When I was first started to browse the web, one of my favorite sites was http://www.bad-candy.com. I don’t know exactly what it was about the humor that brought me back over and over again. It was probably because it’s over-the-top, and I was 14.
Nevertheless, I love it. They’re the people that taught me about tamarind, which is Nature’s way of showing it doesn’t give a shit, and various other bad candies. Since the website hasn’t been updated since 2008, I’m hoping they don’t mind if I rip them off— with juice.
Yes, this will be a semi-regular occurring series where I drink questionable protein shakes, juices and waters, then type out my pain to an attentive audience. For my first ever review, I wanted to get something really weird. Finally, my yuppie senses went off at a local grocery store, and I picked up AMAzon coconut water, with rooibos tea and pfaffia.
Coconut water and rooibos tea aren’t that unusual, I admit, but what the hell is pfaffia? No, seriously, I’ve never heard of this before. Luckily, the friendly people at AMAzon created a little placard just to answer that question.
“Discover amazing pfaffia, the Amazon Rainforest wonder root natives have been using for 300 years. They call it “para tudo,” which means “for everything,” and use it for its all-over restorative effects.”
Sounds like Grade-A bullshit.
Some light Googling brings up a Wikipedia article for pfaffia, which leads to an article on suma root, which is what I think is actually in AMAzon water. My Nancy Drew-like detective skills were aroused when I read, “Nicknamed “para tudo” which means “for all,” suma is a traditional herbal medicine.” The wording isn’t exactly verbatim, but someone’s got a lazy copy-editor.
So suma, also known as pfaffia is a root in South America that natives use. Great, there’s some history for you. The article mentions nothing about them using it for a past 300 years, and none of its intended effects, but I’m sure it does something. Otherwise, why would a drink of cheap tea and water cost close to $4?
Now, the part you’ve all been waiting for, what this crap actually tastes like. Well, to be honest it’s pretty good. It’s sweet, but not over-powering or cloying. I can’t taste the rooibos, just coconut water with a sour-ish aftertaste that’s actually pretty refreshing.
The biggest detractor is the biggest seller, however. The ground-up pfaffia root floats around, making the drink chalky. It settles quickly, so it gets worse as you drink more. It sticks in the back of your throat, and it feels like I have to cough every time I finish swallowing. Considering it probably does little to nothing to help humans, I’d just rather have a pfaffia-free drink.
AMAzon water does come in other flavors, which I would probably try if they were cheaper. The worst offender in this whole scheme is the company itself. AMAzon rubs me the wrong way. They use “cutesy” language and taglines to sell their overpriced water to health-crazed yuppies.
Consider this excerpt, which comes right off the bottle, “What does modern science say? You know how it goes; one day you’re hot the next your not.”
Don’t blame science on the fact that your miracle root has the same nutritional value as dandelions. The name of their company even bugs me, AMAzon. Jeez, did you spend a whole 20 seconds thinking that one up? The three random capital letters in their name is annoying as hell, which is why I’ve made sure to type it out again and again.
In conclusion, while that water itself is palatable, the pfaffia (or suma) root makes it nasty. So, unless you hate money and love companies that talk down to you, give AMAzon coconut water and rooibos a pass and just drink regular water.
out of 4: The drink is actually decent, although the ground up pfaffia is gross and makes me think of dried leaf bits in my drink. I should also take away a bottle for the company’s general air of dickishness, but I’m feeling magnanimous.