I say, I say, you're doin' it all wrong, son! If'n ya wanna get a buzz on like a true Suth'en getleman, you gotta reach for the best!
Manufacturer: Mogen David Inc.,
Price: 3.79 / 750ml.
Alcohol Content: 13%
Presentation: 2/5 – My brain can’t latch on to this strange honey color.
Taste: 5/5 – Tastes more or less like those gummy peach-ring candies.
Burn: 4/5 – Thick and nasty. Definitely needs a proper chill to handle evenly.
Buzz: 3.5/5 – Again, the heavy “cream” MD’s coat your system like 10W-40.
Rarity: 3/5 – I’ve seen it in
Value: 3/5 – Like a locust-infested
This review kicks of the first of six brand-spankin’ new bum wine articles from my latest batch of brew heisted from south of the Mason-Dixon. We’ve got three new flavors of Mad Dog to get through and three new variations on Cisco as well. You’ll notice my photographer has changed and the new bum wine mug shots are a bit better quality than you might be used to. I apologize for the extra effort; we’ll get back on target soon.
Now, on to the business at hand:
If you’ve ever bitten too far into a peach, you’ll know that chipping your teeth off the impenetrable iron pit is one of the least pleasurable experiences in humanity’s few short generations of dominance on the planet. Fortunately, Mad Dog’s dreadfully thick Peaches ‘N Cream doesn’t contain any denture-shattering pits to dodge, but the total experience isn’t much of a step up, either.
Possibly due to economic stress, bum wine is becoming increasingly scarce in my home town. Where once I could stop by any one of the four liquor stores in the
Color notwithstanding, I chilled this bottle immediately before the experiment. I’ve learned from past mistakes and all bum wines should be chilled, but especially ones with “cream” in the name. Upon cracking the seal I was met with penny-candy peach aroma interwoven with that classic Mad Dog dead liquor smell. After a few sips of this customer I noted two things:
- It was much, much too thick to handle in one sitting, and
- It tasted exactly like Trolli peach ring candies.
My grandmother goes ape shit for those candies, but I love her too much to subject her to this, no matter how many gin and tonics she pounds down at night.
Now, I’m no stranger to cutting alcohol with sodas and seltzer to even out the taste, but honestly I couldn’t think of anything I could mix this with that wouldn’t immediately turn my esophagus into a fire hose, spraying my misery all around the inside rim of the toilet bowl in a wailing symphony of distress. I only drank enough to reach the label and slung the rest in the back of the refrigerator to wait for day when I was feeling sorry for myself to finish it off.
That day came later that weekend when I decided to mope around the house all day in my robe and not do a god damned thing. It was probably a Saturday night and I was either watching a House rerun or playing Wii Tennis and I decided it would be a good idea to finish off the Peach. I started in on it around 10PM and finished it by 11. The taste hadn’t changed much after sitting in the fridge for a week, but I detected a distinct lack of alcohol despite the chemical burn experienced with every sip.
When I went to sleep that night I spent a good amount of time drifting feebly in and out of consciousness as clashing sulfites wreaked havoc on my internal clock. I was tired when I went to sleep and I didn’t feel restless or wired from all the sugar in the wine, but I just couldn’t get to sleep! I finally managed to crash around 3AM and was practically devastated when the alarm rang five hours later signaling the start of a painful day. I didn’t wake up with a hangover, but I was suffering from lack of sleep and the vague peach taste still lingered in my mouth reminding me of the tragic mistake I made the night before.
If it wasn’t for the problems I faced trying to sleep through my body’s valiant attempt to process the liquor, Peaches ‘N Cream may have a place on my side shelf in case of emergency. At the house we don’t even afford bum wines a place on the bottom shelf of our home bar. It’s like the family member we call on Christmas to wish goodwill, but the rest of the year we try to keep him away from the kids for fear of lecherous intent. We need to keep the bum wines separate from the real liquor.