Unsolicited Food Review: Cosmopolitan Vodka Popsicle

Alright. I’m gonna level with you. I had a drink before I started writing this review. I have a low tolerance for alcohol, and now I am being affected by the alcohol. However! The show must go on! Hemingway wrote when he was totally blasted, right? If he can do it, I can soldier through this mild inebriation. Probably.

How does one acquire a vodka popsicle? Well, I got it when I was with my pal at Total Wine the other day. Now, I’m a fan of Total Wine for several reasons. They’ve got a lot of variety, they’ve got expensive birthday cards, and they’ve got weird shit near the front counter that I like to peruse. While my friend was buying the ingredients for a proper Cosmopolitan cocktail, I was admiring what appeared to be the kind of popsicles they used to give us in grade school. You know the ones- the ones where it’s just a plastic tube with some colored sugar ice. The only difference? These beauties have alcohol in them.

Before I rip into this frozen Cosmopolitan, I’d like to share my thoughts on the product’s packaging. First of all, I think branding this as a “skinny” freezer is a pretty obvious clue that this company wants to market to people who are or want to be skinny. They’re taking their chunk of that sweet, sweet diet culture money, and I’m not sure how ethical that is, considering how damaging diet culture is to Americans of all genders. A little social critique in this supposedly humorous food review? You’re welcome.

The ingredient list on the front of the package is quite helpful, as it gives me an excuse to pad this post’s length. The full list is as follows: “Vodka with a splash of Vermouth, natural flavors, artificial sweeteners, FD&C Red #40 and cochineal extract.” The natural flavors and artificial sweeteners should give the ingredient purist pause, as this product was clearly created in some sort of laboratory. Perhaps there was even a mad scientist with crazy hair and a dress with fun little equations on it. I can dream,

Wondering what the history of Red #40 was all about, I did a quick Google search. THIS SHIT COMES FROM “PETROLEUM DISTILLATES AND COAL TARS!” It also caused tumors in the respiratory systems of mice. Maybe I should have reviewed a different color popsicle. Maybe I should see a doctor too. Why am I coughing so much? Is this the end of Merry Jane Writes? (cough) Please… (cough) subscribe… So I can put my subscription count… on my tombstone….

Anyway, cochineal extract comes from a bug that looks like this.

Everything is fine. It’s fine.

When viewing the back of the product’s packaging, I noticed some text meant to further sell the popsicle: “Finally, a low-calorie frozen treat, for adults, that won’t hit your waistline. It CAN however hit the Poolside, Beachside, Barside, and Grillside!” First of all, if you want a low calorie frozen treat for adults, grow the fuck up and freeze a Go-Gurt like the rest of us. Go-Gurt: The Snack for All Ages. (Not sponsored) Second of all… Barside? You’re telling me that I should go to a bar, not order anything, and instead eat a popsicle that I brought? I’m not dignifying this idea with further response.

The text continues with “Made with premium 8-times distilled, charcoal filtered Vodka, this medley of Martini flavors will delight your palette!” These popsicle makers are trying to bamboozle me! They’re trying to trick me into thinking that they didn’t pour in some bottom shelf shit into these plastic pouches. You don’t use the good stuff for an artificially sweetened bug colored popsicle. You just don’t.

I also just found out that the company that makes these popsicles is called Slim Chillers. Is that more of a rap name or a jazz band full of middle-aged white men name? Leave a comment below with your vote.

Now that I’ve rambled for a while, I think it’s time to open this popsicle up. The problem? There’s no goddamn perforated “Tear Here” area at either end of the product. These people want me to use scissors? Do they think I’m some kind of nostalgic freak? We’re living in the 21st century, for God’s sake. Perforate your goddamn packaging!

For scientific purposes, I’m going to once again rely on my five senses to rate this frozen libation.

Sight? It looks like any run-of-the-mill red slushie. Is it important that I think blue slushies are better than red ones? Perhaps.

Sound? The ice is a bit crunchy, as one would expect. Don’t make me hold your hand through this.

Touch? It’s, uh, cold.

What’s the fourth sense? Smell? It smells like cheap vodka that got mixed together with the entirety of the JC Penny perfume department.

Taste? The most important sense there is when it comes to rating food and drink? You want to know what the Cosmopolitan Vodka Martini Skinny Freezer tastes like? I’m not sure if you’re ready. I’m not sure you’ve earned it. Have you dropped by my other posts? Given them a like or two? Are you even subscribed? If not, come back when you are, you absolute scrub.

Taste: Ah fuck, I let the popsicle melt while you I was waiting on you. It should still taste the same, so I’m not worried. The flavor of this popsicle can best be described as “B- Cosmopolitan that you’ll drink solely for the purpose of getting drunk.” It’s definitely sweet, but chemically so. The alcohol flavoring is there, but it isn’t overpowering. All in all, this alcoholic popsicle is alright. Is it good enough to make me forget the packaging’s contribution to a harmful American diet culture that capitalizes people’s insecurities? No.

Now that I’m finishing a blog post while mildly buzzed on a Monday night, I know what being a freshly graduated liberal arts student is like. Cheers!

Cosmopolitan Vodka Martini Skinny Freezer: seven out of ten.

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