Perrier – Carbonated Mineral Water

I feel like Perrier has been around forever—from back when mineral water got to be a big deal, but then became despised because it was associated with yuppies. This was, of course, before people developed the habit of paying money for toilet water in plastic bottles on a daily basis. I would have guessed it’s been around since the Seventies, but the bottle says: “A French Story Since 1863”—so I guess I was off by more than a century. That even pre-dates yuppies! Also, perhaps it’s not a mineral water at all, but a story! I guess I still associate Perrier with its rise in popularity, whenever that was, when I might have considered it a frivolous lifestyle choice. It’s probably time to get over opinions I formed when I was still spending Saturday nights bulls-eyeing womprats in my T-16. It’s kind of admirable they still have the same distinctive bottle shape, even if the shape is intensely off-putting, for some reason. Same label, same font, I think. I have no idea if this water is now in or out of fashion, or even who those fashions, if they do exit, entail. In the final estimation, though, it’s kind of remarkable this water comes all the way from France where it springs from the earth and is captured in designer containers. And remains relatively affordable. It’s also very good—it’s got a mineral flavor, but it’s subtle, and I find it delicious.

1.17.23

La Croix – Beach Plum

If you have the job at La Croix coming up with the names of flavored water, you must double up with some other duty—one would think—even with the ridiculous number of varieties available. Names like “Lemon” didn’t require much—but “Beach Plum” is clever, really, because you can’t imagine La Croix “Plum” sparkling water. Of course, it could be flavored after the Beach Plum—but that’s too regional and esoteric a fruit, isn’t it? Maybe not, because no one eats plums at the beach. Maybe it’s describing a “bathing beauty”—but isn’t that a peach? This confusion is why I find this name so clever. Unfortunately, it doesn’t really taste good—there’s something off about it. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t really taste like plums—or maybe it does, and that’s the problem. Anyway, it’s too floral to be appetizing and too normal to be interesting. (Some oddball out there surely loves it.) I don’t eat that many plums, actually—and maybe never a beach plum. I do eat a lot of prunes, which are dried plums, because they’re available year ’round at all the worst stores, and they’re pretty good. They also help you go… you know, number 2. Though, I couldn’t imagine them coming out with a La Croix Prune—maybe for that reason. “Beach” invokes good feelings with almost everyone, unless maybe you’re thinking Omaha Beach. “Plum,” even if you don’t like fresh fruit, also means very, very, very good. And then there’s Christmas pie—but I can never shed the image of that gross, little Little Jack Horner. A lot going on here—I’ve almost talked myself into thinking it’s really kind of good.

1.10.23

Ferrarelle – Sparking Natural Mineral Water

If I had to pick one water right now to be my regular, why not this one. It tastes delicious—it’s an Italian mineral water, and it’s subtle and fresh, and the natural carbonation is nice. My weakness is that I want to keep trying new things. And also, I’m attracted to the extremes—even though a more pronounced mineral flavor—that turns you on—might turn on you, eventually. There’s a distributor website that describes the origins of the water, near Naples, and the specifics of the mineral origins, and a murky photograph that could be anywhere. There’s also a funny paragraph about the convoluted, contested, origins of the name, and an oddly specific list of food that the water best accompanies—who comes up with this stuff!? The bottle is 750ml green glass with an old-fashioned looking red label with silver and white print. Also, a red, screw-on cap. The bottle is as attractive as any I’ve seen—and the water matches in deliciousness. I think I’ve found my regular water, I really have. I’d say I can end this experiment right now, except I know that there are still a lot out there to try. I may not remain faithful, but at some point I may see if the Ferrarelle will have me back.

1.3.23

Topo-Chico – Twist of Lime

It makes perfect sense to flavor a mineral water with lime—probably more sense than any other flavor—after all, lime goes with everything—cocktails, beer, tacos, soup, salads, dessert, the desert, ocean crossings on slow sailing ships—pretty much everything but open cuts and sex organs. Though, I’m sure there are people who are into that, too. But I’m the guy who cares nothing for cocktails—I figure if you’re going to drink liquor, it only makes sense to drink stuff that’s good enough that mixing it with anything is a compromise. And it doesn’t have to be that good for that to be the case. But I’m also a guy who used to drink Mad Dog and is writing a column about flavored water, so don’t listen to me. What I’m saying, I guess, is, if when you call this lime-flavored water “twist o’ lime,” you wonder if you might be better off with the unflavored water and some fresh lime. On the other hand, this water is really good. It comes in a green bottle with a label that looks like it’s from the 50s or 60s—but it’s from Mexico. It seems like less than 12 ounces—but that’s because I sucked it down faster than I can type.

