Cooper's Cave Ale Company - 6 Reviews

I occasionally, well...more than occasionally get behind in my drinks and start "taking from the front." Anyone who has ever restocked shelves knows that is a no-no. Yogurt is expiring, milk is curdling, children are crying because of the results of my actions. Jay came over and set me straight by spending ten minutes in my back room, pulling out all my old stock, organizing my current back stock, stealing a couple drinks for himself, and being a generally great dude as per usual.

Among the old stock was this drink, which I had no idea I had. A chocolate cola: can you imagine? It's two great inventions in one bottle, ready for my drinking pleasure. Forgotten like it never happened. Poor, dusty bottle. I took everything Jay said needed to be reviewed due to companies sending it to us or expiration date to work and here we are, finally, after all these cold nights alone, together at last. Two objects, looking deep into each other's eyes, wanting each other. Desire. I took off the bottle's top lustfully only to be delivered with what I can only describe in the current context as "me doing most of the work." You feel me, ladies and gentlemen? It's not a great cola in itself. It's not a great chocolate taste in itself. Together cancels each other out more so leaving me looking to find pleasure elsewhere. It smells like a bowl of Tootsie Pops but it only tastes slightly like chocolate. The cola is non-existent.

While I'm not having actual sex with a bottle of pop, if it were good enough, I might at least think about it. This is a regrettable one night stand who is nice outside of the bedroom. She smells good, is a great person to talk to, but you should have never taken it further than that.

When I saw the Cooper's Cave sodas in the store I bought every flavor they had. They are a quasi-local company (about 4 hours away) and the labels looked great. Seriously, look at the design on any one of their flavors. They all have a cool comic book look to them. Remember what your mother said; “Don't judge a book by its cover.” This is one of those times when that nugget of wisdom works in the opposite way of what she meant. I guess “All that glitters is not gold” is another way of putting it.

This is one bland birch beer. An average amount of birch beer flavor hits you as soon as you take a swig, and just as quick it's gone. It tricks you in much the same way that diet pop does. You're greeted with a nice flavor that quickly dissipates, but instead of the gross sting of sucralose you're left with nothing. It's strange, it's sad and it leaves me wanting more flavor.

Since the 1890's the Van Helsing family has hunted the ever-elusive vampire Vlad the Impaler. He was the most feared man in the eastern block until it came out that he was not a man at all. When people realized his lack of humanity they began referring to him only as Dracula the lord of the undead.

It is not the 21st century and Ludwig Van Helsing (his mother was a fan of classical music) has finally tracked down Dracula to a remote town in Upstate New York. It is now his turn to go face to face with the ruler of the undead just as each of his male ancestors have in the past (In Bram Stoker's novel it claims that Abraham Van Helsing slayed the dark one, but that is nothing but a conspiracy to cover up the truth to keep the towns people calm. It was typical of politicians of the time.). It mid June and it's a nice warm day. The sun is shining and Ludwig takes that as a good sign. He parks his rental car at the front gate and walks up to the door of the mansion. He rings the bell, but no one answers. It's probably for the best, anyways his Intel informed him that there is a cave around back and that is where Dracula slumbers during the daylight hours. Ludwig digs around the piles of Burger King and Arby's wrappers in his back seat and produces a crossbow. He thinks it's kind of stupid, but the retro look of it is kinda bitchin'. He walks around the yard, waving to the neighbor next door who's mowing his lawn, and finds himself at the entrance of the cave. Ludwig is pretty much resigned to the fact that this is where he dies. I mean every male of his family has met the reaper under similar circumstances, but whatever this planet is going down the turlet anyways. If The Impaler doesn't get him, he'll probably end up with cancer or AIDS in the next year anyways. With that thought he stepped into the darkness.

About 100 feet inside the mouth of the cave Ludwig came upon a large wooden door. It looked as if he would never be able to open it himself, but with one small shove it flew open. You have to hand it to the prince of darkness; he sure doesn't let his property fall into disrepair. Inside the room was a smaller room that was built out of black steel, with what appeared to be elevator doors on it. Ludwig pushed the button and the doors slid open exposing what appeared to be the world's most comfortable bed. Ludwig momentarily forgot his charge and just lost himself thinking about taking a little nap. In the middle of the bed was Lord Dracula with a nice lacy sleep mask on, Ludwig slowly crept towards the bed, careful not to make a sound. Just as he was about a foot away he stepped on a remote control and Miley Cirus' "Party in the USA" started blaring from the stereo system. Oddly enough Dracula just rolled over. I guess a couple of hundred year of being undead really makes you a sound sleeper. Ludwig shrugged, pointed his crossbow and put and arrow right through the vampire's heart. Dracula screamed, exorbitant amounts of blood shot out of his chest and then he and all his fluids burned up, like he never existed. "Huh." was all Ludwig could say. It was way easier than he ever would have imagined.

