I have to admit, I didn’t expect much from Bulldog Root Beer. The label on this particular bottle was pretty beat up, and it had a best-by date of “S9B,” but I was drawn in by the promise of cane sugar, honey, maltodextrin (another sweetener) and, for the first time, SALT. The taste was superbly well-balanced, with a strong hit of vanilla that may have been brought out by the salt. No head retention whatsoever, but I’ll overlook that ’cause the taste was that good. Am I really writing about soda like a wine snob? Anyway, I’m gonna put this on on the recommended list. Will buy this one again if I see it.
Rating: Five caps out of five.
I’ll fess up: long nights at the office, a kitchen remodel, a summer vacation, and a foray into HGH injections and Shake Weights took my eyes off the sweet prize. Let’s put all that behind us and get back to brewing some root beer.
To get things back on track, let’s have a taste of something I poured while stripping two layers of 50-year-old linoleum.
Cool Mountain Gourmet Soda Root Beer out of Des Plaines, Illinois. Their news section of Web site hasn’t been updated since 2004. Suddenly taking a month off doesn’t feel so bad.
The verdict: cane sugar was too sweet and overpowering. Taste was fairly typical of a middle-of-the-road soda.
The rating: 2 out of 5 caps.
Have no fear. The root beer project is still alive and well. We’re just remodeling the kitchen, so we’ve been cooking out of a microwave and toaster oven for the past few weeks. But exciting developments are afoot. In the meantime, look out for a few upcoming reviews–including a visit to an Amish farm where they brew their own.
Forgot to post this when I was there a few weeks back, but I got a chance to try the all-natural ginger ale at Big Bowl in Chicago. This ain’t Canada Dry: fresh ginger, and I’m pretty sure cane sugar. Very sweet, very refreshing. I’m sure this would be the perfect base for some great cocktails. Which, by the way, they happen to mix up (but I didn’t try).
Any college kid who’s ever jammed their roommate’s Accord key into the base of a can could tell you a story about that one beer that was so tongue-numbingly awful it was rendered undrinkable.
For me, it was a little beer called Bird’s Brew. Never ran into before or since my Junior year at Lehigh, but when we stumbled upon it at our local distributor, we thought we had found alcoholic nirvana. Should have been tipped off by the cartoon bird in a green football uniform on the can. Or the disclaimer that it was “not affiliated with any NFL franchise.” Or the starburst proclaiming “1989 Season” (this was 1991). Or the fact that it was $3—a case! Our stomach got bigger than our eyes. And we bought a pallet of it. That’s right: 90 cases. 2,160 cans.
I knew on the first sip that it was garbage. So did anyone we tried to pawn it off to. As bitter as Buddy Ryan. It got to the point where we resorted to throwing unopened cans at the rival frat down the hill in an effort to rid ourselves of our enormous mistake. Even as we ran out of our normal standby, Carling Black Label, guys were resorting to drinking a who-knows-how-old bottle of Sloe Gin we found in a broom closet before we’d crack another can of this swill.
I had forgotten all about Bird’s Brew (so did The Internet, apparently) until I had a taste of Maine Root Root Beer.
Maine Root proudly proclaims that it’s topped off with “Fair Trade Certified organic cane juice,” with “handcrafted ingredients” and “filtered pure water” (as opposed to that Love Canal groundwater I guess the other brewers use).
Props for going the organic route, but this stuff is just plain awful. Pours like root beer. Looks like root beer. But doesn’t smell or taste like root beer. I can’t even describe it, ’cause I poured it out after a single sip. Who pours out a soda? Hell, I even gave that Pepsi and coffee thing a full bottle taste test a few years back. Not this stuff.
I needed a shock to my system after this tasting, so I went with a good ol’ Kutztown Sarsaparilla (which my son calls “Fast Gorilla”). At least the town of my wife’s alma mater knows how to make a proper soda.
This is more like it.
Maine Root Review: 0 out of 5 caps. The Bird’s Brew of Root Beers.
Picked up some reading material recently:
Some of you have been asking me what’s up recently. A couple of things: First, I’m running some carbonation tests on plain water to discover the ideal carbonation level (so I don’t have to make experiments five gallons at a time). Secondly, I’ve found a source for natural ingredients, so my next plan (with the help of the above book) is to make a from-scratch, no extract, all natural soda. Getting the recipe just right will likely be one of my biggest hurdles. But like I’ve always said, hurdles are for hurdlers, and really nobody else.
I know the suspense has been killing you. I’ll be contacting the winner to arrange shipping. Suppose I’ve got to figure out how to pack this stuff! Look for more contests coming soon.
You gotta respect Louisiana’s Abita Brewing Company for carrying on a prohibition-era tradition. When our great grandparents lost their minds and decided that alcohol was devil juice, many of our nation’s breweries weathered the storm by firing up their bottling lines to churn out root beer. Abita happily churns out 17+ beers, and a singular soda, described on their Web site thusly:
Abita Root Beer is made with a hot mix process using spring water, herbs, vanilla and yucca (which creates foam). Unlike most soft drink manufacturers, Abita sweetens its root beer with pure Louisiana cane sugar. The resulting taste is reminiscent of soft drinks made in the 1940s and 1950s, before bottlers turned to corn sugar and fructose. Some soft drink makers add caffeine to their product, but Abita is naturally caffeine-free.
Gotta love the hot mix. Not sure if Louisiana cane sugar is any better than the stuff you get out of the Domino’s bag from the supermarket, but I’m not gonna fault their copywriter. I will, however, note that caffeine is a rare ingredient in root beer so to pat themselves on the back for not adding something that’s not supposed to be there in the first place is a little self-congratulatory. Remind me not to add narwhal blubber to my root beer.
Enjoyed with: Primo Chicken Cutlet Suprimo Hoagie
Ruminations: Foamy head, nice balance of vanilla and spice. A good, middle-of-the-road benchmark to judge other root beers by.
Rating: 2.5 of out 5 caps.
What took this combo so long to materialize in my mug?
FYI: Cook’s Illustrated (one of my favorite magazines) claims the vanilla bean specks are just for show, but I think Cook’s Illustrated needs a little more joy in their test kitchen.
Say, what’s that poking out from under the case of Leinies?
OMG!!!!!!1 It’s a case of Batch No. 6!!!!!
Want to get your grubbies on a sixer of your very own? Leave a comment via the button at the top of this post, and we’ll pick a reader at random on April 15 to get our first giveaway six pack.
ROFLMAO!
