Waterloo – Tropical Fruit

I bought the last can at Whole Foods as they were de-stocking it—or maybe it’s discontinued, or out of season—I don’t know. This is a delicious water! I’ve got to say! Very fruity, and very… tropical. A pleasure any time of year, not just summer. I really don’t get why people want to enforce seasonal tastes—the seasons do enough enforcing on their own (and there are certainly things, like some produce, that are truly seasonal). But what I don’t get is when people close up shop (metaphorically) and hibernate in the colder months. I think some people just LIKE to be depressed—but I don’t understand WHY. Anyway, what is the flavor here? Blindfolded, I would guess—tropical fruit! On the can there’s a picture of a grapefruit and pineapple and something else, which looks kind of like durian. Could that be? Their website says blood orange (so that’s not a grapefruit), and pineapple, and mango. Oh, okay, it’s mango. Very good, the combo of those three. But now I’m thinking that durian sparkling water would be a home run (or at least a hole-in-one)—if anyone wants to take the chance. Wait… maybe there is one? Only a quick search, and I see a durian soda, but it’s got high fructose corn syrup in it—so gross. Come on! Get with it, durian sparkling water pioneers!

11.21.23

Hoplark – Sparkling HopTea – The Calm One – made with Chamomile

This is a combo that makes a lot of sense as a tincture—most likely I’ve had tea hops and chamomile—intended for relaxation. Though… the last time I quaffed a cold, refreshing version of hops, chamomile, and carbonation—it was natural carbonation—brought about by fermentation. Yes… I’m talking about beer (even more relaxing) ha!  That would have been 1988 or so—we had regular beer production in the house I lived in (5-gallon crocks at a time). I had personally been making beer for a dozen years by then, off and on. (Ideas for titles for my memoir: “Under (Bever)age” or “Leave It To Beverage.”) I was into experimentation by that point (high alcohol, super stout, garlic, chamomile), and the chamomile beer was one of the more refreshing. It was called Chuck Berry Lager (the names didn’t always make the most sense). Might I have followed these pioneering ways to abdicating the throne of big beverage? (Something like that.) Probably not. Ever since God’s been replaced by Google, the voice speaking to Man tells him he’s necessarily late to the game—never first, and certainly not best—kind of sad—but at least those “divine” voices are quieted. It never ends well for true pioneers, anyway—madmen down the hall in hoarder hotels, or dead in the bottom of mineshafts. Oh, what’s it taste like? It is really good. I might not like it as much as some the other Hoplarks, but still, it’s right up there. I guess I like the bitterness and fragrance of hops! I guess there’s a good reason they put it in beer!

11.9.23

AHA – Blackberry + Lemon

Just saw, AHA in the news—Coca-Cola, who makes it, is cutting back. They must have found that it doesn’t fuel the space aliens, like Diet Coke—and 4 out of 5 dentist$ want you to drink regular Coke. Anyway, this one—another good flavor—very fruity, definitely blackberry. I really like this flavor—though something tells me it’s artificial as hell—I think because it reminds me the most of Kool-Aid as any sparkling water I’ve yet had. Not that Kool-Aid had a blackberry (back in my day), but still, there’s a subtlety to the flavor that recalls that nostalgic Kool-Aid fruity flavor. The can is purple and yellow, but it doesn’t look like the LSU football uniform (or any other sports team I can think of). It’s one of the more fucked up looking cans, actually—the three cartoon blackberries floating in a yellow background look more like the artist representation of coronavirus, or cartoon meteoroids in space—a meteoroid field we have to navigate the spaceship through to get to our supply of Diet Coke.

10.23.23

Alani – Orange

I do like the tall, thin 12-ounce cans. It just struck me, picking this one up—imagine a world where we haven’t yet had this sparking water/flavored seltzer/etc. craze—and you’d find this oddball, skinny tall can, metallic orange with green leaves—and it’s—no sugar! No sweetener! Just water, bubbles, and flavor? How weird would that be? I’d be taking this along to all my many many many many social appearances, that’s for sure. Unfortunately, there’s something a little off about the flavor. But wait… let’s see if it grows on me. You know, sometimes that happens. Sometimes what is gross at first later becomes the best thing ever. But not always, and in this case… no.

