Tag: Mountain Dew

Nothing makes me feel prouder to be an American than thinking about the colors that decorate our stars and stripes: purple, violet, and Crayola Purple Mountains’ Majesty.

The purple, of course, represents Grimace, an American hero who symbolizes our freedom to eat milkshakes with our 8 a.m. McMuffins if we darn well please. The violet honors Donatello, whose wise reptilian martial arts helped end the Civil War. And Purple Mountains’ Majesty commemorates the brave crayons who entertain our nation’s children while they doodle Donatello suplexing Grimace (or was that just me?).

This explains the color of Mountain Dew’s new patriotic Mtn Dew DEW.S.A too, becau—wait, what? You’re saying they just combined red, white, and blue Dew flavors to make this lilac-hued liquid? I guess that’s what I get for playing Pokémon instead of paying attention in U.S. History class:

I get stuck in Lavender Town.

Speaking of lavender, Mountain Dew certainly didn’t skip art class, because this aesthetically pleasing beverage evenly blends the colors of Code Red, White Out, and Voltage: the three respective flavors that form DEW.S.A.’s chromatic trilogy.

Since the colors are evenly represented, you’d expect all three Dew flavors to get equal treatment too, right? Left. Whoops, I meant wrong. Like a washed-out photo or my pasty face after a long winter, DEW.S.A. has poor white balance. Or at least poor orange balance. None of the citrusy bite of White Out or zesty zap of Voltage comes through, aside from a faintly tangy fruitiness in the end notes, which remind me of original, Cherry Citrus Game Fuel, which we first tasted when Halo 3 hit stores in 2007.

Makes sense: this stuff does look like an Energy Sword.

Cherry is a much fairer description for DEW.S.A.’s “body,” because the drink quite potently tastes of Swedish Fish. Or more specifically, Swedish Berries. Or even more specifically, the discount store-brand gummy raspberries my grandma would buy by the grocery bag-full and watch shamefully as I mushed a handful of them together into a single “mega berry.”

Okay, that may be too specific, but it’s accurate. Mtn DEW.S.A. blends Code Red’s candied cherry, Voltage’s tart raspberry, and a jelly-like pectin sweetness to craft a pleasant flavor that tragically ends too soon. Instead of bursting through the night like those anthemic bombs, the flavor of DEW.S.A. fades like a lone firework, cascading over your taste buds and disappearing as soon as the last drop high-fives your uvula.

This is probably due to the soda’s sucralose content, which is always such a hot topic that I feel the need to mention it. I’m not opposed to artificial sweeteners —- I’ve been eating junk food for ages, so the Grim Reaper’s already been watching me like an eBay auction since I first learned to hold an Oatmeal Cream Pie -— as long as they don’t disrupt the flavor. The sucralose in DEW.S.A. tastes neither fake nor chemically, so I give it a pass.

It just makes the whole drink feel lighter (think Raspberry Crystal Light), which I find preferable to original Dew’s custardy thickness during hot summer months, especially as the latter leaves my throat feeling like a syrupy slime slalom.

And that’s just what DEW.S.A. is to me: a nicely crisp Dew with a nice, two-berried taste gimmick that’ll be simple (despite containing 200 percent more flavors than the average Dew) and refreshing during nice, poolside picnics. Nice.

I do wish the flavor was a little more recognizably American, but until they release apple pie HoneyDEW or charbroiled BarbeDEW, DEW.S.A. will Dew just fine.

(Nutrition Facts – 20 oz. bottle – 170 calories, 0 grams of fat, 105 milligrams of sodium, 45 grams of carbohydrates, 45 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $1.79
Size: 20 fl oz. bottle
Purchased at: Meijer
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: An American drink that ironically tastes of Scandinavian cherry-raspberry candy. The crispest summer dew this side of a morning lawn. Beverage colors that won’t leave you Grimacing. Fatalistic Oatmeal Cream Pies.
Cons: Orange you upset there’s no citrus? Raspberries that didn’t choose the blue pill. Transient flavors with a wanderlust. Not calling it “The DEWcleration of InDEWpendence.” My White Out skin becoming Code Red an hour into tanning.

