Americana Root Beer
12 fl. oz.
glass bottle
Orca Beverage Co., Mukilteo, WA
cold, no ice

If you notice that there have been a lot of root beers so far in the Summer of Soda, it's because I (MG) do not put caffeine inside what I like to call "the temple." Oh, I want to, God how I want to, especially in the form of the hard stuff, Coca-Cola Classic. But I am already high strung enough, so I have to satisfy my dark soda cravings with root beer. (Kate, on the other hand, consumes caffeine with relish, and will be tester/taster for caffeinated entries like pure cane sugar Coke from Mexico and Cheerwine.)

Americana is a fine root beer, whether or not it's a stand in for "the hard stuff." It's got a very vanilla-y smell, and a good head. It's quite dark, almost black. Kate loved it, saying, "Even the belches tasted good." I was less satisfied, detecting a slight bitterness in the aftertaste. But that's a quibble. I think I prefer Fitz's, because I value creaminess over complexity of flavor. Or maybe I'm just a homer.

Final verdict: A good, solid root beer, worth seeking out and drinking whenever you can.

KP: 8 of 10
MG: 7 of 10

A.J. Stephans' Raspberry Lime Rickey
12 fl. oz.
glass bottle
A.J. Stephans, Boston, MA
cold, no ice

There are some sodas that win your heart as much by what they remind you of as how they taste. For Kate, A.J. Stephans' Raspberry Lime Rickey is one of those sodas. To her, it conjures up memories of her Chicago girlhood, specifically a drink they used to serve at Marshall Field's department store called "raspberry juice."

I, on the other hand, am never one to let my own memories cloud my palate (Fitz's Root Beer). Yet I too was charmed by A.J. Stephans' Raspberry Lime Rickey. For one thing, it's very raspberry-ey. When you open a bottle, you feel as if somebody has jammed two raspberries up your nostrils (but in a good way). Drinking it is similarly satisfying. Pure cane sugar really does seem to make a difference. The lime is there, too, but it's subtle--it sneaks up on you, during the carbonated back-kick. Kate, never one for the clumsy or cloying when it comes to food, declared without shame, "I wish it were even more flavored than it is."

Final verdict: Very good. Until Marshall Field's brings back their "raspberry juice," this'll do.

KP: 7 of 10
MG: 6 of 10

Empire Spruce Beer
12 fl. oz.
glass bottle
Empire Bottling Works, Bristol, RI
cold, no ice

Okay, I so wanted to like this. It's just the kind of thing that I love--strange, regional, obviously someone's passion.

Unfortunately, I didn't. I couldn't even finish a small glass. Kate hated it even worse. She took one sip and bailed. "Christmas tree water," she said.

"Maybe our cats would like it," I offered. From December 15th to January 15th, none of the little furry freeloaders who live with us drink out of their water dish, preferring the sap-loaded, needle-riden Christmas tree water instead. "At least drinking Spruce Beer isn't a fire hazard." That was cold comfort for Kate. "It tastes like something you'd drink to keep from pooping."

She's right; Empire Spruce Beer tastes like Pepto-Bismol. But surely some people like that flavor, and if you do, I encourage you to seek out this beverage. Because it is strange, regional, obviously someone's passion. In this day and age, that's something to celebrate. Even if it is grody.

Final verdict: It's weird, and you'll probably hate it. But then again, Spruce Beer is exactly, unashamedly what it claims to be--a drink that tastes like beer brewed from Christmas trees. So try it--it's Pepto-riffic!

KP: 1 of 10
MG: 2 of 10

Thomas Kemper's Ginger Ale
12 fl. oz.
glass bottle
Thomas Kemper Sodas, Seattle, WA
cold, no ice

I want to start off by saying how much I like Thomas Kemper sodas. I like their root beer, which is served at a restaurant down the street. I especially like their black cherry soda, which I've had several times as well. And both Kate and I are great fans of ginger ale. So it is with great surprise, and not a little sadness, that I must tell you that, in our opinion, Thomas Kemper Ginger Ale BLOWS.

The word that Kate used was "soapy." This is not a word you want associated with a beverage. The word I--always polite--came up with was "botanical." Whatever you call it, it added up to a soda we liked less than your garden-variety Canada Dry. Batch-brewed crap is still crap.

What went wrong? Is there such a thing as too much pure Jamaican ginger extract? Could it be the high fructose corn syrup? TKGA gave me the ol' Vernor's cough--I assume that's ginger fumes attacking the back of my throat--but utterly failed to deliver. It was neither hardcore like a ginger beer, nor brisk and snappy like common ginger ales such as Canada Dry. It was simply weak. Thoroughly, thoroughly disappointing--there is no point to this soda. Thomas--Tom--get your act together and make a ginger ale worthy of your other sodas.

