Starbucks Chantico: A Review
(This article was originally conceived for CaptainOfTheInternet.com, earlier today.)
Considering that it was I that broke the scoop to you on the new Starbucks drink almost two weeks before it was actually introduced to the employees at your local Starbucks (much less the public), it was important that I try the fucking thing and tell you if it was crap or not. Well, I've tried it and... well, I'll tell you later, why ruin the suspense?
Today, 7:45PM.
Starbucks was quiet and for once, deserted. My cashier, a hard-rocker with buck teeth and bad stringy hair, couldn't find Chantico on the cash register. After apologizing twice, he grew flustered and had to call the barista on duty over to help him. She didn't know where it was on the menu either (in spite of it being on sale for over a week now). I felt an ominous shadow drift over me. I knew it was crap. Nobody's been ordering the damn thing while this guy has been on shift, in spite of it being on the menu in a category all of its own, in spite of the big floor length display out by the line, in spite of there being a big sign about it on the wall. Not only that, both of them pronounced it differently too, like they were unsure whether it's CHAN-tee-ko (like I pronounced it) or Chantico (all at once and rhyming with burrito).
I also ordered a grande hot chocolate, and a grande pumpkin spice blended creme frappuchino without whip for my wife. Her drink is seriously good and possibly the best drink they serve, but it's about to be expired now that the Holidays are over and it's off the menu. Actually, the creme version of the drink that my wife orders was never on the menu in the first place, just the coffee version, and that one tastes like perfume.
When delivering my drinks, the barista called out in spite of me being the only person waiting, "Chantico! Err.. drinking chocolate --" and smirked. That was a fucking smirk, I'm sure of it.
Then she took a good long look at it on the counter.
I walked home wondering what the smirk was about. Was it because it had a stupid name? Was it because it was chocolate steamed with whole milk and cocoa butter, a bonified saturated-fat sundae? Was it because she's tried it and thought it was nasty as sin?
Chantico at home, next to a grande hot chocolate,
my computer, video game packages, and a stack of index cards.
The presentation was nice. It looks like hot chocolate.
The first taste.
Continuing the review, you're going to need to use your imagination as I can't obviously reach out of the screen and hand you your own Chantico to drink. Are you ready?
Imagine chocolate syrup, rich and decadent, none of that Hershey's bullshit, think Ghirardelli. Take a couple ounces of it and heat it up in your imagination until it's boiling and starting to smell really good, maybe a little past good and into starting to get burned around the edges of the pan. Then stir in a couple of spoonfuls of cocoa powder. Yeah, like that. That's good. Keep adding cocoa powder until it refuses to blend in any more and starts getting kind of grainy. Add a teaspoonful of hot milk, pour and serve.
The reaction. I feel a little ill.
My wife, throwing up into her hand.
My cat, wondering, is something burnt in there?
My wife refused to take more than two sips, so I just downed the rest of it like a cup of hard liquor. It tastes okay at first, then you're beat upside the head by how thick it is. It coats the inside of the cup. You think you're done because the cup is empty, but wait. It's like a shampoo bottle, turn it upside down and wait long enough and you'll get another swallow worth. (Not that I drink shampoo. It's just a metaphor.)
It's so bad. So seriously bad. Don't get it. If you happen to be in line and somebody orders it, slap them and say, "What are you, a fucking idiot? Haven't you HEARD?! Don't you read Captain Of The Internet Dot Com?"
Epilogue
I thought I was done with this post, but now I feel like I should report that I'm feeling strangely happy just twenty minutes later. A little too happy. Actually, I feel like I'm floating and it makes me wonder if I'm going to have anxiety issues in a few minutes. This is likely due to the obscenely high levels of endorphins my brain is currently bathing in from the concentrated cocoa powder. This stuff is like dark chocolate's grizzly uncle with the gimpy leg and four DUIs under its belt.
Another ten minutes in, I still feel simultaneously ill, anxious, and floating. Blah.
I never imagined that there would be special effects involved.
Ten minutes later (forty minutes after ingestion), I'm okay. Just a little headachey and hungry. What was that? I eat chocolate all the time, it's not like I'm a three year-old.
What a wash.
(This article was originally conceived for CaptainOfTheInternet.com, earlier today.)
