Fanta Muscat | Patience is Key

We're on a roll! Only four months since the last post!

I promised a casual stranger I'd sift through the ashes of "the Fizz" this week, to resurrect the project for a post on a particular beloved drink. A promise from my lips is a promise richer than goat's blood. I'm writing this review on a napkin, sitting on a neighbor's roof with a cherry stem in my mouth. I'm trying to do that thing where you tie the stem into a knot using only your tongue. Saw it on the internet once. I've been hiding from the fuzz since last night. They caught me in a cage sipping a bottle of Fanta Muscat through a (rare) hollowed-out (infant) elephant tusk.

Truth is, "the W.F." has been on my heart a ton lately. When a certain writing project comes to an end—and assuming I'll have found a cure for this rare neck disorder—I'd like to make this blog a more constant, less part-time gig. Right now it seems to be more of a part-part-part-part time gig. Except with more "parts." To those of you who fancy reading vital information related to sodas, I send my apologies. If there's anything you'd like to see in the future on our improved beta 3.1 site, shoot me an email. Or if you'd like, send me sodas. I'll always be willing to drink and write about them. Sometime before Armageddon.

On to the drink...

My third cousin purchased this bottle on a recent voyage to Japan. Japan is a village outside of Hungary, and if I'm not mistaken, it exists on a quaint hill overlooking springs and ferris wheels. Here in Japan, Muscadines run free, along with tiny leprous rabbits. Seriously, this drink is gooder than you can imagine. We drank it over ice, and immediately decided it was time to go sailing. And just so you can fully grasp the absurdity of our admiration, neither of us owns a sailboat, nor do we live by the water. We'd like to live by the water someday, but can only hope to do it after this gall-dern recession ends. Soda bloggers can't find work these days—who saw that coming?

I'd like to find some more bottles of this drink outside of France or Japan, so if you happen to be in-the-know, help a brother out!

Have a great summer, caffeine luvrs. See you soon.

Jarritos Tamarind | Tiny Jars of Euphoria

On a train ride through the Yucatán peninsula this spring, a team of scientists and I found a mysterious straw bag hiding in a storage compartment. We opened it to find not potatoes, but dozens upon dozens of ripe tamarinds. Having gone through weeks of voluntary starvation, we proceeded to eat the contents in a matter of minutes. When Lairy tossed the empty sack out the window, my environmental convictions went aflutter. Also, was it me, or were we hearing the sound of glass breaking? I adjusted my "'nocs," and peeked out the window. There it was. A bottle of Jarritos Tamarindo: Refresco Sabor Natural laying on the track. Helpless, shattered and fizzing. Surely it would be a few hours before our next bathroom break, and I could only hope to find another one then. I sunk into my seat, tearfully remembering the delightful taste from years ago. Oh, how it felt "my first time"! ...

(This section has been deleted—Ed.)

Tamarinds are tropical trees native to Africa, and now, thanks to their seeds being scattered throughout the world, they've gained popularity in various regions in Mexico and India. The pulp is valued for its sour and acidic—and at the right stage sweet—flavor**. The soda peeps have mimicked it pretty well, as far as I can tell. The aftertaste, however, reminds me more of the favorite lip balm worn by my first wife. It's a memory only enveloping me in yet more sadness.

Mexico's first national soft drink brand has been goin' strong, as they say, for nearly 60 years

now. The great Don Francisco Hill (a.k.a. “El Güero”†) named the drink as a nod to the clay pottery jugs, called jarritos, that helped keep coffee and other drinks fresh. I was lucky enough to be one of Don's original test subjects, back before I earned my fortune. During these humble times I had vowed to never again find myself a participant in the illegal arms trade, but still needed easy money to get me a ticket back to the States after my banishment (some involvement in a barfight preluded this, where I seriously injured a team of five or six Hell's Angels.. we won't go into it here).

You can find individual bottles of Jarritos at Latin Merchant.

*Note: It should not be confused with Barrilitos, also from Mexico, which is waiting in the fridge for future review.
**Speaking of flavors, look at all these! How will I ever get to them all?

†Not a joke.

