anywhereisbetter

Update: See the NYPost article on Pop Rocks and applesauce.

Let’s get this straight- I’ve eaten some strange things in my life. As members of what seems to be a cult of adolescence, my friends and I share a certain proclivity for daring one another to eat various concoctions. We’ve combined chocolate sauce with veggie burgers, hostess cakes with regular cakes, and ice cream with Lucky Charms. Always up for a challenge, we’ve had chocolate shots for breakfast, peanut butter and chocolate pudding, and our newest pride and joy, the “Manchos,” a mountain of macho nachos so enormous that it can only be built on a full-sized cookie sheet. To use the words of Tom Waits, I might consider myself a pioneer of the palete.

Now, allow me to tell you about our latest adventure in gastronomy- Pop Rocks and Applesauce. No, this isn’t something we though of ourselves (though I wish we had), this is a product actually being marketed by Mott’s. Was getting kids to eat applesauce that difficult? Was the entire team in charge of new products participating in “Bring Your Crack to Work Day?” No, this was a challenge- a smarmy, grinning marketer just daring you, the consumer, to buy this fucking product. The gauntlet had been thrown down, and I wasn’t about to back away. Defiantly, I snatched up a four-pack of the stuff post-haste.

And so it goes. On a sunny Saturday morning, my roommates and I stood over the modest containers, strangely intimidated by the little packet of Pop Rocks attached to the applesauce’s foil seal. The flashy packaging taunted us with two delicious flavors- strawberry kiwi and “mystery fruit.” Which to choose? Are you ready? Can you handle the “mystery fruit?” I chose strawberry kiwi.

Closely following instructions, I apprehensively tore open my little packet and dumped its contents into the applesauce. I stirred the two elements together, and the familiar sound of carbonated sugar pebbles began to emanate from the new concoction. As the awful little bits worked their way throughout, the applesauce took on an intimidatingly pink hue, popping and hissing like some horrible creature smelling of real apples and fake strawberries. My roommates stared wide-eyed at the spoonful of talking pink applesauce positioned before me, and I again felt the cold stare of the marketer imploring me to try and digest this abomination. I stood my ground, plunging the spoon into my mouth.

What comes after this is difficult to explain. Being sure to savor the experience–to truly appreciate this affront to the senses–I was slow to swallow. The sensation was almost ineffable, like eating some food equivalent to Vapo-Rub, but with the taste of a failed Jolly Rancher flavor. I was confused, disoriented. I didn’t know what to do, so I laughed. I laughed so hard that I it was difficult to swallow. But swallowing was victory- a victory over the marketing team that dared to challenge my commitment. I had won; I had eaten their inedible invention. I’d done better than that- I had finished my entire container. Emboldened by my experience, Jon and JR followed suit.

Ten minutes later, as the three of us sat slothfully basking in the glorious afterglow of our triumph, one by one we began to feel a rumbling. The Pop Rocks weren’t yet finished with us. We may have bested them, but they were going down fighting. For hours, these brave warriors battled on, ensuring a low-grade nausea that stayed with us for the better part of the day. It seems that our victory was not without a price.

All of this is to say don’t get the new Pop Rocks and Apple Sauce. Eating it isn’t as funny as you might think.