Back when Zima was a relatively new product, it was considered a sometimes tasty alcoholic drink, sort of like a dessert. I certainly never knew anyone who'd sit down and drink an entire case of this stuff! If you were purchasing a six-pack of Zima, it's safe to assume that you were also buying a whole lot of beer to go with it. My friends would occasionally drink one after downing 2 or 3 beers, and they seemed to enjoy it.
I figured I'd give it a shot. Seeing as I'm not a real fan of beer (Yuengling Black & Tan excluded, of course), I was hoping to enjoy it. I've been known to choose those wimpy wine coolers over a Budwesier, so it seemed possible that I would have a new drink to enjoy.
Let's just say I was wrong.
How to best describe the taste of Zima? Several alcohol-savvy Epinionators have offered their verdicts, and mine is equally as vague: I think it tastes like the saliva of an alcoholic 89-year old man who just drank some orange juice. No, wait. It tastes like a combination of rusty rain water, any random tropical fruit, rotten battery acid and some moldy rice. Suffice to say that I'm not a fan of the way Zima tastes. But all that pales in comparison to the aftertaste. I somehow made it through a whole bottle of Zima that night three years ago, and I can still taste it whenever I belch.
The Zima execs love to claim that their product is as potent as two beers. Well guess what? So is two beers! Drink the two beers! When this product first hit the market, I was certain it would be extinct in a year. I was wrong. Somehow, this mucous-like slop still sells well in some parts of the country. Perhaps it makes a good paint thinner or nail-polish remover.
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