Celeste Peach Soda | Spending New Year's Alone

This New Year's Eve was not different than others in that many found themselves celebrating by popping champagne bottles. I, however, saw myself consuming glass after glass after glass after glass after glass of Celeste Peach Soda. "What're you doing over there?" one of my closest, most beardest friends asked. "Nothing," I told her, and then, "leave me alone," and also something along the lines of, "it's none of your business, you foolish stupid stupid foolish foolish person!" And I ran to the nearest closet, tears falling like bad weather. Minutes later, I was being dragged from the house by my ankles, but only after I'd managed to smuggle another bottle under the coatsleeve of my windproof jacket.

I grabbed my necklace/whistling device and blew my special top secret birdcall whistle-sound for my special hired personnel cab driver person to arrive. I hopped in. He offered some water. I drank the entire pitcher, and then broke it over my head, thinking how weird is it that pitchers are made of glass these days? After that, my recollections are vague, though I do remember pulling up unannounced at another party, cursing everyone in sight, and the coolers especially for housing only cans of cheap beer and warm Diet Pepsi Lime.

Now, thankfully, Celeste sodas (and energy drinks) have been planted at various gas stations throughout the South. According to this article, they can be found at The Pantry, Kangaroo Express, Cowboys, Handy Way, Quick Stop, Zip Mart, Fast Lane, Big K, Depot, Mini Mart, Lil Champ Food Store, and Petro Express. The drinks are strong, tasty, and completely enjoyable in all other regards. They're near perfect on road trips, even better on scuba diving voyages, and forever wonderful when served over ice at bat mitzvahs. We'll be reviewing another fabulous Celeste product again sometime, hopefully before the shades are pulled over 2009. Maybe we'll even talk to this Celeste and see how it feels to have your very namesake printed on a soda bottle.

These days people like to go on and on about the true meaning of Christmas. With that in mind, I'd like for people to also take some time to reflect on the true meaning of New Year's. New Year's is a time to be spent with family and friends. It's a time for getting conned into an overpriced gym membership. It's a time for kissing total strangers on the lips. Take a moment to remember how bad last year was, and be completely honest with yourself when you envision the thousands of ways that this one could be even worse. Then drink some peach soda, and watch your problems dissolve into oblivion.

(photo: fireworks in Sydney; one of many locations where the author did not spend the holiday)

Nygårda Julmust | Happy Whatever You Celebrate

This morning, as I was marking another x on my smutty Mrs. Clause calendar, I realized it was time for:

THE WEEKLY FIZZ SPECIAL YEAR END HOLIDAY SALE.. err.. INSTALLMENT

Yuletide fizzlings to be had by you, and all your kinship and grandfizzles! The Ghost of Christmas Mental Affliction and I will be guiding you as we traverse underprivileged neighborhoods, making our list and checking it for factual and grammatical errors. Don't forget to pack your flask. We'll be filling it to the brim with the rare exotic mistle-tinged taste of Nygårda Julmust (careful.. it's from Sweden).

Now you know I hate dwelling on bad holiday memories. But after sitting through the bulk of last year's VHS tape slide show footage, I just can't help it. As you may or may not remember, someone drank too much cider and proceeded to crash their sleighbells into grandma's giant pile of dead snowmen. This gave us no choice but to call the authorities. And then the New Year's incident at the McDonald's playground with the binoculars? Needless to say, it's been a rough year.

Which is why we've enlisted help from Mr. Clause. Not the phony Santa we all know from the mall and the movies and stuff, but Blanta himself. Take a seat on his chunky lap, while he scratches your back and listens to your naughty Christmas desires.

Oh right, about the soda. Julmust is a beverage consumed around Christmas in Sweden. In fact, during this time the country's Coca-Cola sales drop by roughly 50% due to its popularity. It tastes a little like beer, but with a lot of spice and no alcohol. Sort of bitter and strange, truthfully. My advice is not to drink it from your stocking, like you might with wassail, hot cocoa, or the like. Body shots are okay, but only after the children are fast asleep. And when Uncle Freddie (you know, the guy who kissed your girlfriend under the mistletoe the year before) punches you in the chestnuts, don't cry. Just string him up with lights and let those frisky elves take care of him. I'll show you where to stash the body.

Get some at IKEA, after you purchase that coffee table you'll never be able to assemble. Get in the spirit! And then decorate your mass spam emails with cool holiday-themed ASCII art.