10.19.23

Hoplark Sparkling Water – with Sabro Hops

My first impression was… “not very hoppy,” but as I drink more, it’s as if the hop flavor is coming alive, weirdly, and it’s more and more hoppy as I go along. This one is made with Sabro hops. I keep seeing the word “Sabro” everywhere, it seems like, or maybe I’m just imagining it. I’ll look on the internet, maybe it’s a famous person. Was it “someone Sabro” or “Sabro someone?” The internet is no help. All I see is beer. Beer has taken over the internet. Anyway, it’s hops, if nothing else. They are described as: “fruity and citrus—tangerine, coconut, tropical fruit and stone fruit.” Stone fruit? I think whoever wrote that was stoned. But they go on: “With hints of cedar, mint, and cream.” This is where I add the emoji with blue stripe tears running down its face—if I’m using that correctly. The Hoplark website is a little more sober: “Sabro hops shine with their sweet tropical fruit notes and aromas.” They also have a cute hoppiness rating intensity scale (from “whoa” to “wee bit”)—and these register as “kinda.” I’ll go with… all of that. I can’t nail down a particular attribute, I mean aside from the “way too much” description, above. “Fresh” is the only thing I’d add, and, oh, very very delicious. Attractive orange and off-white two-tone can. Also, I noticed they have a “tasting club” where you get a supply of various hop water every month—which would be really fun—I’ll jump on that if my ship comes in. If it hasn’t been beset with pirates or sunk by a hurricane. But the way things are going currently, I’m looking to cut back on things—streaming, internet, travel, doctors, food, hipster food clubs.

10.12.23

Polar – Ruby Red Grapefruit

It’s not going to be red, is it? Good god, that would be weird. Does red grapefruit have a different flavor than regular grapefruit? Look it up. I guess it does (well, all grapefruit is different from all other grapefruit, so, of course). I guess red grapefruit (that is, red on the inside) is somewhat sweeter, but this water isn’t sweet—I’m not sure where that leaves us. I guess I used to think pink and red grapefruit juice was colored with red food coloring, but it’s the kind of grapefruit. Though I suppose you have to look at individual brands to see if any add color. No added color here, of course—but what if there was—wouldn’t that be weird? What if it was exactly as red as rubies? Which is almost blood-red. No, I wouldn’t go for that. The pink can is nice. I’m sure Polar struggled a bit to make this one stand out—it’s hard to compete with La Croix using that fancy French name for theirs. Calling it “Ruby Red”—rather than just “Grapefruit”—certainly inspires the imagination some. And it tastes good, of course.

10.4.23

AHA – Peach + Honey

This is just about the palest can I’ve seen—it’s pale metallic pink and pale metallic gold—which represents the outside and the inside of a peach, I guess—it’s really quite attractive. I guess the paleness also represents sparkling water—just, you know, in general. This sparkling water business is a colorless proposition, that’s for sure. Pale. But not a bad thing. This is the brand that’s “under the authority of Coca-Cola”—for whatever that’s worth, or not. It does taste a bit like peach… honey, not so much. But I can imagine it. A hilarious thing on the can—it says: “Naturally Flavored + Other Natural Flavors”—I’m rolling on the floor. I don’t know if that’s an intentional joke… or something I just don’t understand… but, for some reason, I find that hilarious. And either way, I’m not arguing with a laugh.

