Cream Soda

The Cream Soda is perhaps among the most bizarre and perplexing human inventions. I have only tasted that green-and-yellow canned one by Schweppes but I would suspect my experiences coincide with drinkers of other brands and variations too.

Cream is smooth, soda pops. They are like bouba and kiki, oil and water. I might read more on the invention of cream soda later but, for now, bear with me on what mistaken impression I fully flesh out below.

The first striking aspect of cream soda, even before you pull on the ring, is an interesting combination of green and yellow on the can. What do we think of when we hear cream? Icing on cakes? Buttercream? Maybe even cream pies. Anyway, we know that it’s often used to make mellow-tasting foods. When we think of soft drinks, we think of Coke and Pepsi, or Dr Pepper if you are ‘Murican. The bright red and deep blue seem to be more prominent than this green-and-yellow combo. It just pops and conducts a forced search into your eyeballs without a warrant. The intelligent reader might realise that Sprite is also green-and-yellow. Indeed, it is also a transparent and a lighter drink than the dark syrupy stuff you get otherwise. You go in with a expectation of light sweetness: about the only thing common with both cream and green-and-yellow soda.

Oh sweet it is! Just as you hear the sharp crack when you pull on the ring, the overbearing sweet aroma slams you right in the face. Too sweet maybe. You look into the can and see the piss-coloured carbonated liquid and wonder why the hell you bought this instead of good old coke. You take a drink and still think that you are going to get diabetes from this. Where is the cream? You don’t know, but you can’t help but take another swig to attempt at grasping the sophisticated flavour, how ever impossible it may seem. There used to be vanilla flavoured Coca Cola when I was small. The first time I bought it, I spit it out. Oh god it was awful, yet I kept coming back to it over and over again. Again, the complex flavours overwhelmed me as a kid. I suppose curiosity kills the cat, or in this case, the desire to decipher the alien taste of vanilla-flavoured coke kills me. It was something truly different, and I hate it. I suppose cream soda is reminiscent of this atrocity but actually mildly pleasant. The creaminess is in both the taste and the smell, but thank god it didn’t penetrate into the texture. The foaminess was what really turned me off vanilla coke now that I think about it. The perfect refreshing crispness was still locked inside the liquid, escaping as we speak. After all, that is about the only reason we drink soda.

Of course, you take another sip. This time it was pure sugar, as is with other fizzy drinks once you taste it in minimal amounts and got used to the fragrance. Again you start doubting your choice on trying something novel. You walk closer to the trash can unconsciously. Cream soda, what an oxymoron.

Sigh, let’s take another swig and just get this done with. You empty the can, miss your shot, and saunter to the trash can to pick up your can and throw it properly this time. The next time you choose your drink, maybe you won’t give it more than a moment of thought, but those moments add up, and a few months down, the green-and-yellow can pops to you ever so seductively.