Jones Holiday Soda tasting
Nov. 24th, 2005 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jedusorAn account, with links to pictures, of the family Jones Holiday Soda tasting.
The table was set with two glasses per place: one empty, one full of each person's choice of mouthwash (milk for Clayton, CapriSun for me, water for the rest of us). The camera was ready. Every eye was on the ten bottles Mom had lined up neatly in front of her place: Salmon Pate, Turkey and Gravy (two bottles, one from each set), Wild Herb Stuffing, Broccoli Casserole, Corn on the Cob, Brussels Sprouts Casserole, Pumpkin Pie, Pecan Pie, and Cranberry.
Only two among us sampled the first, as Cordell and I refused to ingest soda named after meat even if it was supposedly vegetarian, and Clayton claimed not to like seafood. The reactions were neutral at first, but Bill's expression gradually changed. "Could be worse," said Mom, shrugging. "WILL be worse," Bill corrected her, eyeing the remaining bottles.
Turkey and Gravy was next. Cordell and I still opted out, but Clayton gave it a shot. According to him, it was "really foul." According to Mom, it was "NOT good." Bill didn't comment, but his expression was priceless. According to Link, who was given a taste, it warranted seconds.
The Wild Herb Stuffing was, everyone agreed, watery and not very good. Cordell's comment: "Can't these people just make root beer?"
Next came the second most dreaded of the bunch: Broccoli Casserole. It was tentatively doled out. Sniffs did not reveal much. I finally took a sip, and after a moment, said, "How scary is it that this isn't actually that bad?" "Well," Bill responded, "it has nothing to do with broccoli or casserole..." Mom put in, "Coulda been a lot worse." "Coulda been a lot better," said Bill. "Joos!" exclaimed Link.
The verdict for Corn on the Cob was that it tasted like watered-down vanilla cream soda. Nothing special.
Then came the one we'd all been waiting for, the one that had been proclaimed "probably the most vile thing I have ever put in my mouth" by a sword swallower. Yes, it was Brussels Sprout with Prosciutto. Mom opened it, smelled it, decisively screwed the cap back on and set it down. She was reaching for the next when someone (I think Clayton) clamored to sniff it too. The bottle was followed around the table by a uniform expression of disgust, which I didn't manage to get on camera because I was too eager to smell it myself. Which I did. Then I reached for my glass and poured a tiny bit in. "It's fuming," said Bill. "I can see vapors coming off of the glass." Nevertheless, I drank it, then drank some more because there hadn't been enough in the first glass to really taste it. It smelled worse than it tasted, honestly. Not that it wasn't nasty, but it was relatively palatable.
Pumpkin pie was less eventful- it tasted like butterscotch soda. Mom, beginning to sound a bit like a broken record, said, "Could be worse." Bill snorted and said, "That's supposed to make us feel better? We could be not drinking it at all!"
Around then, I'm sorry to say, was when I started feeling the brussels sprouts. I think I had some on my lip and licked it, or something, but it triggered a reaction in my stomach that made it hard not to vomit. The memory of the stuff is WAY worse than it was when I actually ingested it. I said out loud that I was starting to feel it, and Clay said, "I can't believe you drank that much of it." "Well, I couldn't get a good taste of it!" I protested. "There ARE no good tastes of it," said Bill.
Pecan Pie was pretty much hazelnut-flavored.
Bill declared Cranberry "something people might actually buy," but I found it absolutely gross. It was the only glass I didn't finish.
The table was set with two glasses per place: one empty, one full of each person's choice of mouthwash (milk for Clayton, CapriSun for me, water for the rest of us). The camera was ready. Every eye was on the ten bottles Mom had lined up neatly in front of her place: Salmon Pate, Turkey and Gravy (two bottles, one from each set), Wild Herb Stuffing, Broccoli Casserole, Corn on the Cob, Brussels Sprouts Casserole, Pumpkin Pie, Pecan Pie, and Cranberry.
Only two among us sampled the first, as Cordell and I refused to ingest soda named after meat even if it was supposedly vegetarian, and Clayton claimed not to like seafood. The reactions were neutral at first, but Bill's expression gradually changed. "Could be worse," said Mom, shrugging. "WILL be worse," Bill corrected her, eyeing the remaining bottles.
Turkey and Gravy was next. Cordell and I still opted out, but Clayton gave it a shot. According to him, it was "really foul." According to Mom, it was "NOT good." Bill didn't comment, but his expression was priceless. According to Link, who was given a taste, it warranted seconds.
The Wild Herb Stuffing was, everyone agreed, watery and not very good. Cordell's comment: "Can't these people just make root beer?"
Next came the second most dreaded of the bunch: Broccoli Casserole. It was tentatively doled out. Sniffs did not reveal much. I finally took a sip, and after a moment, said, "How scary is it that this isn't actually that bad?" "Well," Bill responded, "it has nothing to do with broccoli or casserole..." Mom put in, "Coulda been a lot worse." "Coulda been a lot better," said Bill. "Joos!" exclaimed Link.
The verdict for Corn on the Cob was that it tasted like watered-down vanilla cream soda. Nothing special.
Then came the one we'd all been waiting for, the one that had been proclaimed "probably the most vile thing I have ever put in my mouth" by a sword swallower. Yes, it was Brussels Sprout with Prosciutto. Mom opened it, smelled it, decisively screwed the cap back on and set it down. She was reaching for the next when someone (I think Clayton) clamored to sniff it too. The bottle was followed around the table by a uniform expression of disgust, which I didn't manage to get on camera because I was too eager to smell it myself. Which I did. Then I reached for my glass and poured a tiny bit in. "It's fuming," said Bill. "I can see vapors coming off of the glass." Nevertheless, I drank it, then drank some more because there hadn't been enough in the first glass to really taste it. It smelled worse than it tasted, honestly. Not that it wasn't nasty, but it was relatively palatable.
Pumpkin pie was less eventful- it tasted like butterscotch soda. Mom, beginning to sound a bit like a broken record, said, "Could be worse." Bill snorted and said, "That's supposed to make us feel better? We could be not drinking it at all!"
Around then, I'm sorry to say, was when I started feeling the brussels sprouts. I think I had some on my lip and licked it, or something, but it triggered a reaction in my stomach that made it hard not to vomit. The memory of the stuff is WAY worse than it was when I actually ingested it. I said out loud that I was starting to feel it, and Clay said, "I can't believe you drank that much of it." "Well, I couldn't get a good taste of it!" I protested. "There ARE no good tastes of it," said Bill.
Pecan Pie was pretty much hazelnut-flavored.
Bill declared Cranberry "something people might actually buy," but I found it absolutely gross. It was the only glass I didn't finish.
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-25 09:12 am (UTC)brussels sprout smelled like sewage.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-25 10:15 am (UTC)Never curious enough to try them, of course. And now I don't have to. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-26 06:19 am (UTC)for the good of humanityso I know that I will never in my life touch those flavors.How does Jones Soda stay in business? o.O
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Date: 2005-11-26 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-08 05:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 03:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-30 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-23 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-23 11:46 pm (UTC)