Mountain Berry Punch Kool-Aid:
I'm not sure exactly when this most holy Kool-Aid flavor debuted, but in a rare case, the package actually features a clear date of origin: 1986. Mountain Berry Punch Kool-Aid is a true heavyweight. I've gotten more e-mails requesting this review than for any of the others left, and I'm torn between knowing why and not really knowing why. What's for sure is this: In terms of actual taste, Kool-Aid fans are generally quick to name Mountain Berry Punch their big wet savior in a glass. There's enough extracurricular ambiance to support a more psychological argument, but withstanding that, the shit just tastes good.
Presented as a heavenly mix of various berries, it's sort of like
Incrediberry's darker, brooding cousin. At the time of its debut, not very many Kool-Aid flavors packed a sense of bravado. This one did. Ambiguous name, ambiguously defined flavor and a television commercial where the Kool-Aid Man wore one of those funky Ricola hats. I think people are universally born with a love for berry things, even if it's sometimes a blind, unearned love. We see, smell or hear of berries, and we run to the source without question. I'm not saying that Mountain Berry Punch isn't deserving of its reputation, but at the same time, having drank it again with as unbiased a mind as a Kool-Aid connoisseur could have, I sadly report that it's not even in my top five.
The package art changed a few times through the years, but this version -- the original -- does the best job of making it seem like something that'd have your tongue bowing to the hand that fed it. Three times fast: Perspiration on pitcher pictures. It's something represented on much of the elder package art, but with Mountain Berry Punch, it's so palatably pronounced that I found myself chewing on the packet even after it was emptied. And I mean, really howling and lunging at the thing, teeth grating and all. That's a powerful picture of pitcher perspiration. In other news, the font used for the flavor name makes me want to fund a movie about chocolate angel bunnies on parade.
I've read a ton of Kool-Aid polls and rankings and other bullshit. Mountain Berry Punch is frequently named as the best tasting of the lot, but it's almost never on the list for best package art. My feelings are the vice versasized version of that. I'm not dying for another glass, but I've already Crayola-duplo'd the image above seven times since waking up this morning.
Finding it extremely hard to get a good picture for some reason, I inform you that the Kool-Aid's actually a lot brighter than what you're seeing suggests. It's very dark, yeah, but you can totally trace out sections of brighter reds among the bloodier purples. It's pretty, that's all I'm saying. It's also one of the most staining Kool-Aid flavors ever forged -- check out the
powder ring the pitcher got. One touch and your finger's history. Eighty showers are necessary to fully remove any skin stains, and you'd need super acid from Pluto to get the stuff off a kitchen counter.
Both in powder and punch forms, Mountain Berry Punch smells very much like grape flavored Bubblicious. If you've never smelled the gum, it's not reminiscent of grapes so much as stale cough syrup. Not really a bad thing, though. I felt empowered by the odor, as if I was Popeye in one of those less common episodes where he relies only on the animated scent of spinach to hulk up and kick Bluto's ass.
Now that I've made a Bluto reference, I'm tempted to go back and change the Pluto reference. Feels wrong to have both. Taste is subjective, and I appreciate that. We're allowed to disagree about Mountain Berry Punch. Sometimes, it's good for us to.
--
Matt