Kiwis and I had a pretty good relationship.

I’ve always wanted to visit New Zealand, kiwi birds are my favorite animals, and during elementary school lunchtime I would’ve happily traded a Ziploc full of half-crushed Oreo cookies (worth more in those days than gold dust) for a Strawberry Kiwi Capri-Sun.

But that relationship was tested when I was forced to watch a peer eat an entire kiwi fruit like an apple—a grueling sight that would make the Ludovico Technique feel like Sesame Street. I understand that many of you will probably defend this practice, but let me tell you, when I cracked open my can of green apple kiwi-flavored Mtn Dew Green Label, all I could hear was the haunting crunch of canine teeth piercing hairy kiwi skin.

I think I want my baggy of sandwich cookie smithereens back.

Despite these preexisting prejudices, I will give Green Label some credit: its premise is more interesting than Mtn Dew White Label, which was essentially a white grape sequel to Black Label that tasted more like a Phantom Menace-esque prequel. I had hopes that Green Label would close Dew’s first Label trilogy off right, mostly because the stuff is the same color as Luke’s lightsaber in Return of the Jedi.

Seriously, this stuff is green: greener than Kermit the Frog after too many Midori and Ecto-Cooler mixers. But even though it’s about 50 shades of Oz darker than original Mountain Dew, my first sip of Green Label just tasted like watered down Dew. It took a few swirls, swishes, and elevated pinky fingers before Green Label’s tarter green apple notes began to develop behind its syrupy lemon-lime base.

Despite its largely natural ingredients, this soda doesn’t taste much like a real green apple. I know: big surprise coming from a fine beverage brand that pairs with authentically cheese flavored hors d’oeuvres like Doritos. Green Label’s mild carbonation sort of mimics the refreshing crispness of a Granny Smith, but the drink’s leading fruit flavor is closer to an artificial green apple candy.

On a scale of “Green Apple Skittle” (that filthy, lime-killing Brutus) to “Green Apple Jolly Rancher,” Mtn Dew Green Label’s tasty tanginess is about a “Green Laffy Taffy.” Not too sweet, not too biting, this green apple flavor is pleasantly juicy, but still tragically underpowered compared to the core Dew taste.

Speaking of oppressed flavors in a puppet Dew-mocracy, Green Label’s faint kiwi taste only emerges near the tail end of every gulp. Its lightly floral, tropical melon twist reminds me of a Strawberry Kiwi Propel, and my secret conspiracy theory is that PepsiCo diluted Green Label with that very same electrolyte drink —- hence why it’s kind of watery.

But even if this Dew is nefariously spiked with the kiwi-flavored stuff plants crave, it’s still worth trying for the aftertaste alone. For a brief, magical moment at each sip’s end, Green Label’s apple and kiwi flavors merge to produce a delightfully sweet, trachea-crackling fruit cocktail that tastes like green Wonka Fun Dip.

Seriously, if I could bottle just that fleeting flavor, I’d have something more addictive than Soylent Green with a side of Green Eggs & Ham.

Overall, Mtn Dew Green Label’s advertised flavors may be too mild and washed out, but in those rare instances when both green apple and kiwi work, they work memorably enough that your taste buds will want to frame them right next to your uvula.

To use another Force-sensitive analogy: if White Label is the Jar Jar Binks to Black Label’s Qui Gon Jinn, then I think we found his soda Obi-Wan.

(Nutrition Facts – 16 ounces – 140 calories, 0 grams of fat, 80 milligrams of sodium, 35 grams of carbohydrates, 35 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein.)