9.26.23

Hoplark Sparkling HopTea – the Citra Bomb One

Hoplark, from Boulder, Colorado, makes a lot of different hop beverages, both hop tea and hop water—regular flavors and limited editions—look at their website, it’s almost overwhelming. I bet there are some real fanatics who try them all—and I love the idea of seasonal and limited releases. The HopTeas I’ve seen come in these bold, 16-ounce cans with really busy, intense, flat-color, and grey, can art—a lot of graphics and text on it—fairly overboard, really—but you wish it was a 20-ouncer, or bigger. This one is made from white peony tea and Citra hops—which, I guess, is hops with floral and citrus flavor, just like it sounds. I suppose it is citrusy, but it’s mostly hoppy, and delicious. The color is a pale, pale green—lovely. I want to drink only this, in life, give up all the rest of it. Well, not really… but I do wish I could afford to have this around all the time. I’m thinking of moving to Boulder, so maybe you can get it cheaper there… or maybe my ship will come in or something, or I’ll plan a big heist of their warehouse. It’s the wild west, right? I’ve had white peony tea before—and it was delicious, but really subtle—but I kind of forgot about it. I don’t know if anyone makes bottled, cold, white tea, but probably. One thing I do know—I never really made a point of thinking about this—that bottled, sweetened green tea is really gross. Fuck that shit. Green tea (and probably white tea) should never be sweetened. The combo of this white peony tea and hops, specifically these Citra hops—they really hit a home run with this one, and they know it. It’s an excellent drink. Not too subtle with the hops, just enough. This stuff isn’t cheap—really kind of pricy—but seems like it should cost more—it’s actually worth it. Maybe it is cheap for something truly gourmet.

9.21.23

Klarbrunn Sparkling Water – Lemon

This is one I hadn’t seen before—maybe it’s new? The can doesn’t look that different than any other sparkling water, but there’s something about it I like. Maybe just all the yellow. It’s funny, my regular drink at home is filtered, refrigerated water, filling my water bottle, with a dash of lemon juice, usually—just to make it more tasty—so I’m every day drinking lemon water, is what I’m saying, so lemon sparkling water might be right off the bat… old—but it’s not. It’s good. I wonder what the name means? Look it up! The internet says: “In the early 1800’s, European settlers discovered artesian springs bringing clear fresh water from deep underground. They called these natural fountains Klarbrunn.” That sounds like IM (Internet Malarky) to me, but we’ll go with it. The can says it’s from Watertown, Wisconsin, which makes it “local” (for me)! Watertown. Get it? It’s also the name of my favorite Sinatra album. (This is true, but it’s a different Watertown.) Their website says “since 1987”—shocking! So they’ve been in the natural sparkling mineral water game for a while. They have some interesting looking waters—I’ll do some exploring later. Anyway, exciting—this is one of my favorites lately—it’s a good lemon flavor, and it’s one of the better looking cans. Where exactly is Watertown? Oh, it’s about halfway between Milwaukee and Madison. I want to visit there! Maybe I’ll want to move there. Maybe I can get a job at Klarbrunn!

9.10.23

Polar – Raspberry Pink Lemonade

I like the can for this one—they were really going for it. It’s pink with five silver horizontal stripes, a big yellow lemon with a green leaf, a couple of pink raspberries, and blue lettering—fonts all over the place. This isn’t going to be pink—in color, is it? Of course not. The raspberry flavor is what adds the “pinkness”—I guess. I believe traditional pink lemonade was just lemonade with coloring—not necessarily flavor. Of course, once people realized that red food coloring was bullshit, some wise guy got the idea—hey, we can add come red fruit juice to lemonade and make pink lemonade, that way. This is a little different than the regular Polar water—which is just carbonated water and natural flavors—in that it also has “essence of fresh lemons.” I don’t know what that means, actually—I guess you would have to know where the “natural flavors” come from, first of all, and then how this “essence” is derived. I guess this might take a bit of research. I’ll have to check how my research grant is coming along. But as far as the flavor goes, it’s pretty weird. You get an initial flavor—which I think comes from the smell—and then you get the water and bubbles, and then you get an after-flavor—which is very different than the initial flavor. At first, I found this aftertaste kind of gross—definitely odd, and off-putting. But just in the course of drinking my first can of it, it’s growing on me a little. Maybe because I keep wanting that sensation—so I can try to figure out what it reminds me of. I’m always complaining about waters not being intense, strange, and mysterious enough—and this one certainly is that. Actually, the more I drink, the more I like it. Outstanding!

