Arnold Palmers

I drink a lot of tea. I just like the stuff. I tend to drink it iced with sugar.

I learned recently that iced tea is very much an American thing - the rest of the world tends to only drink tea hot and the idea of iced tea is bizarre to most of them.

Occasionally, I'll drink an Arnold Palmer. Because I like a good lemonade, too. Iced tea is very American, so any drink which contains it becomes more obscure to non-Americans.

A few weeks ago, Dasha asked me if I was obsessed with tea - I think that's probably a fair question. I don't drink much soda anymore, so most of what I drink at work is tea.  At the time, I had a canned Arnold Palmer in front of me.

"I may be a bit obsessed," I said, "but this one isn't just tea.  Did you want to try some?"

"I don't know," she said, "What else is in it?"

"Lemonade.  Do you like Lemonade?"

After a bit of hesitation, she responded in the affirmative.

It cracks me up, sometimes, because she's so very willing to try all these new-to-her things, even though we've had some definite misses. Of course, a few of the hits have been significant ...

I grabbed one of our shot-sized cups and poured a bit of my drink into it. "If you want more than this, let me know - I have more in the fridge."

She took a small sip, and it was immediately followed by the "Do Not Want" expression.

"I take it we have another miss?"

"I don't think I like it.  It's weird, though. Because you can taste the lemonade at the same time as you can taste the iced tea, and I like lemonade."

She tried another sip. She actually finished off the small glass. "Now I am sure," she informed me, "I don't like this."

Like everything so far, I thanked her for trying it.

The verdict: Fail. Apparently the iced tea-ness overwhelmed the lemonadity. And yes, I know that those aren't actual words.

New Russian Thing: Kvass

Following along with my sampling of a variety of Russian candies, Dasha brought in something else for us to try: Kvass.

Kvass is one of the most popular beverages on the planet. It's extremely popular in Eastern Europe, throughout the former Soviet Union, and even into parts of Northern China. Like most beverages that are so widespread, there are thousands of varieties, so when I say, "Kvass is ... " what I mean is "most kvass is ... "

Keep that in mind.

It's often compared to beer. In fact, the best kvass is apparently produced by breweries, and it's often slightly alcoholic (hovering around a three or four proof, which is 1.5-2% alcohol by volume). Kvass is actually made with bread.

Yes, really.

When making kvass, you first dehydrate some stale bread (Rye seems to be the most popular variety). Then you drop it into boiling water.  Then you strain it and let it cool before adding yeast, sugar, and a bit more water. And other ingredients - mint, juice, raisins, and berries seem to be popular additions.

Then it is strained and cooled and strained and cooled. And then it sits for a few days. And then it's filtered and refrigerated and then drunk.

I was afraid I wouldn't like it - and I didn't want to waste it because it's expensive. So I poured a small amount into a glass the size of a shot glass.  It was amber in color, and smelled ... like fresh bread. It was actually a bit disconcerting to smell, because I can't think of anything else that smells like bread and looks like tea.

I took a careful sip - Dasha has a sense of humor, so I wasn't sure if she was pranking me or not. My first thought was, "It tastes like bread!"

In fact, it's rather disconcertingly like drinking bread. Don't get me wrong - it's tasty - but the bread flavor just feels weird coming from a beverage. It tasted like fresh-baked bread.

I'll drink it again if it's offered, but I don't think it's something I'll purchase for myself. I guess that makes the verdict a tentative win on this one.

Pocky

I know, I know.  Pocky is about as American as Log Cabins or Apple Pie (look it up). But it's big here in the US. Well, among geeks and those who have been introduced to it.

It's available in most grocery stores here in the greater Seattle area.

What is it?  It's basically just a chocolate-dipped breadstick.

Yes. Really. But you need to try it to understand just why it's so good.

A few weeks back, I brought some into the office, and Dasha saw me crunching away. "What is that?"

The only possible answer to that is, of course, "It's Pocky. Want some?"

I handed her one of them, and she eyed it warily, "What is this?"

"Pocky. It's actually a Japanese treat, but it's easily available here and I really like it. Taste it."

She sniffed at it, and then took a tentative bite. She does that a lot - it's like she doesn't trust me or something. One wonders why.

"Is this just bread inside?"

"Basically, yes."

Another tentative bite, "It's good! I think I like this!"

Now, a box of Pocky often includes multiple plastic packages, each of which have a number of Pocky. So I just gave her the remainder of that package. "I need to get some of this for me! What is it called, again?"

And I showed her the package (which she photographed so she could find it in the stores).

Verdict? Win. I'm definitely getting better at finding things she'll like.

Dairy Queen Blizzards

Right next door to the Arby's we occasionally visit, there is a Dairy Queen.

Now, Dasha used to work for McDonald's, so I figured she'd had a McFlurry.

"No," she said, "I never got interested in trying one."

I've learned that she is really hit-or-miss on dairy products. She doesn't like sour cream, and isn't even willing to try French Onion Dip. Ranch Dressing is hit-or-miss (usually a miss).  Apparently the McFlurry looked a bit too much like sour cream.

I'm mostly kidding, of course - she does know the difference between sour cream and soft serve. I don't know why she didn't try a McFlurry, given her sweet tooth.

Either way, when we described Dairy Queen's signature item (the Blizzard), we told her that it's "kind of like a McFlurry, but better."

"Okay," she said, "I will try one the next time you go."

The next question was, of course, which flavor to get for her. DQ offers a dizzying array of them in four categories. Rather than guess (like I did with the Slurpees), I decided to let her decide.

