Pink Lemonade Kool-Aid:
I've always been a sour-faced sucker for pink lemonade -- and not just the actual drink, but pink lemonade-flavored anything. You could serve me chewed monkey ass: Say it's pink lemonade monkey ass, and I'm digging right in. There isn't a person alive who doesn't enjoy a tall cup of lemonade, but when you pinkify it, something happens. Something magical and mystical that we really shouldn't try to understand, because if it's all explained away by a shift in balance from food dye Yellow 3 to food dye Red 7, we'll have no wishes or wonders left in our souls. Let it remain mysterious -- it's better that way.
Course, I'm going totally contradict myself and tell you exactly what the "pink" stands for: GRAPES. In most cases, the special agents that turn lemonade into something pinker and not quite lemonade are, in fact, just grapes. Obviously, the transformation in color only has to do with artificial coloring, but if you've tried lemonade and pink lemonade, you know the flavors are not one in the same. There's something different about the latter -- something sweeter, something infinitely more brilliant. It's grapes. I wish it was something more exciting, but I refuse to lie unless I stand to gain something from it: It's just grapes.
The folks at Kool-Aid were in an awkward position this time around. On one hand, they
had to make Pink Lemonade Kool-Aid, because you can't leave such a widely accepted fake flavor out of the very series that
redefined fake flavors. On the other hand, pink lemonade is always best served from people like Minute Maid or Five Alive -- chilled, ultra settled and ready to go. As I write this, I've yet to do the taste test, but I just can't imagine Pink Lemonade Kool-Aid possibly being better than those already-prepared varieties. Every time I introduce self-prepared pink lemonade to my system, my system gives a vehement thumbs down. The process of making pink lemonade is best left to the professionals. It's kind of like putting out fires or taunting lions with raw meat in that regard.
Still, Kool-Aid made the right choice with the packet art, featuring the Kool-Aid Man proudly leaning against the fruit that CANNOT exist: A pink lemon. Now, think back. When you're a kid, there's nothing in your brain telling you that pink lemons CANNOT exist. You just think you haven't seen 'em. And since pink lemons are unquestionably one of the most alluring images yet conceived, you're fully roped in to the point where not finding out what they taste like would be like not holding out your hands if it was raining money. I wish I could come up with a better comparison, but I'm too fascinated by pink lemons to be any good at this right now.
Now that I've tasted it, I'm happy to report that Pink Lemonade Kool-Aid does not, in any way, shape or form, disappoint. It's the right color, and in some ways it's even better than the carton-carried stuff -- namely because there isn't any of that nasty bottom-feeding sediment that so often ruins mouth-hosted paradises.
I guess it's best described as a very "clean" pink lemonade. Light, not too sweet, not too tart -- not too much of
anything, but it's dang good. One small caveat: Don't go overboard with the sugar. Add too much (or even the instructed amount), and it's crap. You can get away with just a few spoonfuls as opposed to the traditional full cup (if you've never seen the amount of sugar that goes into a pitcher of Kool-Aid, it's pretty freakishly substantial), and if you're feeling particularly adventurous, adding a squeeze of real lemon heightens the flavor in ways your tongue could not possibly imagine until it's been experienced.
--
Matt
