Flavrz Drink Mixes

Are these for the nature conscious? Certainly not. They’ve got enough packaging for three Crystal Light drink mixes. Are these for the busy people who need a convenient drink? Not really. The package is full of liquid, and that’s kind of strange and hazardous. Does it make the drink better? Does it taste good?

Read on, Foodketeers!

Lame, yes.

Flavrz Drink Concentrates were sent to me by the company for review, in their three flavors: Cherry Berry, Lemon-Lime, and Tropical. They’re drink mixers that can be added to 12-20 oz. of water. That’s a big margin of flavor for me. It’s the difference between that abysmal Dasani “Hint” water and a nice Fruit 2 O. So how are they?

I tried the Cherry Berry in a water bottle. I figured that with the copious amount of liquid, it would be equal to the powder ratio, with a 19.6 oz. recommended mix. It mixed to a nice rose color in the water, but the taste? Bleh. Tasted just like that damned Dasani.

Another thing I noticed which I really, really disliked was the flavor inconsistency. I’m not sure if it was the agave, but inexplicably, I found that there were like, liquid pockets floating around the water, like grease on a burger, where there was more flavor, possibly due to an inability to mix? Whatever it was, it was awful and led me to sip tentatively.

2/10- GROSS

Unfortunately, no photos of that. I can’t seem to find the ones I sent to my email address from my cell phone. None of lemon lime, either. But I can save you with tropical.

The lemon-lime, I decided, couldn’t be screwed up, and also opted for a smaller ratio of water. I filled my bottle up with twelve ounces and added the liquid, then gave it a good shake to disperse whatever those greasy pockets were before. And then I took a sip.

Awful. Even worse than before. The entire twelve ounces was permeated with a medicinal, metallic taste bearing little resemblance to lemon or lime aside from a strange, not sour acidity and general lack of sweetness to the drink. Horrible. The taste stayed in my bottle for days until I washed it out with boiling water.


Although I was scared to try the last one, life has left me bereft of juice in the last week and I’m thirsty. So I bucked up for the sake of the review and tried it. It’s sweet! It’s cloying! It’s actually sort of tasty, in a strange way! The overall flavor reminds me of coconut, banana, and pineapple, and it comes in a pleasing orange color. Oddly enough, it even has that waxy coconut aftertaste. Hrm.

I don’t know how to feel about this. Even after mixing it, there were those strange, unmixed swirls, and I just didn’t like them as much as I thought. I’d never buy them unless the concentrations got better, and the greasiness went away. And they’re just not convenient for on the go. If I were to take these anywhere, they’d go right in my backpack, and I’d just worry about something puncturing one of them.


Lunchables Extra Cheesy Pizza

Lunchables shame me.

These stupid little meals are the results of my wasted childhood. My mother packed me lunches in bags and wrote my name on them and included notes, and damn it, I just wanted these fucking Lunchables.

If I’d only heeded her wisdom. If only. If only.

This Lunchable demon contains the makings to create a full-scale nuclear apocalypse, or three small pizzas. It’s relatively sparse, containing none of the candy or Capri Sun pouches I remember as a child. Merely the stark remains of what used to constitute…a meal. It has three pizza crusts, a packet of sauce, and two compartments for mozzarella cheese and cheddar cheese.

The crusts are essentially canvases for mass destruction, and the taste is nothing special. It’s like eating a bland flatbread with sweet sauce and crappy cheese. The sauce appears to be appetizing. It has many different colored herbs in it, but the taste is sickeningly sweet like…oh yeah. Low budget pizza sauce. The cheese is cheese, but what really grosses me out is the appeal in eating these raw.

Save yourself money and heartbreak. Buy a frozen pizza. Thaw it. Eat it. Still cold. Then, cook it and eat it like pizza ought to have been eaten.
1/10- SHIT

Snapple Diet Peach Green Tea

I tried this tea late last night, after a hastily prepared chicken sandwich and a hot walk outside. I was looking forward to a refreshing, cool, and tasty beverage. All I got from this was the cold. And that was from an effort entirely of my own, as a result of refrigerating it prior.

This drink was just gross. Everyone has had canned peaches or fruit before, right? There’s always that residue of sugary, thick syrup at the bottom of the can that you either incorporate into a recipe or throw out. It appears that the Snapple company has made alliances with the canned fruit industry to take that syrup juice or whatever you call it and simply bottle it for their own profit.

The result is a sickly-sweet, thick liquid that refreshes less than it coats the throat. It’s too saccharine to drink more than a sip or two, and if there’s any peach flavor, I couldn’t find it. The dominant taste was of concentrated green tea and goop. Not a fan. Never will be. If this is the diet version, I hate to try what the sugared kind is like.

