As evidenced by my less-than-favorable foray into the world of caffeinated Snickers Bars, my curiosity often gets the better of my good sense (and taste). A formerly trusted relative (who shall remain nameless, but rhymes with ‘nom’) decided to take advantage of that same curiosity by having me
meat-shield taste-test the new beverage concoction ‘A&W Float‘, which advertises itself as ‘A Creamy Blend of Rich A&W and Ice Cream Flavors‘. Well, that just screams for a try, doesn’t it?
I should have realized that the complete lack of the phrase ‘root beer’ on the bottle was a clue to what lay inside, but that thought didn’t occur to me before twisting off the old-school bottle cap. Any chance for reflection was lost as apparently the nitrous oxide charged 2% milk foam had been waiting for just this moment to escape and spread itself upon my kitchen floor.
Of course like an idiot I did what I always do, and took a deep drink.
Imagine, if you will, a root beer flavored Dum Dum left to melt in the sun on a New Orleans sidewalk. Now to that sugary sludge add some carbonated 2% milk along with a chemical list that reads like a how-to guide for dissolving crude oil from a coastal goose’s feathers. I’m saddened to say that not only does the A&W Float meet that mark of awful, but it blows past it in a desperate race for ‘taste that will haunt my dreams’.
As a great man once said: “There’s a party in my mouth, and everyone’s throwing up!”
My last mistake would be pouring the remainder of said foul liquid into a glass, as A&W undoubtedly knew that consumers might otherwise be turned off by the turgid stuffs similarity to the appealing brew left over when cleaning a taupe paint covered brush.
So to A&W I ask ‘Why? Oh, god…why?’, a question I’ll be asking of myself for as long as it takes for the taste to leave my memory.