9.5.23

Bubly – Blackberry

Maybe blackberry isn’t a real challenge as a flavor—but they got it right. It tastes exactly like blackberry jam on toast—which happens to taste like big, old, ripe blackberries. I guess it’s not the most complicated fruit flavor—even if it is sublime and intense. I’ve got a history with blackberries—I had them in my yard in Oregon (good blackberry place). I never had a BlackBerry phone, but I had a fake one. Judy Bolton’s cat (the star of Judy Bolton books) is named Blackberry. Though I don’t care for the font on their cans, I like the depiction of bubbles, and I really like the color on this one. It’s a deep, deep, metallic purple. I said “deep” twice to try to get across my impression of it—it’s like you can see off into some kind of mystical place on this can. It’s just a color, I guess, but they ought to make more cars this color. No they shouldn’t—they should pass a law against it—ever. Really good flavor. It’s good. But I’ve got to say (nothing against this one), I’m just about through with berry flavored water (straw, blue, cherry, black, mixed, etc.) berry—on the bottom of my want list lately. Though I’m thinking of bringing back the character, Barry Fruitage, somewhere (in the fiction realm).

8.24.23

Agua de Piedra – Natural Mineral Water

This is the best bottle I’ve yet seen—well, the bottle is light green glass, and 22 ounces—but the label is really great looking, kind of classy and classic, old time—it looks like it could be from the Old West—but not self-consciously so. It’s got a cap that you need an opener with, which is always exciting. It’s a mineral water from Mexico. The bottle says: “Our natural spring water owes its unique flavor to the mineral profile provided by filtration through the geological formations of the Huasteca Basin from Nuevo Leon, Mexico.” I can’t say it better than that. Their website looks nice—doesn’t tell you a lot—but has some nice photos of crazy outcroppings of rock. Piedra translates to stone. I mean, it’s always kind of hard to believe this water is out in nature somewhere, dripping down and being mineralized, and then they bottle it “at the source” etc. I guess the carbon dioxide is added for carbonation. I suppose there are many ways to achieve carbonation and you could become a connoisseur of that alone. This one reacted really weirdly in the glass—it kept bubbling for a long time, and unevenly, which was exciting. The water is very good, quite delicious. The mineral taste is subtle, which is okay. I don’t know if I could tell it from other mineral waters in a taste test, but if I had to drink this and only this, I’d be happy with it.

8.10.23

Simple Truth Organic – Mango Grapefruit Seltzer

Another company going with the tall, skinny cans. I have to admit that I like that style. The brand, “Simple Truth Organic” is made by Kroger—it’s their “organic” line of products—that I can only hope are legitimately organic. I will try not to hold a grudge—I’ll just assume the seltzer division has no tangible connection to the arm of Kroger that has destroyed my neighborhood grocery store through mismanagement, greed, and complete disregard for the customer. I expected the worst here—“Mango Grapefruit?”—it sounds like someone’s getting a little too conceptionally (what’s that word? ) whimsical. But hey, it’s not half bad. Well, it’s better than that. (I suppose “not half bad” actually means, “not good”—so wrong choice of words—but that’s what popped into my head.) It’s actually good. I don’t notice the grapefruit—but I do notice the mango, which can be a dominating flavor. But maybe in this case the grapefruit functions by muting the mango, to some degree, and enhancing it. It is perhaps a smart flavor combination, after all. Well done, Seltzer Division. This will actually encourage me to try other of their varieties—and not simply ignore them due to their affiliations.

