No sir, I don’t lychee it: Yeo’s Lychee Drink

Yeo’s Lychee Drink. Note that it’s not soda. It’s not juice. Nor is it a cocktail, elixir, potable, libation or tonic. It’s a drink, period. Beyond that, this Yeo character isn’t letting on. The can does boast that it’s an “Authentic Asian Drink,” so at least we know it wasn’t made by a bunch of Australian poseurs or something.

I’ve never eaten a lychee. I’m not even sure how to pronounce it. Frankly, I don’t want to know. What I do know is I felt like I was drinking a can of strawberry soda after leaving it open on the back porch overnight. I’m aware this drink isn’t carbonated. Yeo’s apparently isn’t aware that it should be. Gulping Lychee Drink is like mainlining the syrup they pour on a Hawaiian ice.

The Verdict

Yeo’s Lychee Drink gets a 3 out of 10, which is dangerously close to Diet Coke territory. Strangely enough, I’ve got a feeling combining the two would yield something tastier than the sum of its parts – not that that’s any real achievement, though.

A Far East Take on an Old West Drink: Hey-Song Sarsaparilla Drink

I grew up near Sioux City, Iowa, known for plane crashes, meat packing, and the sarsaparilla that bears its name. A good sarsaparilla is a tasty change-of-pace beverage, as fun to drink as it isn’t to type. But aside from lawmen in westerns, who drinks sarsaparilla anymore? Where can you even find it?

Apparently you have to go to the soft drink craftsmen of Asia. Hey-Song Sarsaparilla Drink is a, shall I say, interesting take on this olde thyme phosphate from Taiwan’s most olde thyme soda company. Just like Cheap Trick had to make Live at Budokan before they hit it big in the states, perhaps sarsaparilla’s sojourn to the Orient is a precursor to it overtaking cola as America’s soft drink of record. More likely, Hey-Song is a shining example of why sarsaparilla had to be exiled in the first place.

A Dental Fiasco

Of all the sodas from the far east, I figured Hey-Song Sarsaparilla Drink would be a pretty safe choice. I also assumed a drink loaded with sugar wouldn’t remind me of the dentist’s office. But Hey-Song disappointed me on both counts by mixing sarsaparilla’s traditional root beer taste with the cleansing flavor of Crest mint mouthwash. Only communists could make a beverage that destroyed your teeth while tricking your brain into thinking they were getting a fluoride bath. That’s like sitting through an entire NASCAR race and not seeing a single crash.

Recycling: The Final Solution

This has nothing to do with the taste, but I must point out the unfortunate Taiwanese recycling symbol. Somehow, doing a good thing for the earth isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.

The Verdict

Well, pardner, Hey-Song Sarsaparilla Drink gets a 4 out of 10. The best I can say about it is its Listerine aftertaste reminded me to brush the hell out of my teeth after I finished.

A Recent Expedition Bears Strange Fruit

As the Soda Jerk, I scour the globe to find the most exotic flavors of sugar water available. My most recent excursion took me into the heart of the Orient, by which I mean the Silver Wok grocery store in Chapel Hill. With a bevy of strange containers before me, I returned with the four soft drinks you see before you. I omitted the fifth can I purchased once I realized I’d accidentally bought coconut milk.

Stay tuned for the exciting details of these astonishing elixirs!

Diet Pepsi Max

Ginseng! More Caffeine! Max! The folks who cooked up Diet Pepsi Max would have you believe it packs so much punch, Coca-Cola will have to reinsert cocaine into its secret recipe to keep up. With its alleged extra juice and lack of teeth-destroying sugar, I decided to give it a shot. Here are my thoughts on the total soda experience, which includes…

The Hype

First off, I love the Pepsi Max TV spots where the Dallas Cowboys’ groggy offensive coordinator botches the play call. The ensuing confusion allows the New York Football Giants to crush QB Tony Romo, just like Jessica Simpson will break his tender heart when she ditches him after the Cowboys get knocked out of the playoffs.

Cowboys owner Jerry Jones is either a really good sport, or is totally cool with the public perceiving him as a meddling jerk. He swipes the hapless play-caller’s headset in exchange for twenty ounces of Pepsi’s newest concoction, which they’ll have you believe will give you the energy needed to coach Tony Romo through his impending playoff choke job. Once I saw that, I was hooked.

The Effect

I signed up for an 8 a.m. class. As on all college campuses, finding a parking spot is like looking for a five-leaf clover in the desert, so I had to get up early to take the bus. If that situation doesn’t call for extra caffeine, nothing does.

The font on the label looks kinda like the THX sound demo. I really noticed this when, after about twenty minutes, all that ginseng and caffeine made a similar whooshing noise in my skull.

The soda did its job. I wasn’t just awake. I was so keyed up the molecules in my body almost vibrate fast enough form me to walk through walls. Or just smash through them. Seriously, the entire class all I could think was, Why am I sitting here when I could be out there fighting crime?!?

The Taste

The fact that I’ve prattled on for five paragraphs about everything from TV commercials to believing I was the Incredible Hulk without once mentioning the flavor should tell you all you need to know. Diet Pepsi Max doesn’t taste bad. But if I was just worried about taste I could get the same thing from Diet Harris Teeter. And that’s two liter’s worth for eighty-nine cents, no less.

The Verdict

On a scale where Coca-Cola is a 10 and Diet Coke is a 1, I’d give Diet Pepsi Max a 6. The taste deserves only a 5, but in the end I bumped it up. It’s not every drink that gives me the strength to lift a Hyundai Accent over my head.