster down and buried the ashes. But that’s probably a felony, so I just threw it in there and hoped no dumpster divers had the misfortune of finding it before it went to the landfill.

I’ve eaten a lot of terrible things in my journey as a food reviewer, but there are a few that really stand out. The #1 on my list has always been Jones Bacon Flavored Soda, and I was reminded of it often as I tried to down the Sonic Jalapeño Chocolate Shake.

With both I experienced a grey, mushy feeling of wrongness deep inside my soul; a knowledge that this is an experience that will stay with me forever; nausea; and the idea that a company had taken a flavor I loved and ruined it forever. Two flavors, in this case.

I really thought I would hate the Sonic Jalapeño Chocolate Shake before I tried it, but thought it wouldn’t be as bad as I’d anticipated. I was wrong. It is so, so much worse.

(Nutrition Facts – Small size — 670 calories, 280 calories from fat, 31 grams of total fat, 23 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 100 milligrams of cholesterol, 480 milligrams of sodium, 89 grams of total carbohydrates, 0 grams of dietary fiber, 56 grams of sugar, 8 grams of protein, 20% vitamin A, 1% vitamin C, 26% calcium, and 5% iron..)

Item: Sonic Jalapeño Chocolate Shake
Purchased Price: $3.49
Size: Small
Purchased at: Sonic
Rating: 0 out of 10
Pros: The chocolate shake only tasted “off” before I muddled it. I guess using fresh jalapeño peppers deserves a mention? The cherry on top hadn’t touched the shake, so it was okay.
Cons: Muddling the jalapeños was the worst idea in the world. Um, everything about this shake is a terrible idea. Sonic had the audacity to charge me an extra $0.60 for the jalapeños, for some reason. Burning public dumpsters is probably illegal. Fuck you for scarring my soul, Sonic.

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REVIEW: Lester’s Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda

Written by | July 1, 2013

Topics: 0 Rating, Soda

Lester's Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda

Do you ever just sit around your house on the internet and think that you’ve seen it all? Think that there is nothing left to look up? Nothing left to read about?

You’ve read Benjamin Franklin’s “Fart Proudly” essay like three times, you know all of the inventors killed by their own inventions, and you have the formula for OpenCola committed to memory.

I think that sometimes when I’m staring at my screen trying to find how I can change the blink rate of the cursor in Microsoft Word (Accessibility options).

Then I get a bottle of Ranch Dressing Soda in the mail and am ecstatic to have a few more minutes of fresh internet excavating to keep me busy.

I have to admit I was ignorant of the history of ranch dressing. As such an American staple, you’d think it would be right there in our high school history book glossaries, wedged in between Radical Republicans and ratification. But it’s not.

Did you know that ranch dressing, which is the number one salad dressing in the U.S., didn’t exist until the 1950s? I had no idea. I thought it was like the Mississippi and had just been around since time immemorial. But it hasn’t. It was invented by a couple at the Hidden Valley Ranch in California. The Hidden Valley Ranch! It was a real place! It must’ve been magical there. I also found out that Wish-Bone was a real restaurant, and get this, Paul Newman was a real guy! Crazy!

Ok so that’s really the whole story. They made it at their ranch and people liked it and they started selling it and then Clorox bought the rights to it.

Cut to a half a century later and we have Lester’s Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda. I’m not sure if the Hensons of Hidden Valley would approve of what has become of their majestic concoction.

This is one of the latest offerings from the novelty soda company, Rocket Fizz, in their line of Lester’s Fixins sodas. Lester’s Fixins seems to be the product line where Rocket Fizz showcases their most unusual (read: grossest) flavors. Its sister soda line, Melba’s Fixins offers slightly less disturbing flavors like Apple Pie, Lemon Merengue Pie, and Sweet Tea.

I must say it’s good to see a small upstart take aim at a market dominated for too long by Jones Soda! Thinking you’re all cool with your Egg Nog and your Road Kill flavors! Take that Jones! (I have no stake in this fight.)

Lester's Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda Bottle Closeup

Right out of the box, I’m not a huge fan of the packaging. It could be punched up a bit. Seems a little too DIY. But maybe that’s what they were going for.