She selected the Strawberry Cheesequake. In my opinion, it's not the strongest introduction to Blizzards, but it's not bad.

So that Friday, I headed to Arby's for lunch and grabbed Blizzards on my way back.

"It's really good," she said after a few bites. Or should that be sips? "Why didn't you show me this before?"

I figured that'd be the end of it, but, when we came in on Monday, she had something further to say to us. “So, you know that … um … that Blizzard? I tried three more this weekend. And I called my sister and I told her, and my husband tried one and he liked it and … “

Yep.  We've created a monster.

Win.

New Russian Thing: Candy

Dasha turned the tables on me this week. "These are Russian candy," she told me as she spilled a small handful of wrapped candies onto the desk. "I think you will like them."

As Ii grabbed a likely-looking first victim, I asked her, "What's this one?"

"It is sorta, um, like Honey." Now, one of my favorite candies is Bit-O-Honey. Or, more accurately, one of my favorites when I was younger was Bit-O-Honey. I was the only kid I knew who liked them.

It ... it was a less-chewy Bit-O-Honey. Much less chewy - it crumbled into my mouth as I ate it. But the taste was close.

I pointed at another one with cherries printed on the label. "What's this one? It looks like a Cherry Cordial!"

"It ... um ... it has cherry alcohol in it." Sure enough, it was a cherry cordial. And not a bad one, either - but I've never been found of cherry liquor.

"What about these - are they different flavors of the same thing?" I pointed at three with similar wrappers.

"No, these are the same flavor.  Those are different," she said, pointing at a different set of three.

So, naturally, I had to know what the flavors were. "This one is almond," she said, "and this one ... it is a berry flavor. I don't think you have it." The third was milk chocolate - it translated as "Cream Chocolate" when she used her translation website of choice.

The berry turned out to be bilberry - which is reported to be similar in flavor to blueberry. As I'm not fond of blueberries (yes, I'm picky), I set that one aside for my wife to try, and I popped the almond one open.

The flavor was fine, but I wasn't fond of the texture.  It was chocolate wrapped around an Almond paste - but it was almost more gelatin than paste. Somewhere between toothpaste and Jell-O.

The last one I tried had a cute picture of a cow on the cover.  The candy itself was roughly football-shaped. "It's a chocolate cream," she told me. It was chocolate, all right. With a wafery-crunch that reminded me a bit of a Crunch Bar. And the filling was chocolate frosting in terms of flavor and texture.

It was really good.

All in all, I found a number things I like in the mix, and I got to try something new.

I call it a Win.

Follow-Up #1: Slurpees

A few months back, I bought a Slurpee for Dasha, and it was too sweet. A week or two ago, I went back to 7-Eleven again.

Damn its convenient closeness!

This time, I bought for her a Coke Slurpee.

And, you know, one for myself. Because, as long as I'm there ...

"What is this?"

"It's another Slurpee. I think you'll like this one better."

A tentative sip, with that fear-filled expression I've come to expect when inflicting new things on Dasha.  "You're right!  I do like it! This is very good."

I'm starting to learn Dasha's preferences in terms of sweetness. I think that - if I don't run out of things to introduce to her - I'll have more Wins as time goes by.

She has, by the way, purchased several Slurpees since. All Coke.

Root Beer and Root Beer Floats

I know I focus a lot on food, here.  A large part of this is because I need to be able to demonstrate these American things here at work - and there aren't a lot of non-Food things I can easily bring in to work that she hasn't already experienced.

A few weeks back, I had mentioned that if it kept getting this warm, I would have to bring in Root Beer Floats.

I've been conditioned over the last few months - every time I mention something that is an American Institution, I glance at Dasha - just to see if she knows what it is we're talking about. And there aren't many things as American as Root Beer. Well, depending on whose version of the history you listen to.

My favorite root beer is Bulldog Root Beer, but it's too creamy to be good in a float - floats require a slightly less smooth root beer.

The two best root beers for floats (in my opinion) are A&W and Henry Weinhard's. They're both root beers with a slight edge to their flavor that is perfectly mellowed by the vanilla ice cream. Both of them are not bad for the drinking, either (even if they're not my favorites).

The first thing I did was put a bottle of Weinhard's root beer in front of her.

"Am I allowed to drink this?" Dasha isn't 21, yet. And Weinhard's comes in a dark brown bottle that looks like a beer bottle. And, of course, the word "Beer" appears prominently on the label.

"It's not alcoholic," I told her.  In fact, alcoholic root beers are hard to find these days.

I cracked it open for her. She then sniffed at the bottle. "We have a medicine that smells exactly like this." A quick swig. A quick "DO NOT WANT" expression.

Then: "Does it have cinnamon in it?"

Most Root Beer these days derive the bulk of their flavor from the Sasparilla plant. In fact, the biggest difference between the various brands (so far as I can tell) is the type and ratio of vanilla that they add to the mix.

This, of course, is before you add the ice cream.

Now, I've seen people make floats with a huge variety of ice creams. It's the easiest part of the whole thing.  For Dasha's introduction to floats, I just grabbed the cheapest bucket of ice cream I could find. Seriously. As long as you're using vanilla ice cream (not French Vanilla, not Vanilla Bean - just plain old boring Vanilla Ice Cream), you're golden. Seriously.

After a skeptical sip: "It's still too strong and smelly, but with ice cream, it's just perfect."

"It's really good. Very good, actually."

At the end of the day, I sent her home with some root beer so she could introduce her husband to the delight of the float.

Verdict: Win on the floats, Fail on the root beer itself.