Despite my best intentions to write this piece over Labor Day weekend, summer ended and autumn arrived, and circumstances abysmally failed to provide me with either the opportunity or the inclination to put it all together. We turned back the clocks , and sailed the river of time past the chronological twin pillars of Halloween and Election Day; then the merciless, inescapable current plunged us, ready or not, into the Holiday season….which of course then diligently sucked up all available free time faster than a new Sham-wow soaking up accidents at puppy training class. Eventually the holiday vortex spewed us out into the lazy eddies of January Sunday afternoons, and so, caught in the throes of a rare moment of ENTIRELY FREE TIME, as the sunset burns orange through the bare tree branches and the woodstove answers with a like-minded glow, I find myself thinking of SUMMER. Again. (Incidentally I’m considering entering this paragraph in some Bulwar-Litton competition, in the Most Bloated Opening for an Essay Category…Hmmmm. I could delete it entirely but I think I’ll leave it exactly because it’s so ridiculous.)
Some months ago, when the weather was heating up, I experienced a hankering for a good ol’ cream soda and shortly thereafter, during a weekly trip to the supermarket, I grabbed a bottle labeled Jones’ Cream Soda. What started it all , in fact, was that I liked Jones Cola labels, and the cream soda suddenly sounded good. If you have seen Jones’ Colas, you will know what I mean: those black-and-white “candid” photos of things like cows in a pasture sniffing a camera lens, dogs in cardboard boxes, kids playing – “feel-good” photos. So. The taste was interesting but – to borrow a phrase from the late great author Douglas Adams, “almost but not entirely unlike” cream soda. And then, in a flash of inspiration, the enquiring mind wanted to know: just what IS “Cream Soda” – the teeth-curling sweet “redpop” of my childhood, the pale brown carbonated beverage my upstate New York friends claimed to be the real deal, this strangely labeled liquid I was tasting at the moment, an eclectic drink on a gourmet market shelf, or a battered bottle from the cooler of some out of the way diner, whose owners last took inventory around 1954?
My first impression of Jones’ Cream Soda, as I typed hastily onto a Facebook status line, was “like liquid cotton candy.” I swear. It made me remember a day at the Great American Ballpark a few years ago when I foolishly decided I wanted a taste of my childhood and ordered a big pink cloud of cotton candy. Ten minutes later I was acting like a kid, too: “Hey, let’s run up the steps to the topllevelandwhenwegetherelet’slookoverattheconstructionandoohlookattheriverdoesitlookanydifferentoverhereandheyyoucangeticecreamuponthislevelllllllllllllllllllllllllll…………………….” and on in that vein for the better part of an hour until the sugar high wore off and I slumped back exhausted in my seat, munching on salty peanuts in an attempt to incapacitate the rush and beat it to death. So…Jones Cream Soda, while interesting - and almost as exciting - as real cotton candy, and definitely displaying one of the cooler labels, did not finish first on my list by a long shot.
I next tried Stewart’s Cream Soda, also available at the local supermarket. The embryo of a systematic method for comparison was developing , because I wrote on Facebook: “color: light amber. Taste: Sweet, with a little sparkle and a little spark. A bit more sophisticated than Jones' Cream Soda….” (I was obviously well on my way to becoming quite the cream soda sommelier. ) As it rolled and fizzed across my palate I discovered that this soda was closest to the one my upstate NY friends had introduced me to thirty years ago, and it evoked a memory of walking across a dry grassy field with friends at a tiny village’s “Fireman’s Club Field Days;” playing that delicious mental game in which you wonder if one of these people you’re with is going to make some gesture indicating that he wants to be more than just a friend, and what is it going to be, and what are you going to DO about it, and yet not really sweating it because you are happy in the moment (for the pruriently curious among you, he did, I did, we did. Hey, I was young and it was summer!).
