Drink Review: Purity Organic Apple Juice

Like most Americans, I stopped drinking apple juice after fourth grade, when slurping from a cardboard box abruptly lost its appeal (that is, until I discovered box wine 10 years later). From then on, apple juice played a smaller and smaller role in my life. It failed to follow me into adulthood, and therefore remains a liquid nostalgia trip, forever associated with recess and Power Rangers.

Why is this? Why do cranberry and orange juice stick with us after puberty, while apple never makes it past the elementary school checkpoint? Perhaps it’s too sweet for the adult palate, like bubble gum ice cream. Or perhaps it’s ignored because it lacks utilitarian properties. Apple juice won’t detoxify your bloodstream like cranberry, or fight your cold like orange. And it certainly won’t hide the flavor of that stale Smirnoff vodka you found in the back of your kitchen cabinet.

The time is ripe (heh), then, for an apple juice makeover - which is probably what the people at Purity were thinking when they drew up a snappy, modernist label for their all-natural, organic juice brand. Because who says that apples are lamer than oranges? Maybe this apple aversion habit is all in our heads, and it would do us some good to take a swig of the amber liquid. (According to the BBC, apple juice does have health benefits - it can prevent heart disease!)

Unfortunately, by not diluting their product, Purity has created a super-dense brand of juice. While regular, non-organic juice is often watery, the Purity brand is almost too thick. The first time I took a swig, I honestly felt like I was drinking a liquid piece of apple pie. True, you’re getting a bang for your buck with this product, but I doubt I’d be able to finish a bottle in a single sitting. I didn’t even try – as the thought of doing so kind of made me nauseous.

However, while the texture was a little heavy, the taste was A+. It was still sweet, but not overpoweringly so, and I definitely believe this product is 100% pure juice, without additives. You can tell it’s authentic because a fine layer of apple sediment settles on the floor of the bottle after periods of rest. Yeah, baby. That’s the real deal.

So ladies and gents, if you can handle the heady ride of undiluted apple juice, go for it. By swapping that juice box for a recyclable plastic container, you can placate your inner child without feeling like a baby.

• Purity Organic Website

Snack Review: Mah Tong Huat Jolly Jolly Gel Snacks

Most of us have seen gel snacks. Usually in neons or bright pastels, bags of the miniature fruity cups line the snack aisles of Asian specialty stores everywhere. They tempt us with their cuteness and the promise of refreshing, unusual fruity flavors.

I’ve fallen victim to their superbly kawaii charms a few times in the past, mostly in my early teenage years - a halcyon era before I actually had to worry about the price of such indulgences. Though she might have given the price tags a questioning once-over, my mom never seemed to take too much issue with shelling out $2.99 a bag for snacks like these. After all, they were fruit-flavored, which automatically made them healthier than, say, giant cookies.

Although paying for my own groceries is a necessary evil of adulthood and all that jazz, I really miss being able to toss any snack I desired into the shopping cart with nary a care or concern. Now that I’m paying for my edible vices, I’ve become quite a cheapskate in some respects. Suddenly, I find myself having difficulty parting with three or more dollars for one snack, unless it’s an absolute favorite of mine. That means gel snacks, no matter how cutely packaged, are usually out of the question.

However, there’s always something new to discover in L.A.’s ethnic markets, and frequently those “somethings” I come across are cheap. On my most recent trip to the neighborhood Vietnamese emporium, one of my finds was a bag of Mah Tong Huat Jolly Jolly Snacks - a scarcely-believable steal, at 39 cents. Sure, the usual cutesy anime-style doodles were absent from the bag, replaced by too-realistic depictions of oranges and grapes oozing juice - but what do you expect for just under four cents a gel snack?

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New Snack Review: Newtons Fruit Crisps

I’ve always been a Fig Newton fan. If I’m on a road trip or lazing around on the beach, my backpack will inevitably contain several sleeves of gooey Newtons. They’re such a solid snack, you know? Depending on your hunger level, they can either act as a quick bite (serving size: 2 Newtons) or as a meal replacement (serving size: 8 Newtons).

However, after manufacturing the same product of over a century, I can understand why Nabisco wanted to diversify. These cookies are great, but with the advent of Gogurt and Cheeseburger in a Can, the Newton Big Wigs (or should I say Big Figs? Oh, snap!) needed to shake things up. Staying relevant in the snack industry is a blood and guts business, and if you’re not ready to step it up a notch, you can expect to go the sad, forgotten way of Hostess’ Pudding Pies.

So how do these snacks shake down? Well, although it seems odd to attach the Newton name to a food that doesn’t stick to your teeth, these Crisps aren’t half bad. Imagine someone ironed a normal Fig Newton until it was flattened and crunchy, and you’ve pretty much got a Fruit Crisp. There’s a hard outer shell - which fractures like Tectonic Plates when you bite down on it – followed by a thin layer of succulent apple filling.

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Snack Review: Seneca’s Crispy Cinnamon Apple Chips

Let me share something with you guys – I’m from the Berkshires, a tree-covered cow oasis at the edge of the demented rectangle that is Massachusetts (think “opposite of Cape Cod,” and you’re there). Where I grew up, old paper mills perch atop snow-covered foothills, cows bellow loudly at the rising sun, and restless teenagers throw loud, vodka-fueled house parties in an effort to quell their epic boredom. Basically, it’s like any other American suburb, but with fewer Republicans and more fresh air.

As far as I can tell, our economy sustains itself on two main exports: 1) Rustic New England Charm, which we serve by the bucketful to middle-age tourists from New York. And 2), apples.

Yes, round, glistening apples. In the Berkshires, apple orchards are as plentiful as Priuses blasting NPR. They inspire a love that other towns reserve for their high school football teams, or local dogs who save their owners by dialing 911 with their snouts. We even hold a three-day festival called the “Apple Squeeze,” which features more apple fritters than should be legally allowed within a four block radius.

What I’m trying to say with this extended introduction, is that when I placed one of Seneca’s Crispy Apple Chips in my mouth, I had a Proustian experience that transported me straight back to one of those Berkshire orchards. Seneca claims to use “fresh apples” in their products, and honestly, I have to believe them. Eating one of their Crispy Apple Chips felt like biting into a Macintosh plucked straight from the tree - and I’m fully aware of how schlocky that sounds.

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