Also, of all the colors that a liquid can take, I argue that none is more repellant than a murkily translucent shade of white (shiver). I’ll take your foulest shades of green of brown any day.

Lester's Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda Liquid

The nosegrope is not of food or beverage. It’s a subtle blend of paint and new cardboard. Not old, ratty cardboard. New cardboard, like a box you’d buy for moving day. A nice box.

The soda is surprisingly sweet. Almost like it has a sugared up Sprite base. The sweetness hits your tongue a split second before the wave of absolute heinousness comes crashing down upon it.

Lester's Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda Ingredients

When I blog about vintage cereals, those that are decades past their expiration date, the cereals always take on a plastic chemical flavor from their containing bag. This soda tastes like that. Like it’s been sitting around in a waxy plastic bag leaching chemicals for decades. It. Is. Foul. And that foulness is sharp and coats your mouth in a repellant sticky film that refuses to go away.

I expected this to be bad, but my expectations were exceeded. This doesn’t taste like any ranch dressing I’ve ever had. And if there is a ranch dressing being made somewhere that tastes like this, the residents of that ranch need to be evacuated immediately because there has been some kind of breach at the nuclear plant upriver. The cows may already be dead.

(Editor’s Note: Thanks to Impulsive Buy reader Jonathan for sending us a bottle of Lester’s Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda.)

(Nutrition Facts – 12 ounces – 170 calories, 0 grams of fat, 0 grams of saturated fat, 25 milligrams of sodium, 43 grams of carbohydrates, 42 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein.)

Item: Lester’s Fixins Ranch Dressing Soda
Purchased Price: N/A
Size: 12 ounces
Purchased at: Rocket Fizz
Rating: 0 out of 10
Pros: Absolutely nothing.
Cons: Taste. Smell. Color. Bottle.

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REVIEW: Jones Bacon Flavored Soda

Written by | November 15, 2010

Topics: 0 Rating, Jones Soda, Soda

Jones Bacon Flavored Soda

Sometimes I feel like I’m the lamest member of the Jackass crew.

I’m not willing to get kicked in the balls, have animals attack me on purpose, sit in a port-a-potty that’s about to get knocked over, or get my ass cheeks pierced together, but I’m willing to eat fast food items with 1,500+ milligrams of sodium and drink Jones Soda’s Bacon Flavored Soda.

There isn’t a word in any language that properly describes how vile this bacon flavored soda tastes. Shit, I’m surprised I mustered the courage to taste it because a foul stench of artificial bacon wafted into my nasal passages as I brought my mouth towards the opening of the bottle. The smoky, nauseating aroma put my entire digestive system into defensive mode.

Its flavor is extremely potent. It’ll grow hair on your chest, and if you’re somehow able to drink an entire bottle, it’ll probably grow a third nipple, as well. The bacon soda’s smoky and sweet flavor tastes like Jones Soda figured out a way to bottle the things that make babies cry: smoke and candy taken away from babies.

Speaking of crying, drinking it made me tear up. It wasn’t a happy cry or a sad cry, it was more of a frantic “Mommy! Please make it stop!” cry.

I only sipped my way though one-fifth of a bottle because sipping the reddish bacon soda is a chore. Every sip warranted several chasers of something that would get rid of that godawful taste from my mouth.

While those chasers helped wash away the flavor from my taste buds, they did nothing for the memories etched into my brain. Each sip made those grooves deeper and deeper, and it already has reached to the point where just the thought of this bacon soda makes me gag.

While my experience with it was bad, I really feel sorry for the Jones Soda employee or intern who had to taste test all the prototype versions of the Jones Bacon Flavored Soda. Because if the final version is horrible, all the test versions of it must have been worse.

I hate to say this, but I think Jones Bacon Flavored Soda has ruined bacon for me. I’ve said on a number of occasions that bacon makes everything better, but this limited edition bacon flavored soda proved me wrong. Now, just the thought of a bacon cheeseburger makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

Thanks, Jones Soda!

(Nutrition Facts – 1 bottle/12 ounces – 10 calories, 0 grams of fat, 516 milligrams of sodium, 2 grams of carbohydrates, 0 grams of sugar and 0 grams of protein.)