Purchased Price: $1.79
Size: 16 fl oz. can
Purchased at: Meijer
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Straight-off-the-Lik-a-Stix aftertastes. The surprisingly palatable union of Laffy Taffy and power sports beverages. Enjoying the taste of plain Dew enough to like this stuff regardless. Having cheese platters on hand for emergencies. Using “trachea-crackling” as a compliment.
Cons: Authoritarian lemon-lime Dew-tatorships. Watered-down sugar water. Meek apple-kiwi wallflowers. The non-existence of fancy Limburger Doritos to pair this with. Et tu, Skittles?

Gather ‘round, kids: it’s time for a Choose Your Own Adventure story!

You are Mountain Dew Pitch Black, a heroic soda knight whose early 2000s Halloween conquests — and recent 2016 revival — made him the sugary stuff of legends and memories alike.

But although you’re a more mythic Mountain than Olympus, people aren’t as charmed by radioactively purple syrup as they used to be. So if you don’t want to join Heinz EZ Squeeze in Violet Valhalla, you’ll have to grow up.

Which path will you take at this pivotal crossroad?

If you choose the dark path, turn to a different review.

If you choose the light path, turn to the next page and prepare to see a threatening, all-caps THE END that’ll make you glad you kept your thumb on the previous page.

Why? Because while Mountain Dew’s recent Black Label was a deliciously classy Pitch Black who grew up to host dinner parties and own an art house theater, this new White Label tastes like an adult Pitch Black who bitterly yells at the local news with his mouthful of lukewarm Hungry Man dinners.

Enough doom, gloom, and microwaved rib eye for now: let’s start with the positives. Mountain Dew White Label does preserve much of the grape flavor that makes Pitch Black great, without the syrupy discomfort that Pitch Black’s many grams of sugary slugs slime onto the back of your throat. At only 35 grams of sugar and 140 calories per can, this comparatively light Dew won’t leave you shamefully feeling like you drank a Nickelodeon prop.

I say “much of the grape flavor,” because the fruitiness is lighter, too. The white grape juice concentrate lacks the sour, tangy punch of its red sibling, but it replaces it with an unparalleled crispness that’s nearly floral. It’s no chardonnay, but I can see this flavor appealing to a niche audience of Dew snobs.

Unfortunately, that’s the nicest thing I can say about Mtn Dew White Label. Because once the white grape flavor fades, an unwelcome orange backend takes its place. The can claims that White Label is “Dew with Crafted Tropical Citrus,” but the bitter, acrid tang of this orange finish just tastes like the juice of a wrinkly tangerine that was infused with expired SunnyD and the pity tears of a passing pineapple.

In short: this tropical shipwreck’s more LOST than Gilligan’s Island.

Mtn Dew White Label isn’t undrinkable, and it might work for those seeking a super smooth soda that won’t pummel their trachea with the aggressive jabs of a million bubbles, but Black Label just tastes superior in every way. White Label is pretty much Diet Black Label (it contains Sucralose, and you can tell), and since Black Label was already a less carbonated Pitch Black, this new Dew’s one degree of separation too far away to be worth it.

So please, young Pitch Black, if you’re reading this, disregard Master Kenobi and embrace the power of the Dark Side.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 can – 140 calories, 0 grams of fat, 70 milligrams of sodium, 36 grams of carbohydrates, 35 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein..)

Purchased Price: $1.69
Size: 16 oz. can
Purchased at: Meijer
Rating: 4 out of 10
Pros: White grape concentrate that’s crisper than Denny’s hash browns. Not feeling like my taste buds went on Double Dare. Liquid opacity that rivals Crystal Pepsi. Pairing this with Doritos for a low-budget wine & cheese night.
Cons: Diet Diet Pitch Black. Cantankerous citrus aftertastes. Pineapple pity parties. Suddenly: sucralose! Never getting to eat purple ketchup again. Throwing so much shade they could’ve called it “Grey Label.”

If you asked me to write down the flavors that remind me of October, I assure you that “mango” and “spicy heat” would both fall pretty low on that list, right there near the bottom with “overcooked pork chop,” “accidentally ingested Reese’s wrapper,” and “neighborhood bully knuckle sandwich.”