******brief interlude while I think about summers long past******
Ahem, yes. Well. Where was I? Oh yes. Following Stewarts : Faygo Cream Soda. It was time for another installment in the “In Search Of” commentary, so on the fly and looking for anything to write about, I nabbed a couple of bottles at the IGA in Germantown. Obviously I was really working on the methodology by this time because I wrote “Color: Clear. Calories/serving: 110 (the lowest of the three so far). Taste: crisp but a bit too sweet and faintly chemically. Will try it again when it's a bit colder.” (I’m not sure if I meant the soda or the weather, but it wasn’t enough to motivate a second try.) However, although the whole it wasn’t too bad, I found its clear colorlessness disconcerting. Some “oopmf” was missing. Hmmm. Bland. Gelded cream soda, that’s what it seemed like.
Next on the list : IBC Cream Soda. I wrote: “ Wow! Color: Deep gold. Flavor - seriously but not overpoweringly vanilla- light! Tingly but without eliciting that choking, bubbles-up-the-nose sensation. 180 calories/serving.... HF Corn Syrup is the sweetener.” The comparison system was essentially in place at this point, because not only was I scrutinizing the appearance and describing the taste – I was also evaluating the contents. And noting in particular, this cream soda is some pretty high calorie stuff. In retrospect, I should have consulted a professional sommelier’s notes first – then I’d have been able to address other elusive issues such as “nose” and “body” – but hey, what did I know? I started out just interested in slamming back a cold cream soda. Little did I suspect that this whole tasting episode would evolve.
At this point some friends were getting in on the game; a friend/former employee brought me the next entry: Wegmans, from upstate New York: - a "grocery store brand" that was quite surprising! - calories 110; color, dark gold. Not as tingly as some of the others, and I expected it to be like Faygo ("why shouldn't this be red") - instead, it was like "Jones CS" lite! Very nice!
(One of my horseback riding buddies also brought me some “maple seltzer” from New England which, while interesting, didn’t quite fit the criteria for cream soda. Pretty good though, and certainly rather unique.)
In mid-July we made our annual pilgrimage to Cape May New Jersey, where I found sample number 6: Olde Philadelphia Rittenhouse Square Cream Soda - Light gold, 190 cal/serving, "high f. corn syrup and/or cane sugar". Pleasant, not too sweet but not much sparkle either. Pretty smooooooth, overall not bad. And yes, made in Philadelphia. BUT…how do you have syrup “and/or” cane sugar? This from the city that was definitive enough to produce a Declaration of Independence – so NOW you can’t make up your mind? “Corn syrup and/OR cane sugar?” Huh??
Taste tested next: Sprecher Fire Brewed Cream Soda. Calories 125. HF Corn syrup. Light amber, made with HONEY and vanilla, has a creamy head on it like old fashioned A & W Root Beer. A tad less sparkly than IBC, not as sweet as Jones - unique, different, and very nice. This one was made in Wisconsin and purchased and Dorothy Lane Market, as was :
#8: Frostie BLUE Cream Soda. Calories 190. HF Corn Syrup. Clear Blue. (Ingredients include "artificial flavor" - DUH - and "Blue 1.") It was sweet, bubbly...and well, pretty. No distinctive taste. Definitely at the bottom of the list. But hey...it was blue – thanks to “Blue 1.” Was this an old Star Trek prop, or perhaps the official refreshment endorsed by Smurfs? Or worse yet, was it liquefied Smurf? (Perhaps that was what the label meant by “artificial sweetener.”)
#9 - A & W. Calories 190. HF Corn Syrup. Light Golden. This was a nice surprise - light and sparkly, nice taste but not too overpowering. My favorite of the "big" commercial entries.
Almost last tasted..and least liked - #10, Faygo Redpop. 120 Calories, HF Corn Syrup and yeah, it's RED. Memories jogged by this confection did not even vaguely resemble those elicited by Stewarts - unfortunately! - but it did send me time traveling again; I flashed back to moments in my childhood when I was being chased out of my sickbed by a well-meaning parent trying to con me into swallowing some vile cough syrup that was passed off as “cherry flavored.” Bleah.
