Well, evidently I was wrong when I said I’d never get free stuff from PR people again.
Photo credit: Dave’s Cupboard
Yet again, like a bazillion other food bloggers, I also got POM’s two new flavors — POM Nectarine and POM Kiwi — in the mail. And in this second go-round of product placement, I think I’ve discovered something rather important:
I don’t actually like pomegranate juice.
I like fresh pomegranates. And I like pomegranate juice when it’s mixed with something else, like POM tea. (Oh man, remember when the POM tea used to come in that completely impractical glass? I had like, 20 of those glasses.) But just the juice… no. It’s too astringent, too mouth-puckery drying for me.
With that in mind, I have to admit, I genuinely enjoyed the POM Nectarine flavor. It tasted like pomegranate, but the sweetness of the nectarine juice made it softer and… juicier. After drinking it, I actually felt less thirsty, as opposed to the blech-now-I-have-no-saliva feeling of straight pomegranate juice.
Sadly, POM Kiwi was a bust. The kiwi flavor, what little there was of it, tasted unripe and sour — not a good match for the already sour pomegranate.
If you’re keeping score thus far:
regular POM juice – horrible
POM Kiwi – not good
POM Nectarine – actually kind of good
So… POM .333 Wonderful: Hey, If This Was Baseball, That’s Like Almost As Good As Lou Gehrig
There better be a front-runner for the nominee soon…
Because at this rate, I may forget how to cook.
Super Tuesday! Can’t cook on Super Tuesday! Not when there’s blogs to read and the Georgia results come in at 7pm!
Then I had a 1000-word piece to submit for class Wednesday — a piece no one seemed to especially like, so that kind of sucked. Dinner that night: sympathy cheeseburgers.
Thursday was Museum Day — after which an Obama-supporting waitress spotted my husband’s sticker and slipped us free cake, to which I say: damn, bring the revolution if there’s gonna be free cake, yo!
Friday was Chinatown where I bought this:
Hell if I know what a honeymansi is, but refreshing? Check. Exciting? Well, I guess. It is fruity and delightful, I’ll give it that.
Saturday was a morning of four hours of incredibly intense French — like someone flipped open the top of my head, dumped a basketful of French in, shoved it around to fit, threw some more in on top of that, then sat on my head until it was closed enough to latch shut.
Then, more primary results that afternoon and again Sunday.
Yesterday, I stared into space a lot, tried to remember when to use y or en in the passé composé, stared into space some more, tried to Google honeymansi.
And now today is Super Chesapeake Crabcake Tuesday or something.
Is it November yet?