12.27.22

La Croix – LimonCello

Apparently (well, they have the same name) modeled after Limoncello, the Italian lemon liqueur and digestif—which I’ve never tried, so I can’t really compare them, even in my mind. There are many different brands of limoncello liqueur—it’s probably good sport arguing which is best—and some people make it at home. If I still drank, I might be making some right now. From what I’ve read, the flavor comes from lemon zest, so it’s got that intense, oily, lemon peel quality—I bet it’s something I’d have been into. Well, missed that boat this time around. It seems like quite a challenge to attempt to achieve that essence in a sparkling water. I have no idea if they came close—but whether or not, this water has something unique and weird about it—at least, I think. The odd thing is, it will get you one time—and leave you out in the cold the next. It might inspire your imagination one day, and the next, leave you feeling like a fool. At first, this one put me off, some, because of the heavy flavor of what I perceive to be vanilla—and like I always say, vanilla can be dangerous. I don’t know if that’s what it is here—but I still get that, with the lemon. But… the water has grown on me… to the point that I consistently love it. I guess it brings to mind eating some kind of delicate, fragrant pastry in a little Italian bakery… which gives you a fleeting glimpse of the old world, or times past.

12.15.22

Polar – Ginger Lime Mule

This is without hesitation my favorite flavored sparkling water I’ve yet tried. I don’t really notice the lime, which is good (subtle), but the ginger is as strong as I want it to be—so strong, even, it gives the illusion of sweetness—I had to doublecheck to make sure there was no sugar. It really is the perfect soft drink—I can quit trying them all now, and just head for the bar. Of course—who knows if I’ll be able to find this again, and—of course I still want to keep trying stuff. I assume the name is based on the Moscow Mule, which is a particularly dumb cocktail. I love the mules that are animals, but mule as a cocktail, a shoe, or a person—no. Ginger beer/ginger ale is yet another can of worms. In recent decades, there’s been some fancy-pants ginger beer available, which is gingery enough, but, without exception, WAY TOO SWEET. Most other ginger ale, though, just plain sucks—the exception being Vernors, which was aged and had a sublime, unusual flavor—my favorite soft drink, growing up. The company’s been sold (many times), and the flavor is no doubt not the same—well, I haven’t tried it in years. At any rate, now, THIS—even if it’s not called “ginger ale”—it is the best ginger ale—and now, my ginger ale of choice—despite the dumb name.

12.7.22

Topo-Chico – Mineral Water

I’m drinking a bottle of Topo-Chico that I bought at the Cermak grocery store—my favorite grocery store in the area—but unfortunately not close enough to do all my shopping. They specialize in, as they say, “a variety of ethnic foods”—it’s a giant store totally packed with stuff I’ve never seen. Sometimes you see items with other than the English language version of the packaging. This 350ml bottle has no English whatsoever—not that you need it (Agua Mineral Natural Carbonatada). I’m going to absolutely take it on faith that the Topo-Chico water that comes in the English language label and the Spanish language label is the same water—until someone tells me different. This is a delicious, slightly mineral-tasting soft bubble water from Mexico. It’s quite good. Also, I love the slim glass bottle and old-fashioned looking yellow label—it almost looks like it’s from another (earlier) time, entirely. I could never settle on one water, of course, but I should make a point of always having some of this around (it’s always easy to find) in the event that I ever have guests over—even though I never have guests over. Maybe if we start doing podcasts again. Maybe water would be a good podcast subject. I’m thinking out loud.

11.28.22

The Mountain Valley – Sparkling Water

A sparkling water from the Ouachita Mountains in Arkansas—which looks like a really beautiful area of the country. I’ve never been there, but if I take up fishing later in life, I might check it out. I think it’s an area with a lot of natural springs, and this is a mineral water—but it doesn’t really have the heavy mineral taste—if there is any mineral flavor, it’s nearly imperceptible, at least to me. The specs—calcium, magnesium, potassium—are on the bottle, but the numbers mean very little to me. This is spring water with carbonation added. It comes in a big, green, 1 liter, glass bottle with a screw-top—the bottle and logo look pretty old-fashioned, really, which I like. There are a lot of adjectives—some raised out of the glass, and some on the label: “Authentic, Pure, Fine, America’s Premium Water, Since 1871”. 1871?! That’s impressive. It’s a very clean and refreshing water—if that’s your kind of thing. I’d drink this anytime—holidays, watching sports, fishing, road trips, weddings, happy hour, while writing a review of The Mountain Valley Sparkling Water, even.