1/10- YUCK

Necco Twilight Candy Hearts

I bought these on a whim with some of the best people in the world. How could we pass these up?

Necco made these for the Twilight craze. It was probably the best purchase I’ve ever made. These were fucking hilarious. I mean, first, you have flavor names like Passion Fruit, Tempting Apple, Orange Obsession and Secret Strawberry. Then there’s the “from and to” header on the box so your own Edward Cullen can GIVE YOO HIS CANDEE HRTS OMGWTFBBW XOXOXOXOX”

I’m totally aware that says big, black woman and not barbecue.

There are the hearts. They come in a hard-to-open, vampire-piercing proof plastic bag, roughly 3/4 full. They’re just like conversation hearts, except they say enigmatic and occasionally worrisome phrases like “Bite Me,” “Live forever,” and “Forks.”

The flavors are pretty odious, but addictive. It’s like eating stale bubblegum. All the flavors tasted the same, varying in acidity and color, and the texture wasn’t like conversation hearts at all. Where the hearts are chalky and hard, these were chalky and chewy. Either they were left outside all night in a vampiric rainstorm, or the vampire glitter powder emulsifies them. Regardless of the cause, these are awful.

And yet, like the fangirl to Edward Cullen’s tired penis, I just can’t stop eating them.

Necco Twilight Candy Hearts: My brand of crappy, sparkly heroin.

1/10- HORRID

Asian EXTRAVAGANZA! Part 1: Drinks

Okay, so a little background. My friend Swagger and I went out yesterday on a delightful quest for an Ocean State Job Lot, which turned into a huge adventure finding and retrieving items from an Asian Grocery.

We got some beverages first, for review. I’ll be doing it all in part by cuisine. We found dollar store beverages and Asian things to show you today.

First up was the Wang Dream aloe juice. After giggling profusely at the funny name, we took a sip. The texture is very strange. It’s a very thick juice, and the texture is only comparable to drinking melted Jell-O. At first taste, it tasted like apple-scented shampoo would taste like. On the second round, it developed a muscat-like taste, and the little beads of aloe tasted much better. It was, in all, a really refreshing drink and not horrible for costing $1.70. The texture is a little off-putting, though. I kept expecting it to develop a skin on top, like its Jell-o imitation.

5/10- OKAY

We also found a treat I’d been dying to try, but hadn’t really wanted to order online: soda for weeaboos, AKA ramune. The ramune was immensely fun to open, like a grenade launcher, and I felt a real sense of accomplishment when I got the marble down and the soda tried to explode all over my hands.

Unfortunately, the taste was really disappointing. We had the choice of original, melon, Hawaiian blue, and strawberry, and chose strawberry. Swagger said the Japanese don’t like things too sweet, and it was evident in the taste. If anything, the ramune tasted like watery and minimally flavored seltzer. If that was strawberry flavored, plain must be really gross. A huge disappointment, even if the packaging was awesome. We loved the Engrish on the label, too. “Enjoy pop soda!”


That was it for the Asian beverages, as we’d already stocked up on discounted sodas at an Aldi and Ocean State Job Lot before. Onto the discounted stuff. We bought two sodas from a company called “Snow,” advertising crisp, minty beverages, and one ominously nomikered Java Pop.

The “Icy Green Tea- Light” Snow pop thing was nothing special in the way of bottle mechanics, like the ramune, and it was encouraged to serve “ice cold”. Okay. So we put our ice batons and waited. We took a sip.

The smell was intense, like we’d just sauntered into a Colgate factory on a hot day. It looked like beer, and tasted like sparkling Listerine. There was no green tea flavor at all. We now understand why these were three for a buck. They were loaded with sugar, 35 grams a bottle, but had no sugary or sweet taste to speak of, and were horrible. We spat them out and dumped the remainder of the soda in the yard.


Okay, so after that astronomical failure, we popped open the Whiteout Peach flavor. Not looking good so far, Swagger said. So we opened it, poured it into our glasses with ice batons, and waited. Took a sip. Again, we hated it. Just spitting out the drink made me feel much better.

I don’t know what was wrong with these two beverages, aside from the glaringly obvious fact that we bought them from a dollar store. But the Whiteout peach was exactly the same. There was no peach taste to find, it smelled like toothpaste, and was sugary on the label, but had no sugar to be found. These just sucked, completely.


I’m not proud to do it, but I have to give the Snow Pops my first zeroes. We spit them out. They were horrific.

Last up was the ever-intriguing Java Pop, in vanilla flavor. It boasted being all organic, all seeing, all knowing, with pure sugar cane.

