It smells great - convincingly, naturally cranberry. What a concept! (Courtesy Heather Martin) Touring the ruins of Pompeii in a Christmas-themed hazmat suit. Suggested pairings: Icelandic fermented shark (aka hákarl). Notes of warm spices, clotted cream, blight. I absolutely loathe each component of this flavor individually as well as their effect as a whole. Like the myriad layers of this flavor, my hate is many splendored, faceted like a haunted gem, every aspect its own universe of dislike. It creases and thrashes, billowing the fumes of humankind’s hubris, oozing the pyroclastic flow of our fatal drive to boldly go where no one has gone before. One sip unfolds again and again, roiling into infinity like an Escher origami, never resolving into a sailboat or peace crane. My (by this point) long-suffering husband said, "It keeps on blooming, like a volcanic eruption," and I understood just what he meant. In a split second, it careens through the hills of artificial vanilla, into the valley of soured nondairy creamer, across the vast wasteland of nutmeg murk. This is Bud Light's most complex flavor to date, and it’s clear a lot of work went into it. I'm pretty flexible on what I find nog-ceptable, but the first sip totally nailed me to the wall. Seltzer Nog: A painful eruption of flavor. On the plus side, as a tabula rasa liquified, it won't conflict with what you are eating, no matter what it is. The only fleeting joy is in the realization of the void. Does flavor even exist? Who can tell? We're all just hurtling through space in a macabre parody of life, bereft of meaning. This is the Werner Herzog documentary of hard seltzers, and you'll soon be muttering to yourself, disoriented. The flavor, similarly inscrutable: Is that cherry? Berry? That's not what plums taste like, is it? Best to chug it so that the nothing doesn't have a chance to give way to Bud Light's signature alkaline finish. It has very little smell, and what is there is unidentifiable, most reminiscent of scented markers. Blank-faced, stoic and directionless, it sits like a stone on the side of the road. It's the rare beverage that says nothing, but somehow Sugar Plum is in this category. Others are more subtle about it: Coffee puts an encouraging arm around you at work iced tea just wants to help you relax on a sunny summer afternoon. Some beverages just scream optimism, you know? Orange juice. Suggested pairing: Any cookie, especially a gingersnap, will smooth out the rough spots without succumbing to the carob. I have to admit it's perversely entertaining, like a sketchy carnival’s funhouse mirror. You had a fun but questionable friend in college who would love this flavor. Instead of cherry, chocolate, vanilla and kirsch liqueur, it's more like maraschino, carob, marshmallow and ethanol. The flavor of this seltzer isn't as immersive as the smell, mercifully. After a couple of days, the alcohol inside turns the fondant layer into vanilla goo. In case you haven’t had the pleasure, this unfortunate sweet is a candied cherry soaked in liqueur, wrapped in a thin layer of fondant and covered in chocolate. They aren’t as ubiquitous as they once were around the holidays, probably because they’re disgusting. Instead, in a remarkable achievement in aroma technology, it smells precisely like being actually inside a cherry cordial. Buckle up! Cherry Cordialīecause I never learn, I thought this one was a cute seasonal name for plain cherry seltzer, which I often love. At least, that’s what I’m going to be repeating to myself as we taste these. Surely this is a wink and a nod, right? Everyone loves ugly sweaters at parties, but nobody wears them around the house unless they’re in on the joke. This time, I think the name and package design are spot-on: retro kitsch, fun metallic colors, knitted-stitch graphics. Each has 100 calories and is 5% alcohol by volume. There are three flavors with stevia and one, Cranberry, that’s naturally flavored and without zero-calorie sweeteners. Like the fall assortment, this box is priced at $15-17 for a dozen 12-ounce cans. Now that I've recovered from round one, I'm ready to tackle the wintertime offering. I sure did enjoy hating it, though, and I was thrilled to hear about this new collection. Perhaps some of you read my review of Bud Light Seltzer's Fall Flannel Pack earlier this year. It’s updated with four festively nihilist flavors: Cherry Cordial, Sugar Plum, Seltzer Nog(!) and Cranberry. Having a little trouble getting into the holiday spirit? Is it just not Christmas until you’ve engaged in a few Yuletide activities requiring poor judgment and bad fashion? Back by popular demand, Bud Light is here to get you ready for the season with its Ugly Sweater Pack of hard seltzers.
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