Final verdict: Don't bother. Thomas Kemper's retarded child that they keep in the attic and nobody talks about. Is that too harsh? Who cares, I want my $1.89 back.

KP: 3 of 10
MG: 2 of 10

Hank's Orange Soda
12 fl. oz.
glass bottle
Hank's Root Beer Co., Philadelphia, PA
cold, no ice

The modern world is busier than ever, so much so that no one has time for introductory sentences like this one. So I'll get right down to it: Hank's is a fine little orange soda. Not sublime--it lacks creaminess, for one thing--but it's far from something you'd throw at a raccoon. It also is the only orange soda I've ever encountered with "orange juice concentrate" listed as an ingredient. This may or may not help the flavor, but certainly gives kids a leg to stand on when begging their mothers to buy it. "Come on, Ma! It's got real orange juice in it!"

I say that Hank's Orange is basically McDonald's Orange Drink, but with carbonation. Kate disagrees, saying that's too harsh--but I like McDonald's Orange Drink. Hank's is tangy, but not chemical-harsh; it's sweet, but not a tongue shriveller. It has that licking-a-pinecone taste common to a lot of orange soda (could it be the ingredient called "ester of wood rosin"?), but not to an overpowering degree.

"I could drink another without complaint," Kate said. "Yes, but would you?" I asked. She paused, then said, "I guess I'm just not a big fan of orange soda." Friends, if you want to know what your spouse is really like--who you really married--serve them a Hank's. It's like a truth serum. (I looked for "truth serum" on the ingredients list but couldn't find it. Bush has really gutted the FDA.)

Final verdict: This nice little soda is the exact shade of my buddy Hank's hair. Coincidence? The world just doesn't work like that, friend.

KP: 6 of 10
MG: 6 of 10

Milca Red Soda Pop
12 fl. oz.
aluminum can
Milca Bottling Co., Miami, FL
cold, no ice

Michael took one sip and lost all ability to continue. Pffft. Amateur. So it falls to me to soldier on.

The label on the can says it all: Soda Roja/Red Soda Pop. Not cherry, not strawberry, not watermelon. Red. The nose is pungently chemical, like all the falsest notes of Starburst cherry and strawberry, blended into a thin, artificial vapor. As a drink, it's pretty much without a single redeeming quality. It's a garish laboratory potion red, it packs a violently fizzy punch and it tastes ... red.

The only positive attribute is a certain nostalgic quality--Milca Red Soda Pop is composed of the same chemical pastiche as the Official Summer Drink of the Powers family, Faygo Red Pop. Which, in its way, is one of the inspirations behind the Summer of Soda. Like most moms, mine believes in dosing small children with massive amounts of milk. But we spent our summers in rural southwestern Michigan, far from the weekly milk deliveries of Chicago, or even a convenient grocery store. So for three months every year, we were allowed to drink soda with dinner, so the two gallons of milk in the fridge would last from Saturday to Saturday.

By the way, I checked Galco's shelves thoroughly, and I'm sorry to say that there will be no reviews of Faygo brand Red Pop, or the oddly named Rock 'n Rye, or any other flavors, unless a Powers sibling decides to submit a review of their own.



Final verdict: "'Soda Roja' is Spanish for 'soda that freakin' blows'"--MG

KP: 0 of 10
MG: Conscientious Objector

Fitz's Root Beer
12 fl. oz.
glass bottle
Fitz's, University City, MO
cold, no ice

I grew up in St. Louis--Clayton, U. City, and the Central West End--and Fitz's Root Beer is brewed in the heart of my old stomping grounds. In fact, it's just down the street from one of my favorite movie houses in the world, the Tivoli; the Tivoli was where I first saw many of my favorite movies (and where I probably got my first contact high to boot!). So I admit, I was predisposed to like Fitz's. Take that into account when I say that Kate and I loved this root beer.

It's extremely smooth and creamy. Its dominant flavor (and scent) is sarsparilla--at least that's what we thought it was. It wasn't licorice (thank God! I'm still having nightmares about Red Ribbon), or honey, or vanilla. Anyway, it was very pleasant. The color was also nice--a dark, carmelly gold.

There wasn't much of a head, but we'd made the mistake of pouring it into glasses that were still warm from the dishwasher. I drank my glass quickly it was so yummy, and Kate wasn't far behind. I look forward to comparing Fitz's to my old Chicago favorite (actually brewed in Milwaukee, I believe) Sprecher's. Two root beers will enter, but only one will leave.

Final verdict: Creamy, smooth, and pleasantly root-y--really good.

KP: 7 of 10
MG: 7 of 10