11.24.22

La Croix – Coconut

When it comes to coconuts, there are very few fruits I like better—but then everyone loves coconuts. They are kind of miraculous, though. Also, there are as many different coconuts as there are… well… coconuts. That’s an exaggeration. Anyway, there is one kind of coconut fragrance that’s actually pleasing to me… but not remotely appetizing. I’m talking about the coconut fragrance that’s in some products such as suntan lotion, shampoo, soap, and candles. Really not meant to be eaten. You’ll notice that coconut in food doesn’t even resemble the coconut in those non-edible products. Very seldom would you have a crossover of the edible coconut and the non-edible fragrance. In fact, I can’t think of any instances of it. Until now. This water has employed the non-edible coconut fragrance with a sparking, otherwise characterless, water. The result is a kind of gross, not very appetizing water. I can drink it, sure, and it does remind me of a day on the beach, but it’s certainly not one I’d make habit of drinking regularly. Kind of gross. It does make me think they could put some really interesting, generally not remotely food-related fragrances with sparkling water—which might be intriguing—if they really want to go for it. Though… could be gross.

11.20.22

Liquid Death – Sparkling Water

If the character you want in a sparkling water is minimal, refreshing… funny… I guess you have to go all-in with the packaging. This company does a good job—just the name, of course, and the goth font, the can presentation, and art. Back in the early Eighties, when my friends and I played in bands and published zines, at one point we poked fun of bands and zines who featured gothic art with rotting skulls. My friend Keith was especially relentless, as he could be, about the “rotting, dripping skulls”—and this became a kind of shorthand. The melting skull drawing on this can is exactly the style of rotting, dripping skull I remember from back then—so that made me laugh. Then, their logo, “Straight from The Alps”—I was thinking was a reference to “Find a stranger in the Alps”—but seeing how it claims to actually be from Austria, maybe it isn’t—so I’ll leave that particular can of worms sealed. Though I’m not entirely sure. Anyway, this is the sparkling version of their water, in the black can with the melting gold skull—it looks pretty great. The water is fine. Their “mission” is to promote use of a more recyclable aluminum container—over plastic—so I’m all for that—and not taking anything too seriously, as well. Their website is fun and lively—but whenever I see all that video, I work up a thirst running the other way. I think the kids will like it.

11.12.22

Mineragua – Sparkling Water

From the Jarritos company in Mexico who make the most delicious soft drinks—which I can’t drink because of the sugar, any more than I can drink tequila—I’d probably be better off with tequila—but that might just be the tequila talking. Anyway, I was excited to see this one. It comes in 12.5-ounce bottles, and the ingredients say: carbonated water, sodium bicarbonate, salt, potassium chloride—which sounds a little chem-lab—and it does taste a little like water with baking soda. But it’s a refreshing water, and the bottle is quite attractive, with a blue logo and an eight-point star, or asterisk, and 3 two-tone pitchers on the label. I could probably just drink this all day, every day, and forget the rest of this nonsense—that is if nonsense wasn’t my middle name. Also, I noticed on the big bulletin board that they might have a “club soda” version? I’m not sure, but I believe I saw that on top of a magazine’s tasting poll from about 2016—so that warrants investigation. Is their “sparkling water” and “club soda” similar, the same, or identical? Or… imaginary? I guess I’m not giving up yet.

11.6.22

Jelly Belly – French Vanilla

The second version of the Jelly Belly sparkling water I’ve tried—it’s in a white can with gold trim and logo and an image of a vanilla bean and flower—so it promises an elegant (inasmuch as you can think elegant and jellybean at the same time) and lushly rich sparkling water experience. It’s immediately off-putting. Not my favorite vanilla flavor, this one. Not totally gross—but kind of. It occurs to me—maybe it’s the “French” in the French Vanilla—what does that even mean? I consult the big brain. In ice cream, it’s a richer version, with egg yolk doing the job—so it’s essentially a vanilla custard—and some contains hazelnut, caramel, and butterscotch—so more flavor, richer, disgusting. I’ve often assumed that a certain vanilla fragrance that nauseates me is a cheap, artificial vanilla, like in candles and air fresheners. But I wonder if that vanilla is replicating French Vanilla—maybe that is what I smell, taste—sometimes—and am grossed out by. Well, either way, I hate to say it, but… this tastes like that.