8.3.23

Hoplark Sparkling Water – Mosaic Hops

As of the writing of this (see date on bottom), this is my number one sparkling beverage drink. The two-tone, light blue and white can is music to my ears. It goes down faster and with more enthusiasm than beer used to—when I lustily drank (too much) beer. I am composing love letters to the chef who makes it (right here, you’re reading it—admittedly you have had to do the legwork to find this love letter). It’s one of Hoplark’s hop waters—unlike the hop teas, no tea, just hops and sparking water. It’s really good. Maybe one of the more hoppy hop beverages I’ve had—is that because there’s more hops in the recipe, or it’s using hops with more pronounced flavor? I don’t know. According to the can, it’s “Mosaic Hops”—so I’ll have to claim ignorance—or look that up. It’s a kind of hops that’s been developed from breeding other kinds of hops. It seems to be a popular one in beermaking. It’s supposed to be fruity and citrus and pine—according to the can: “Pine-Forward.” Hell yes. To me, it’s just delicious—I can never make all those flavor comparisons, like with coffee, you know (“notes of raspberry, gun oil, and Faulkner”). To me, something is either gross or delicious. But… I read about hops for a while—there’s now between a billion and… infinite varieties—just like you’d expect, as the beer makers have gone nuts. I guess that’s a pretty cool thing—which I’ve more or less ignored since I stopped drinking beer in the early Nineties. But now, at least… I get to enjoy hops! So I’m excited about it. At some point I’ll have to do some taste tests to see if I can tell the difference between this hop and that—and see if I can develop preferences. But for now, I’m just excited about finding more hop water.

7.25.23

Richard’s Rainwater – Still

Contents: Rain. That’s what it says. Yes, it says that. I believe it. I want to believe it. I wonder if this is correct, though—I mean, the difference between rain and rainwater. I’m thinking it’s rain when it’s coming down, but once it’s been earthbound, collected, it becomes rainwater. They know that, though, if that’s the case. They’re just being cute saying: “Ingredients: rain.” It certainly captures your imagination. The taste is no taste, fresh and clean—it’s as good tasting as any plain, still water I’ve ever had. It goes down like nothing. It comes in a 16 ounce can with a really nice design—small, stylized, two-tone raindrops, alternating two versions, utilizing three shades of blue—a clever, killer design. Naturally, there’s a good website that explains more—I’ll read it sometime. A guy named Richard started the company. (Not to be confused with Richards Wild Irish Rose bumwine. Though, if that company wants to get in the sparking water game, I’m on board for “Triple Peach!”) This Richard’s also makes carbonated rainwater—which I’ll try when I find some. (Though… carbonated rainwater? Kinda weird.) And then, someday, what I’d really like to do is visit wherever the rain is captured and ultimately put in these containers. That’s got to be fascinating. I really like the idea. Of course, many questions arise.

7.17.23

La Croix – Tangerine

Pretty much anyone blindfolded would guess this one as tangerine—they really nailed the flavor of the actual fruit—and I suppose part of that is the heady smell of the rind, the oils that spray up when you peel it. The water is so tangerine, in fact, it’s almost boing—and makes you long for one of those you’re on the fence about. Or maybe that’s just me—maybe you appreciate something that’s done well. This is a really good one. Really tasty—and I’d definitely grab it at an event—when I desire both stimulation and comfort. On a sad note, it reminded me that I somehow failed to buy a little box of clementines last winter/holiday season—were they not in the store? Now it’s 4th of July already. Why is it oranges at Christmas and hot dogs on 4th of July? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Does anyone have a clementine water? How about kumquat water? I’m a bit curious, now, how this one compares to La Croix’s “Orange” flavored water—but I’m not going to get into that taste-test mania—I mean, pitting one against another. I’ll get to that one eventually. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the tangerine—the name came from Tangier (Morocco)—just read that—seems obvious now that I know it. And from tangerine, no doubt, came Tang.

7.3.23

S.Pellegrino – Sparkling Natural Mineral Water

This is the mineral water I most commonly see, and have for years, and I’ve always liked it. The one I’m drinking right now is in a 750ml green glass bottle—it’s got a nice label that resembles printed currency, with a distinctive red star on the label and cap. On the label it says: “Bottled at the source, San Pellegrino Terme (Bergamo) Italy.” I could look that up on a map, but I haven’t traveled in Italy—it would just make me long to get out of town. It’s an extremely pleasant, gentle, slightly mineral tasting, sparking water. I’d drink it all day every day if it was in front of me. I saw some website’s ranking of mineral waters awhile back (I read those things occasionally, for fun, not seriously) and this ranked dead last, and they said it had gone downhill—but I don’t buy it. It tastes good to me, and I have no reason to believe that. One thing that does bother me is they also sell this in plastic bottles, as well as glass—I don’t know if the plastic affects the flavor—but I’m guessing it does. Plus, plastic is bad. No two ways about it. If I have the option to buy the glass bottle, of course I’d buy the glass. I suppose if you’re running around town on a hot day and want to carry a big bottle of sparking water in your backpack, plastic would be lighter, but I’m not going to fall for it—the water is what’s heavy. There’s no point in the plastic bottle—I won’t review anything that only comes in plastic.

