Renowned marketer Seth Godin coined the phrase: meatball sundae. It’s two perfectly good ideas that produce unfortunate results. Like when George Costanza tries to mix pastrami with foreplay.
Which brings us to another cured meat, bacon, and its curious liaison with vodka. More specifically, Bakon Vodka.
Yeah, it’s a real thing. A bacon-flavored vodka, and it’s a classic example of a meatball sundae.
This is a stunt vodka is what it is. It serves no purpose other than to elicit a chuckle at a party (“They done put bacon in vodka, that’s CRAZY!”) or to be trafficked as a gag gift (how I obtained mine). There’s simply no reason for it.
And yet, it’s bacon. So it can’t not to be talked about.
Start with the smell. I usually don’t give a fig about a vodka’s “nose.” But you want bacon-anything to smell like bacon. And this smells like bakon (sic). Despite the claim by the Beverage Tasting Institute (more on these charlatans later) that is has “convincing aromas of fatty smoked maple bacon,” to me it smacked of Bac-Os Bits. Actually, that might be too harsh. On Bac-Os Bits.
But how does it taste?
I started by taking a sip neat. Terrible. Again, Bac-Os Bits. If Betty Crocker made a vodka, this would be it.
But I withheld judgment. I figured Bakon is a mixer and might actually work well in a bloody Mary. In other words, I fell for the more is more fallacy. That the meatball sundae will redeem itself as a ménage with, say, a nice piece of fish. Like when Constanza decides to watch some tube while eating his pastrami and doing whatever he was supposed to be doing with his lady friend.
With hope in my heart, I made a bloody Mary. Took a slow, expectant sip. Waited for the flavors to wash over my palate. And the damned thing tasted like Bac-Os Bits. Actually, worse. The alchemy I thought might bring out a smoky, savory essence with help of some salty, peppery tomato juice didn’t happen. It was just as ghastly as it was straight.
Critical acclaim, seriously
I would stop there, but I have to address Bakon’s “critical acclaim.” If you head to their website, you’ll see they have the gall to beat their chest about all the medals they apparently won. Which calls into question the legitimacy of organizations that award such baubles and assign ratings to spirits.
Take the aforementioned Beverage Tasting Institute. Aside from their suspect sense of smell, they give Bakon a 92 rating. To put that in perspective, that is the same rating they give the clearly superior Pravada and Stolichnaya. Also given a 92 is Zubrówka—which is among the worst vodkas I’ve ever tasted—and Pinnacle Whipped Cream Vodka.
Now, I’m about to commit the cardinal sin of the critic and review Pinnacle Whipped Cream Vodka without ever having tried it. And I’m going to do it in two words: meatball sundae.
Obviously, Bakon and BTI were made for each other.
Oh and by the way, the “proof” that backs Grey Goose’s claim as the World’s Best Tasting Vodka®? Yup, it’s BTI’s rating from 1998.
2 comments:
You had me at the word charlatan. I can't stand Bacos in a salad let alone digest the very idea of them in some kind of liquid form. You are a brave soul. Had you not knocked something that involved whipped cream, one of my five staple food groups, I may have just called you brilliant. Too bad.
Well...Bac-O's taste great on a salad... have you tried mixing the vodka into a vinagrette? There's got to be a purpose for this yet.
Also, brave as you are, did you try any of the other mix recommendations on the site (The Flu Shot, Bacon-Wrapped Melon Ball, etc)?
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