Foxon Park also sells a concoction of these three varieties (white birch, root beer and cream soda) called Iron Brew, which I have encountered in the wild but have not had the chance to try. This bears no relation to the Scottish national soda, although in terms of international influence, Foxon does produce a Gassosa, a spin on the classic Italian mixture of simple syrup, carbonation and fruit flavors. Founded in New Haven by Italian immigrants in 1922, still committed to only using actual sugar, Foxon Park’s brand serves as a reminder that sweetness doesn’t need to soda’s only goal. There’s the potential for complexity there, and some history too. Now if I could just find a bottle of Horehound Beer somewhere. (https://www.facebook.com/BundabergGingerBeer/posts/255889527813547)
I have a distinct memory of attending a church youth group event, sometime around 1996, a pot-luck affair to which everyone brought soda or snacks. My father, who possessed (and still does) a seemingly inexhaustible trove of carbonated beverages purchased at steep discount prices, all of them stored in an expansive basement closet overstocked with expired items, saw this as an opportunity. He sent me off with two bottles of Pennsylvania Dutch brand birch beer, scooped up at some previous sale, then deemed unfit for offering to company (the only time soda was served at our house). The stuff sat on the communal snack table, among the more fashionable Mountain Dews and Cherry Cokes, while other kids poked fun at its weird yellow label and the liquid’s sharp violet tinge. I shrunk away, denying my relationship with the Birch by omission (perhaps three times?) and gulped down the vile Mountain Dew instead. Birch beer is fantastic, and far more satisfying than any unnatural distillation of Yellow 5, orange juice concentrate and corn syrup. The same goes for its other offbeat root-based cousins, from sarsaparilla to ginger beer, which are enjoying something of a moment now as artificial additives continue to fall out of favor. Visiting Frank Pepe's famous pizzeria in New Haven, I was reminded of both this anecdote and the general deliciousness of these historical sodas upon encountering a new variety, the estimable White Birch flavor. The tomato and clam pies at Pepe's are great, lightly crunchy and undeniably handsome (as seen below), but they’re not in need of any more words spilled about them. Herbal sodas however, particularly the subset which employ rootstocks for their flavoring, don’t seem to merit enough discussion. Curious about the history of these tonics, I did some digging. They're not directly related to Pennsylvania Dutch tradition, despite the title of the brand (still proudly retaining its yellow packaging), which seems to be more of an indirect nod to old-timey flavors than anything else. Instead, they have roots (pun intended) in English herbal sodas, the Dandelion Burdock version of which (derived from the roots of both plants) is likely the oldest soft drink on record, with a history spanning back to the Middle Ages, starting off as a type of light mead. Birch beer, it turns out, is not actually produced from roots, instead brewed with birch or oak bark and sap, the volume and variety of the latter determining the drink’s color (colors range from white, really clear, to brown, red and purple. Root beer, on the other hand, is produced from sassafras, although artificial substitutes are required since the 1960s revelation that safrole is a potential cancer-causing agent. Cream soda, despite being linked (at least in my mind) to other root beverages, doesn’t possess any inherent botanical qualities, but does share some flavoring components (primarily vanilla) with others in this category.
Foxon Park also sells a concoction of these three varieties (white birch, root beer and cream soda) called Iron Brew, which I have encountered in the wild but have not had the chance to try. This bears no relation to the Scottish national soda, although in terms of international influence, Foxon does produce a Gassosa, a spin on the classic Italian mixture of simple syrup, carbonation and fruit flavors. Founded in New Haven by Italian immigrants in 1922, still committed to only using actual sugar, Foxon Park’s brand serves as a reminder that sweetness doesn’t need to soda’s only goal. There’s the potential for complexity there, and some history too. Now if I could just find a bottle of Horehound Beer somewhere. (https://www.facebook.com/BundabergGingerBeer/posts/255889527813547)
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