There’s really no logical reason for Mountain Dew’s new Mango Heat Game Fuel to debut after summer, unless the titular flavors are meant to symbolize global warming and all the unsold overstock from Trader Joe’s recent mango mania. I understand that Mango Heat doesn’t need to make sense, since it’s only meant to tie-in with the upcoming video game Titanfall 2, but as a meticulous Halloween fanatic, I want everything I consume this month to taste appropriately spooktacular.

It’s why every steak I eat in October oozes blood, every pizza is extra saucy, and every PB&J has enough J to create an impressive splash zone around me when I bite into it.

So Mountain Dew should’ve just tied this drink to the new Resident Evil zombie game and called it “Blood Orange Game Fuel.” Because as I quickly found out, that’s what it tastes like, too.

Amidst the wails of my Spooky Sounds cassette tape and the annoyed groans of my upstairs neighbors, the fine carbonated hiss of my Dew became a welcome part of the spooky symphony. But nothing about my first sip screamed “mango!” to me. Instead, it tasted like a carbonated Hi-C Ecto-Cooler.

More specifically, it tasted like Mountain Dew took a carbonated Ecto Cooler, added a splash of Sunny D, tossed in a dash of black pepper, and mixed it all together—by using a Mango Dum-Dum sucker as the swizzle stick. In layman’s tastes, this means Mango Heat’s predominate flavor is “sugary artificial orange,” with a mildly biting tang and an even milder tropical fruitiness.

While its lack of mango is already lame enough to make an ordinary man go nuts, this Dew’s peppery heat is the disappointing icing on an already sad birthday cake—the kind of cake that misspells my name as “Don.” The promised heat isn’t spicy or burning: it’s just kind of annoying. After every sip, a tingling, unflavored aftertaste tickled the back of my throat like one of those sneezes that teases but never comes.

I tried swishing the Mango Heat around in my mouth to test for deeper flavor complexities, but this merely spread the Dew’s unpleasant slimy corn syrupiness around my mouth and made my dentist shudder in his sleep without knowing why.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with this Dew’s angsty tangerine juice box flavor. Its “liquefied Velma Scooby-Doo fruit snacks” taste is perfectly pleasant when sipped in isolation. Yet I can’t but help compare Mango Heat to its similar-tasting Game Fuel brother: Citrus Cherry. Since Citrus Cherry is also back in stores, I wish Mountain Dew had been more experimental with this new Game Fuel flavor.

With a color as atomically orange as Mango Heat’s, Mountain Dew could’ve made a vanilla-tinged Orange Creamsicle Dew or a BuzzFeed-breaking Pumpkin Spice Dew. Heck, I would’ve even accepted a nationwide release of 2014’s legendary, nacho cheese-flavored “Dewritos” soda. It’s the most deviant time of year, yet Mountain Dew tried to play it a little too safe.

If you really like Hi-C’s Ecto-Cooler or Orange Lavaburst, Mtn Dew Mango Heat might still tickle your fancy as much as it does your trachea. The rest of us are better off using it as a glowing Halloween mood talisman.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 bottle – 170 calories, 0 grams of fat, 100 milligrams of sodium, 46 grams of carbohydrates, 46 grams of sugar, and 0 grams of protein..)

Purchased Price: $1.69
Size: 20 fl oz bottle
Purchased at: Kroger
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: A stinging high-five between an Orange Starburst and a pissed-off glass of Sunny D. A soda the color of melted jack-o-lanterns. Using carbonation for atmospheric effect. Ordering an “extra large, extra bloody” pizza from Papa John’s. Never having the chance to masochistically taste “Dewritos.”
Cons: Mango flavor that’s as faded as my summer memories. A heated aftertaste that’s as irritating as YouTube’s Annoying Orange. A palette-swapped Citrus Cherry doppelgänger. PB&J stains on my best white shirt. Unknowingly eating the brown wrapper on every Reese’s Cup until I was six (seriously).