6.27.23

Sierra Nevada – Hop Splash

This is the Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. version of sparkling hop water—made with Citra and Amarillo hops—if that means anything to you. I suppose I could learn what qualities these different hops have—if I drink enough of these hop waters, I might. This combo is supposed to impart notes of peach, mango, and grapefruit. I can see that. I would also add: Laura Nyro. Though… that might be because I’m listening to Laura Nyro right now. I guess it’s not a controlled experiment. One thing I did notice, when you smell it, in the glass, before tasting it, it smells kind of poopy. But then, if you think about it, peach and mango, and even grapefruit smell a little poopy. On the other hand, maybe I need to wash out my tasting glass. Once it enters your mouth, though, that poopy smell goes right away and it’s delicious. I don’t think Sierra Nevada is going to quit making beer—they’re from way back in the making-good-beer craze, as I remember. The back of the can says: “Not the right time for a beer, but got a hop craving?” That’s funny… but when I used to drink beer, I don’t think it was exactly the hops that I craved. And there was never any time that was “not the right time for a beer.” Of course, for me, it hasn’t been the right time for a beer in over 31 years now. Though now, against all odds, I do, quite frequently, have a hop craving.

6.20.23

Acqua Panna – Natural Spring Water

You might want to make sure you have a clean palate before trying this one, because its charms are subtle. This is not a sparkling water—but I bought it anyway, because I liked the bottle. I am mostly focusing on sparkling water, but I can make some exceptions. This one tastes exactly like water that comes out of my faucet, after it’s gone through the Brita filter, that is. It certainly is clean and refreshing, but I can’t taste any mineral character. It’s simple spring water from Tuscany, Italy, and they say they’ve been taking it from the Earth since 1564. I really like this bottle—it’s a half-liter size, clear glass that has a slight green tinge to it. The label is classy looking, simple gray and white, with orange letters: Acqua Panna, and an orange fleur-de-lis. The cap (which requires an opener) is white with a silver and orange fleur-de-lis—very cool looking. The whole enterprise seems classy—I like the idea of making this your regular water—you’d feel like a rich person, indeed—have a case of it in your house at all times. I mean, I won’t—because I’m a goofball, a clown, a philistine—trying every flavor known to man. But I like the idea of the me that says: this water is enough.

6.11.23

Alani – Piña Colada

Again, the tall, skinny cans, like a Red Bull tallboy—and it strikes me how you would guess, by its size, that it’s less than 12 ounces—which makes me wonder about all the machinations that went into determining the proportions of the standard 12 once can. The next thing that struck me was that it smells gross—and with this flavored sparkling water, the smell is the taste, so… Oh, well, I had to try it—and… gross, with a capital S. Maybe I was influenced by being at the dentist the other day, and the woman cleaning my teeth said they were out of mint toothpaste, but they had other flavors, so I laughed and asked what my choices were, and one was Piña Colada—so I tried that. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was exceedingly gross. The art on the can is hilarious—though it doesn’t really look like pineapple and coconut—I don’t know what it looks like—but I like it. The sad thing is, the Piña Colada was one of my favorite drinks when I was young—a delicious cocktail. But when I think about it, a virgin Piña Colada does sound gross—as in… no. Maybe the thing to do with this particular water is mix it with some kind of rum—not sure if light or dark—and some alchemy might occur, and you might end up with a delicious, less-sweet Piña Colada. I think I suggested that with some other sparking water—I mean, mixing it with an appropriate spirit. I’m not going to fall for it, though. I’m not going to start drinking. It occurs to me now that this sparkling water business could very well be a slippery slope.

5.23.23