10.28.22

La Croix – Guava São Paulo

As in guava, the attractive tropical fruit, and São Paulo, the city in Brazil, I guess. There is a crude depiction of a guava fruit, cut in half, on the can—it looks like guava, kind of. I could imagine a kind of ongoing party game with this can, where everyone writes what the drawing looks like to them (the usuals are: guava, alien brain, bota bag, anatomical drawing, fish head, and so forth) on a slip of paper, with their name, and they are all put in a hat. Then they are revealed, and the people with like answers hook up! Interesting, the name has a little ™ (trademark) symbol after it, indicating La Croix had it trademarked? I’m assuming you can’t trademark a fruit or a city, but the combination… yes? How much does that cost? And why? So no one can call their band: Guava São Paulo? As if! I’m trying to remember—the form I’ve sometimes eaten guava in is guava paste. It comes in a can and is too sweet, but you couple it with that salty Mexican cheese, and it’s perfect. Not that I’d try to TRADEMARK that idea, or anything. This is a pretty nice fruity water—it’s growing on me, I admit. I wonder if there are other flavors in it, along with the guava? What is the taste of São Paulo? Yes, I know, guava—but what else? I don’t suppose La Croix would tell us, since they’ve got the whole deal locked in a safe somewhere.

10.26.22

Fever-Tree – Premium Club Soda

A super clean club soda with no character (well, super clean, I suppose, is character) and pleasant carbonation—perfect for mixing cocktails, I guess. I’m assuming, to some degree, that’s the idea, with “club soda.” When I used to drink, I often enjoyed a gin and soda cocktail, and this would be perfect with a fine gin. Or even a non-rotgut one. Of course, were I to be drinking bourbon or scotch, I would drink those without mixing them (not even with ice). Fever-Tree has an attractive website that tells me very little. Elsewhere, I read that it’s an English company, originally making tonic water. This fancy 500ml bottle comes from New York (it says), with a “fever tree” logo, bumpy design in the glass, and a metallic pale violet label. Really nice label. It’s got a screw-top, which isn’t elegant, but it’s practical. I could see bringing this bottle to a party, for personal use, and I’d imagine that anyone who’d never seen it would think I’m drinking something exotic and expensive—and they’d be close to correct. Actually, I don’t remember what it cost—I think it was not cheap for bubbly water—but I treat myself to the good life occasionally.

10.23.22

Jelly Belly – Orange Sherbet

I saw some cans of this Jelly Belly Sparkling Water—I presume named after the jellybean brand—while visiting Sandusky, Ohio—I’m not sure how widely available it is, at this point. I first tried this flavor—assuming it would be more than merely orange, right? And indeed, it has an interesting and complex flavor—maybe a little vanilla-ish, and creamy (assuming “creamy” is a flavor)—that reminded me of a Creamsicle. I mean, Creamsicle Bar—the ice cream treat that combines orange “popsicle” and vanilla ice cream—not the Creamsicle Cocktail—which may be what comes up first in the minds of people these days—due to a gross and disgusting sweet cocktail trend. I mean, people order the Creamsicle Cocktail at a bar—and it’s not cheap—but they would never pour MD 20/20 Orange Jubilee over vanilla ice cream—but it’s basically the same thing. I mean, I would, if I still drank orange juice, alcohol, milk, sugar, and had a death wish. Anyway, this water tastes a lot like the Creamsicle frozen treat—and that one is a classic—so… pretty good! Perhaps it’s a bit more orange-y than that, but it’s not tangy at all, and it definitely has got some vanilla—which is an integral ingredient in orange sherbet, after all.

10.19.22

Waterloo – Summer Berry

I believe this is a seasonal flavor (summer), because the can has stars on it, and some subtle fireworks, as well as the berries—and since yesterday was the last day of summer—now is the time. The cold front moved in today. I always thought it was a little weird when people talked about “berries” without specifying, since berries are about as different as apples and oranges. Or even as different as apples and chicken chow mein. This thought, then, got me wondering if the person(s) who invented “Mixed Fruit” jelly might have thought it was a home run, and not the crap that you’d put in the little single serving tubs that is the last jelly around after the strawberry, raspberry, honey, apple butter, orange marmalade, and even grape tubs are gone. The other thing it reminds me of is my friend, Barry Fruitage. No it doesn’t. At any rate, the berries on the can are raspberry, blackberry, and blueberry—nice renditions, too. The flavor is so intense I thought there was sugar in it, at first. But no… it’s just flavor. But they weren’t messing around… it’s intense. And it does taste like summer. I’ll buy some again next year.

10.6.22

La Croix – Hi-Biscus!