Considering that it was I that broke the scoop to you on the new Starbucks drink almost two weeks before it was actually introduced to the employees at your local Starbucks (much less the public), it was important that I try the fucking thing and tell you if it was crap or not. Well, I've tried it and... well, I'll tell you later, why ruin the suspense?
Today, 7:45PM.
Starbucks was quiet and for once, deserted. My cashier, a hard-rocker with buck teeth and bad stringy hair, couldn't find Chantico on the cash register. After apologizing twice, he grew flustered and had to call the barista on duty over to help him. She didn't know where it was on the menu either (in spite of it being on sale for over a week now). I felt an ominous shadow drift over me. I knew it was crap. Nobody's been ordering the damn thing while this guy has been on shift, in spite of it being on the menu in a category all of its own, in spite of the big floor length display out by the line, in spite of there being a big sign about it on the wall. Not only that, both of them pronounced it differently too, like they were unsure whether it's CHAN-tee-ko (like I pronounced it) or Chantico (all at once and rhyming with burrito).
I also ordered a grande hot chocolate, and a grande pumpkin spice blended creme frappuchino without whip for my wife. Her drink is seriously good and possibly the best drink they serve, but it's about to be expired now that the Holidays are over and it's off the menu. Actually, the creme version of the drink that my wife orders was never on the menu in the first place, just the coffee version, and that one tastes like perfume.
When delivering my drinks, the barista called out in spite of me being the only person waiting, "Chantico! Err.. drinking chocolate --" and smirked. That was a fucking smirk, I'm sure of it.
Then she took a good long look at it on the counter.
I walked home wondering what the smirk was about. Was it because it had a stupid name? Was it because it was chocolate steamed with whole milk and cocoa butter, a bonified saturated-fat sundae? Was it because she's tried it and thought it was nasty as sin?
Chantico at home, next to a grande hot chocolate,
my computer, video game packages, and a stack of index cards.
The presentation was nice. It looks like hot chocolate.
The first taste.
Continuing the review, you're going to need to use your imagination as I can't obviously reach out of the screen and hand you your own Chantico to drink. Are you ready?
Imagine chocolate syrup, rich and decadent, none of that Hershey's bullshit, think Ghirardelli. Take a couple ounces of it and heat it up in your imagination until it's boiling and starting to smell really good, maybe a little past good and into starting to get burned around the edges of the pan. Then stir in a couple of spoonfuls of cocoa powder. Yeah, like that. That's good. Keep adding cocoa powder until it refuses to blend in any more and starts getting kind of grainy. Add a teaspoonful of hot milk, pour and serve.
The reaction. I feel a little ill.
My wife, throwing up into her hand.
My cat, wondering, is something burnt in there?
My wife refused to take more than two sips, so I just downed the rest of it like a cup of hard liquor. It tastes okay at first, then you're beat upside the head by how thick it is. It coats the inside of the cup. You think you're done because the cup is empty, but wait. It's like a shampoo bottle, turn it upside down and wait long enough and you'll get another swallow worth. (Not that I drink shampoo. It's just a metaphor.)
It's so bad. So seriously bad. Don't get it. If you happen to be in line and somebody orders it, slap them and say, "What are you, a fucking idiot? Haven't you HEARD?! Don't you read Captain Of The Internet Dot Com?"
Epilogue
I thought I was done with this post, but now I feel like I should report that I'm feeling strangely happy just twenty minutes later. A little too happy. Actually, I feel like I'm floating and it makes me wonder if I'm going to have anxiety issues in a few minutes. This is likely due to the obscenely high levels of endorphins my brain is currently bathing in from the concentrated cocoa powder. This stuff is like dark chocolate's grizzly uncle with the gimpy leg and four DUIs under its belt.
Another ten minutes in, I still feel simultaneously ill, anxious, and floating. Blah.
I never imagined that there would be special effects involved.
Ten minutes later (forty minutes after ingestion), I'm okay. Just a little headachey and hungry. What was that? I eat chocolate all the time, it's not like I'm a three year-old.
What a wash.
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
madi:
Happy valentines!!! 
ladyelmo:
Starbucks make gorg strawberries and cream frappuccino but the one in the centre of Sheffield forgot to get the permission from the council to use the building as a coffee house! Not sure if they've been allowed to keep it there but they are opening up another one in town now.