And #11, the final one: BIG RED! Calories 100 - in a 8 oz can! HF Corn syrup. Color: RED! Taste - liquid Bubble Yum. The thing is, I LIKE Bubble Yum. It’s my go-to vice when I’m stressed out and want to…well, grind away on SOMETHING, if not some body. Even now. Fifty three years old and on occasion I may still be seen blasting down the road in my grey truck blowing BIG bubbles. As an aside, I do NOT advocate blowing bubbles while on horseback; some of them take exception to the snapping sound (guess how I know this). So while Big Red is, shall I say, blatently jazzy and perhaps suggestive of, if it were possible, chewing on a vintage Saturday Morning cartoon, I have to admit I liked it.
Summing things up in an embarrassingly untimely attempt to finally fling this exposition to the winds of cyberspace….where do they all stand, these bottles of liquid recollection?
Well, I’ll tell you. It wasn’t as easy as it first seemed, summing them all up. And no doubt there are more out there waiting to be sampled, so in all likelihood there will be a continuance THIS year, particularly if my travels or those of friends yield some formerly undiscovered possibilities. Watch Facebook with baited breath for updates. In the meantime, here’s my list.
In 11th place, Faygo Redpop, if only because the only medicine I was fooled into believing was “tasty “ as a child - labels notwithstanding - was Cheracol cough syrup, and Faygo decidedly lacked the richness (and maybe the mental side effects!) of THAT concoction. Unfortunately.
In 10th place, Frostie Blue Cream soda. Blue. It just ain’t right.
In 9th place Faygo Cream Soda. Clear, colorless cream soda ain’t right either.
8th place: Jones’ Cream Soda. Just too sweet. If I want a cotton candy rush, I’ll order cotton candy. Besides, if you’re drinking liquid cotton candy, you deprive yourself of the true sport inherent in eating the real thing, which is avoiding either wearing it yourself or getting it in the hair or on the person of the unsuspecting ball park fan sitting in front of you. (Then again, maybe not.)
7th place: Wegman’s. A little more spark would have placed this one higher up on the list.
6th place: Rittenhouse. I have to admit I like the idea of drinking cream soda made in such a historic place, but you’d think that having been formulated in that hotbed of revolution it would have had a little more definitive taste.
5th place: A & W – just not too shabby for a “commercial” blend.
4th Big Red. Because, admit it, sometimes you WANT a little jazz!
3rd Sprecher Fire-Brewed – just an interesting and intriguing mixture, what with that honey and all. Worth the trip to DLM to find. And you can treat yourself to some pastry or “farmhouse bread” while you’re there. And the honeycrisp apples…oh, and the cheese counter..and…uh…well, plan to take all afternoon, anyway…….
And last – I have to say it’s a tie for first and second place, between IBC and Stewart’s. They are both oh, so close to that elusive Upstate New York blend that I enjoyed. The brand, I believe, was Adirondak Cream Soda and I have yet to find it locally, so if you run across some, pick up a can for me. My friends supplied me with “the real deal” by the caseload through vet school, so I have to admit some good memories of THAT time in my life resurfaced when sampling any of the gold or “brown” cream sodas. Studying histology and falling asleep, waking up to find a big highlighter splot on my notes where I dozed off holding the marker; trying to get everything done before 8 p.m. on a Thursday night to watch the iconic, never-yet-beaten lineup of TV shows: Cosby Show, Family Ties, Cheers, Night Court and St. Elsewhere. Giggling about “sniglets” (words that ought to be in the dictionary but aren’t) with friends when I should have been looking at Pathophysiology of Disease slides (Singlet example: Blibula – BLIB-yoo-la: the place on a dog which, when scratched, makes him rhythmically flap his hind leg). The weight-lifted –off-your-shoulders feel of finishing finals and heading home to Middletown late on a December afternoon.
I really didn’t anticipate a walk down memory lane when I started this taste test research back last June – but it has been an interesting little jaunt and it makes me wonder where it’ll take me THIS year. I’ll get back to you in June.