His whole life had been built around stalking and then being killed by Dracula, and now that it was over and he was still alive he was completely unprepared. So he ended up moving into Dracula's house. There wasn't much inside except cases of empty bottles marked "Dracula's Blood." He didn't want to put them to the curb in the recycling bins for fear that the local homeless would then constantly rummage through his trash looking for more returnables. Instead he took up the hobby of making soda pop, and used the bottles to hold his wares. What else was he going to do, get a job? I think not. Since the bottles said "Dracula's Blood" already he decided to make a strawberry soda. It didn't turn out as well as he would have hoped. Here he was with all these rad looking bottles, with a sup par soda to fill them. He guessed it kind of tasted like strawberries, but it was more of a generic soda flavor with a generic berry undertone to it. The closer you got to the bottom the stronger the flavor became, but what good is it to have a few sips be tasty when over half the bottle be extremely disappointing. The town folks all laughed at him. Sure he had killed the father of the undead, but he still couldn't make a high quality soda. They didn't hesitate to remind him that you're only as good as your last achievement. Man he should have just given up after committing monster homicide.

I don't like things I can't explain. I like new things because it's a new experience. This drink I simply can't put my finger on. When you burp, yes, it tastes like sarsaparilla, but when you drink it...question mark. I cannot place it. No matter how much I take a big sip, little sip, swish, and smell. On and on it goes and no answers. I might want to say that there is orange in it, but I can't be sure since one of the ingredients is listed as "natural and artificial flavors". Vague, nice.

This could also be the fastest dissipating drink I've ever drank. As soon as it's off your tongue, it's gone. No remnants, no remainder, no carry the one. Here then gone. Like a sports car that might be awesome but it drove past you on a residential street going around ninety and you couldn't tell if it was a Ferrari or what. All you know is it was fast. At least with a Ferrari, it would get your mind going about things like driving it, seeing it slower, touching it, sitting in it, wondering if Burt Reynolds was driving it. This drink just left you wondering why you wasted your time drinking something that didn't want to spend any time with you. This drink is a crappy girlfriend.

It looks like Scooter is all excited to head home and crack open a nice cold bottle of cream soda. He looks so happy and it looks like he can't get home soon enough. Looks can be deceiving my friends. I propose that Scooter is not racing home to have a nice. I believe that he is actually fleeing the scene of a crime. A crime that he perpetrated at the Cooper's Cave Ale Company.

If their Butter Beer was ant indication, Cooper's Cave knows how to make a high quality soda, especially a cream soda. I believe little Scooter went into the brewery and messed with the levels. For years he had been trying to get them to develop a cantaloupe flavored soda for him. It haunted his dreams and he needed it rushing over his taste buds in waking life. Mr. Cooper always brushed him off, but this morning Mr. Cooper was in a bad mood and he snapped art little Scooter and told him harshly that they would never produce such a soda and that the little festering bowl of dog snot should just leave him alone. Scooter ran out crying. After he calmed down, he decided he wanted revenge. He snuck into the brewery when the workers were on lunch and decreased the flavor by half. Now there was twice as much water to everything else ratio. Bad news bears. It left the batch very plain and uninteresting. The cream soda was more of an aftertaste. Looks like Scooter won this round. I wouldn't cross him if I were you.

Seriously though, I don't know if I got a bad batch of what, but the levels seem really off in the bottle. As I said their butterscotch cream soda was insanely flavorful, and this just pales in comparison. Something is awry.

People just don't understand what a hard life us members of Slytherin have. Wake up. Pray to the snake. Eat breakfast. Pray to the snake. Mock a Weasely for being a ginger. Pray to the snake. Go to class. Pray to the snake. Make fun of a Weasely for being poor. Pray to the snake. Study for potions. Pray to the snake. Plot against Harry Potter. Pray to the snake. Do the dark lords bidding. Pray to the snake.

That damn snake gets more praise than Odin ever did in his prime. On top of that we have to deal with all of the filthy mudbloods that started letting into the school. Ugh. Those disgusting creatures have no business learning magic. When will He Who Will Not Be Named come back and go all fourth reich on their unworthy keisters?

This is the only time of day that I get to relax. The snake has been appeased and I can sneak off to Hogsmeade and pop into The Three Broomsticks and get myself a nice cold one, loosen my robes and just spend some time on myself. They don't let the underclassman in here so it's nice and quiet. Also because they can't come here they all think that the sought after Butter Beer is alcoholic. They sure took a turn into Wrongville. There's nothing alcoholic about it. It's just a nice tasty cream soda that has been flavored with butterscotch. The combination hits you in some nice waves. First it's all nice and vanilla creamy. Then you swallow and the butterscotch tastes over as a nice mild aftertaste. To tell the truth before I tried one of these I was against butterscotch. It seemed unnatural as a flavor. Something mudbloods would eat as dessert. You still won't find me eating that trash, but I will enjoy one of these sodas whenever I get a chance. Oh great it's almost time to praise the snake again. I should get back to our common room.