We opened it and poured it into the bottle. It had a sickly sweet flavor of sugar and vanilla, like snorting powdered sugar. Upon trying it, we smacked our lips a little, probably trying to see if they stuck together. It did taste like vanilla coffee, that was accurate. In fact, if you condensed it, it would probably taste even better sans bubbles. But this combination was just gross. Soda and coffee is really disgusting. And the sugar this one had almost negated the fact that it was organic. Just disappointing.

1/10- GROSS

SNACKDOWN: Newman’s Own Organics Fat-Free Fig Newmans vs. Newman’s Own Organics Low-Fat Fig Newmans

Image Copyright SnackFace

Sometimes, it would do a Foodette well to listen to the advice of her readers. In this case, a new reader, Rosa, begged and pleaded with me for my life’s sake in the upcoming event of a Snackdown, this one, between Newman’s Own Organics Fat-Free Fig Newmans and the Low-Fat Fig Newmans.

I opened the fat-free FN’s. They smelled okay. I sniffed them again. And then I tried to take one out, and all the crust fell off it.

I bit into this, and it glued to the roof of my mouth. When I finally did unearth it, the crust was flavorless, and the middle was like a gelatinous, gluey Jell-o type texture, with an aftertaste that lingered in my mouth for about ten minutes of fermented raisins.

I did not like this. If you need a fat-free cookie, there’s no need to torture yourself. Newman’s Own Organics is an amazing company, but these were just awful.


The Low-Fat Fig Newman fared much better. It was like a gourmet Fig Newton, a little thicker, and none of that gelatinous texture of the fat-free. The cookies did not stick together, and the crust was buttery. There was no aftertaste.

The texture of these was much better. I could tell the difference between these two in an instant. I personally loved the low-fat ones, and recommend them for people with kids or people who love Fig Newtons. They’re better. Not my favorite, as I am a chocolate aficionado, but I like the less pedestrian idea of incorporating figs into cookies. It’s good.

Another really sweet aspect of the entire Newman’s Own Organic line is the little stories they put on the back of the packages. I really enjoy reading this, and hope they continue to incorporate these into their future packages and products.

You can find these at many stores around the country. One important thing to know, though, is that Newman’s Own Organics is a different subsidary than Newman’s Own!


Burger King Iced Mocha

I bought this in its only size, a medium, today.

The cup is strange. It’s very slender and rather thick, and the straw has a very large diameter, more appropriately suited for bubble tea or milkshake.

This drink was lukewarm. I thought it would have more ice than it did, as there is a specific little line on the cup for where to fill it with ice. It had no chocolate swirl like the photo showed or barely any chocolate flavoring. Come to think of it, it barely had any coffee flavoring. It was basically lukewarm whole milk with a twinge of brown dye, coffee extract and chocolate scent.

This was an awful drink. If I get a mocha anything, I’ll stick to Starbucks, because their mochas are just supreme.

1/10- GROSS

Judson-Atkinson Bunny Mallows

Image Copyright Judson-Atkinson Candies

I don’t know why I picked this up, but it was early in the morning, it was free, and it was from the bank.

I trust the bank with candy.

It was obviously an Easter leftover. They had Tootsie Rolls, too, and I could have reviewed those, but nooooo, I wanted to do something interesting for the sake of the blooooog.

You people fucking owe me.

I brought it home. I stared at the bunny. He stared at me.

I ate him, fully expecting him to be exactly what he was advertised as- a marshmallow, giving some liberty for hardness as it was after Easter, but instead, I was treated to the cotton-candy flavor equivalent of fucking heroin injected into my tongue. This was definitely liquefied cotton candy. I can taste the Red Lake #9.

No go, Judson-Atkinson. I want free stuff.

1/10- GROSS

Rudoloh’s OnYums Hot Flavored Rings

Image Copyright Rudolph Foods

Here’s another dollar store bonanza. If we keep getting gems like these, we’ll have to create a series: “Living and Dying on a Buck: Dollar Store Snacks”

There were a few flavors of these, but we were intrigued by hot sauce and kept saying the name “Onnnyoooohms” over and over in the car.

These were fucking gross. Upon opening the bag, we smelled lots of vinegar, like, a bottle’s worth of douche. Groooossss.

The Ooooonnnyoooohms- ‘scuse me, Onyums, were bright, bright red, like they were dipped in nuclear waste. They looked like they had a legitimately good Funyun style texture, but that was quickly unnoticeable when you ate them, because you were pummeled with the hottest, burning sensation. It was like eating pepper spray.

I might go back and try their other flavors, because they seemed like there was a good base to them. They were also the only snack food I’ve ever seen whose website sold snack seasoning in bulk.

Pro tip: It looks a bit like crack cocaine, only it tastes like sour cream and onion.

1/10- HORRID