This is an attractive metallic pink can with yellow (hibiscus) flower designs—and the name is stylized, spelling hibiscus as: “Hi” (as in hello), and “biscus” (which means nothing, but sounds like “viscus,” which seems gross in a sparkling water context)—and then a well-deserved exclamation point. The flavor is hibiscus, of course, which I’m most familiar with via the “Red Zinger” tea, which used to be everywhere, popular because it’s red, tart, and healthy. It just occurred to me I haven’t seen it lately—it’s not off the market, is it? Maybe it’s something I’ve just neglected to buy in a while—that happens. I’ll look for it next time at the store. The other version I’ve consumed—eaten—was a candied hibiscus flower—I got a small bag of them somewhere—pretty exotic. At first, I thought they were exciting and good, but as time went on it seemed like the bag grew more full rather than empty, until I finally realized the things repulsed me, and I did something I almost never do—threw them away before being finished. Maybe that sad memory is what this water reminds me of, now—though for some reason I feel like it reminds me of some other flavored water that I don’t like—but I can’t nail it down. Either way, I don’t particularly care for it.

10.2.22

AHA – Blueberry + Pomegranate

I liked the 16-ounce can, two-tone—the blue part with pomegranate seeds, and the red part with blueberries. It doesn’t taste particularly like either, to me, more like “mixed fruit”—but pleasant. I don’t really go in for the mixing of two flavors—isn’t that what we’re supposed to do, at home? It’s like—we can’t just sell you a blueberry water, that would be too weird. Of course, I’ve eaten pomegranates and have no idea, really, what they taste like—but they’re sure fascinatin’. So, this one is a Coca-Cola product—I guess everyone has to get in on the sparkling water with no sweetener or artificial color or flavor trend. Well, at least this is a trend that benefits us all—you might even be able to find sparkling water at a truckstop outside of Bumfuck, ’Merica. I think they might have some caffeinated versions—after all, Coke made a fortune addicting the unsuspecting masses on cocaine, caffeine, sugar, and whatever that heinous ingredient in Diet Coke is that causes the addicts to flip out when denied it. It will be interesting to see if their diabolical chemists can fit something irresistible under: “carbonated water, natural flavors.” Maybe the right combination of flavors—like chocolate and peanut butter, Sunday and football, heartbreak and beer—will be the million-dollar ticket.

9.21.22

Bubly – Strawberry

I find this one a bit annoying because their marketing is annoying, and I’m not crazy about misspelling a word (bubbly) to name your product. Maybe I’m just biased because it says PepsiCo on the can (“under the authority of”) and that’s a company that owns a million products, and most of them are garbage. This, however, is another simple flavored water so, no sugar, no artificial poison sweetener, etc.—and it does have a really nice strawberry flavor. It tastes like strawberry—and I have a bit of a fondness for strawberry because I have tried to write a story called “Strawberry Ice Cream Soda” for years now—kind of based on a story I read as a kid. I have failed to write that story—but that doesn’t stop me from being obsessed with the idea, and by association, everything strawberry. Even strawberries. It’s not my favorite fruit, but it’s okay. It’s not my favorite ice cream (it’s way down on the list!), and if I was going to get something at a soda fountain, it probably wouldn’t be a strawberry ice cream soda. If I was going to buy a soft drink, it wouldn’t be strawberry soda pop. It’s a great word though, a great name for a person (rather rare), and a great place name (I only know of one, in fiction, offhand). And it’s a unique flavor—and this sparkling water pretty much nails it.

9.14.22

Waterloo – Pineapple

The only thing I like better than pineapple is nothing. The fruit, the image, the symbol—pineapple is weird and complex and fun. To be honest, there are a few things I like better: books, pumpkins, and cats. But that’s about it. The problem is, since I quit eating sugar, most sweet things taste ten times as sweet—too sweet, and no longer edible. So, I can’t really eat pineapple, or drink pineapple juice. The piña colada was once my favorite cocktail—back when I ate sugar (and, of course, drank rum). But that’s a seriously sweet cocktail, especially if you use cream of coconut, which is really sweet. The only part of that cocktail that’s not sweet is the ice—and if you 151 proof rum, that cuts it down a little. So, anyway, this Waterloo Pineapple Sparkling Water tastes exactly like pineapple—no complaints there. It’s a good one. Then it occurred to me how good this would be with rum—like a really dry white rum of impeccable quality. Or, how about this. Mix part this water, part coconut flavored sparking water (I know it’s out there), and rum—and now you have a not-too-sweet piña colada! Then it occurred to me—I’d better watch out—this sparking water business could very well be a slippery slope.

9.6.22