Other Jones Bacon Flavored Soda reviews:
Junk Food Betty
BevReview
Dave’s Cupboard

Item: Jones Bacon Flavored Soda
Price: $9.99 (Bacon soda set)
Size: 2-12 ounce bottles
Purchased at: Jones Soda Website
Rating: 0 out of 10
Pros: There’s a bacon flavored soda. Only 10 calories. May get you to quit bacon.
Cons: Godawful. Hard to get. Pricey. Artificial bacon stench. Ruined bacon for me. The prototype versions of this soda. Makes me cry. Its flavor is etched into my brain.

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REVIEW: Cheese Omelet with Vegetables Power Performance MRE (Meals Ready to Eat)

Written by | November 11, 2008

Topics: 0 Rating, Food

Don’t get me wrong. I may be a passive pacifist, but I’m not one of those beatniks who believe that everything can be solved without violence. Somebody has to be the bully or the badass with the poo on the stick once in awhile, but Jack Bauer’s chewing Doublemint gum right now, so he’s a bit too busy to kick ass, and Chuck Norris is retired from Delta Force…which is why we have military forces to take their place, armed with state-of-the-art weapons and MREs (Meals Ready to Eat).

Cheese Omelet with Vegetables Power Performance MRE is fairly low in calories and quite nutritious for something its size, but that comes with a caveat. It’s got the longest list of ingredients for an omelet I’ve ever seen. Here’s a quick rundown of what it contains (which is only a wee fraction of the entire list): liquid eggs, cottage cheese, green chilies, mozzarella, water, cream, modified starch, and about seven or eight preservatives. It’s just like dear old grandma’s secret recipe for a prize-winning omelet (incidentally, I’m still waiting for her to pass on her coveted buck cake recipe)! It’s supposedly designed to last for at least 14 years, which explains the caveat, I guess. It’s also packed so full of cholesterol that the plaque-y goodness must aid the preservation process.

I tore open this bag to find myself utterly devoid of patriotism. I knew that MREs had a bad reputation, but this was completely uncalled for. It belongs on a stick…a very long stick. It tastes like crap and quite frankly it reminds me of really terrible and rancid coffee, which dominates the palate, both on and off the tongue. The texture is basically what you’d expect; extra congealed and crumbly, with the dryness of extra hard boiled egg yolks despite an eerie moistness, which is the only thing remotely egg-y about this thing. The veggies were a lost cause as well, since their flavors were completely dominated and their texture was soggier than wet toilet paper. It smelled like really bad tin can food.

I tried to play with it and build little mounds of crap for my green soldiers to march over, but my wee plastic commandos mutinied and started an underground bordello for G.I. Joes and Mr. Potato Heads. This thing is completely irredeemable and worthless like Switzerland’s military might. It’s a giant fuck you to our soldiers, who deserve better like laser ray guns that go pew pew or robot butlers/maids.

At least it comes with a sah-weet brown spoon. Let me tell you, this spoon is truly badass compared to all the other wimpy plastic spoons out there. It’s frickin’ Schwarzenegger from Commando or Terminator 2. This spoon is bigger, stronger, thicker, and heavier than your average plastic spoon. It’s brown so you can eat this crap without breaking your camouflage cover, if the smell didn’t give you away first. It’s also strong enough that it can be used as a weapon of minor destruction if one finds themselves without anything else after killing too many sissy minions. Now that’s American justice: death by plastic spoon. Too bad it’s not a spork.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 mysterious package – 300 calories, 16 grams of fat, 4.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 530 milligrams of cholesterol, 680 milligrams of sodium, 14 grams of carbohydrates, 1 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugar, and 23 grams of protein.)

Item: MRE – Cheese Omelet with Vegetables

Price: $4.45
Size: 8 ounces
Purchased at: eBay
Rating: 0 out of 10 (8/10 for the badass spoon)
Pros: Nutritious. Shelf-stable. Badass brown spoon. Grandma’s buck cake recipe. Bordellos. A badass with poo on a stick. Death by spoon.
Cons: Rancid coffee-taste. Terrible tin can food smell. Crumbly texture. Long list of ingredients. A number of preservatives. Jack Bauer chewing gum. Plaque-y goodness of cholesterol. No badass spork.

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