Here's a quiz, readers. What demographic is the Whippers beverage line catering to? Health-conscious and "green" dominatrices with a soul? Whipped boyfriends in need of a pick me up? Whippet aficionados? Victims of whiplash? Either way, they're a little confusing.
When I saw them in the grocery store for 99 cents apiece, I thought they'd be the drunken one night stand of a juice box and a Yoplait Whip, reviewed here on Cheap Eats, and that, when shaken, they'd get fluffy and "whipped up." Turns out, they're nothing like that. They're just...a twisted smoothie. Milk...and juice. Isn't that what a smoothie's supposed to be? Milk and juice? Whippers are touting that like it's the holy fucking grail and how shaking that will create some incredible amalgam of combination, like an a-bomb of flavor in our mouths, when in reality it's like the lazy man's Jamba Juice.
I'm here to judge the taste, though, not the mildly retarded advertising campaign and slogans, which I will also be more than glad to thoroughly rip apart. Starting with the Strawberries and Cream flavor- oh, for the love of god, why is it brown? It's like someone took off-brand Pepto-Bismol and vomited it back up. It's tepid. I drank it out of my little shot glass, though, and wasn't too upset. I expected serious chalkiness and a thickness that I couldn't attribute, probably from actual chalk, but what I got was liquid smooth, and a nice flavor, albeit a little watery, but indeed, one that did embody both strawberries and milk. It was artificial. But it was both. And that's all we asked it to do.
Derrida said, "I do everything I think possible or acceptable to escape from this trap." Obviously, the trap in question was the Orange and Cream flavored Whipper. Admiral Ackbar, it's a trap. It's a giant, fucking trap hidden inside this St. Joseph's baby aspirin-flavored thing.
The smoothie looks innocuous. It looks like someone, maybe a sweet child with an adorable speech impediment dropped their creamsicle into my shot glass and left it to melt on a nice, summer day, and now it's here for me to drink.
...
WHY IS IT BITTER? For the love of God, why is it bitter and tangy? It tastes like sour milk. I checked the sell date on this, it's like, three years from now. There is no reason this should taste like orange rind and sour milk. It's a smoothie, not a torture device. Oh god, make it go away.
With my friend Swagger, we realized the key to all knowledge blueberry. It sounds like it will taste fantastic in a drink, but after you take the first swig, you realize how little it actually does translate. It's the literal embodiment of Lost in Translation. That's exactly what they were talking about in the film. Blueberry flavored drinks. 
This smoothis is pretty average, but then the "acai" flavor hits you after. I have had dried acai berries in Whole Foods as a sample. They were dry and tasted like the sampling man had handed me cut up bits of bitter plastic instead of tasty berries. The flavor of acai is a slightly acidic, nutty, and very sharp at the end, and cut through the blueberry and milk flavor when I swallowed it, and made me question the milk's freshness. But no, it was just the damned miracle berry.
I couldn't finish this berry because the acai just kept turning me off of it. I want normal fruits. I don't care about the energy. The blueberry and cream aspect would have been nice if the flavors were more natural and cultivated, but the fact of the matter is, it's an artificial drink trying to imitate many others, and it's pretty gross.
Whippers. I hate that name. What do you put in your smoothies, readers?
Labels: 1, 2, 4, beverage, dairy, low fat
I'm here to judge the taste, though, not the mildly retarded advertising campaign and slogans, which I will also be more than glad to thoroughly rip apart. Starting with the Strawberries and Cream flavor- oh, for the love of god, why is it brown? It's like someone took off-brand Pepto-Bismol and vomited it back up. It's tepid. I drank it out of my little shot glass, though, and wasn't too upset. I expected serious chalkiness and a thickness that I couldn't attribute, probably from actual chalk, but what I got was liquid smooth, and a nice flavor, albeit a little watery, but indeed, one that did embody both strawberries and milk. It was artificial. But it was both. And that's all we asked it to do.
Derrida said, "I do everything I think possible or acceptable to escape from this trap." Obviously, the trap in question was the Orange and Cream flavored Whipper. Admiral Ackbar, it's a trap. It's a giant, fucking trap hidden inside this St. Joseph's baby aspirin-flavored thing.
The smoothie looks innocuous. It looks like someone, maybe a sweet child with an adorable speech impediment dropped their creamsicle into my shot glass and left it to melt on a nice, summer day, and now it's here for me to drink.
With my friend Swagger, we realized the key to all knowledge blueberry. It sounds like it will taste fantastic in a drink, but after you take the first swig, you realize how little it actually does translate. It's the literal embodiment of Lost in Translation. That's exactly what they were talking about in the film. Blueberry flavored drinks. 
This smoothis is pretty average, but then the "acai" flavor hits you after. I have had dried acai berries in Whole Foods as a sample. They were dry and tasted like the sampling man had handed me cut up bits of bitter plastic instead of tasty berries. The flavor of acai is a slightly acidic, nutty, and very sharp at the end, and cut through the blueberry and milk flavor when I swallowed it, and made me question the milk's freshness. But no, it was just the damned miracle berry.