A small glass of deep violet liquid, offset by tiny white bubbles, dancing in effervescence. The taste is syrupy and sweet, unabashedly artificial in its grape flavor, with a slight hint of the familiar fruit essence. Exploding carbonation intensifies the taste…
I’ve got “Moxie” of my own. It’s called “Foxon Park.”
I grew up in Connecticut in the 1970s and my parents didn’t drink soda. Not only did I never pine for it- I disliked it.
There was one exception to this rule. When we went out for Pepe’s pizza (the religion of choice in my family), I was allowed a bottle of Foxon Park Grape soda, the taste of which was perfectly suited to the pizza. In my young opinion, it was in a class of its own- and incomparable to Welch’s.
Foxon Park is a cultural institution in Connecticut, infused with nostalgia. My love of the soda is not only about its taste, it’s about seeing my great Aunt Chris drink a glass of Foxon Park strawberry soda at the kitchen table. It’s about hearing my father describe the delivery of Foxon Park seltzer bottles to his house when he was little, and the spray fights that ensued.
I also love the fact that the 80-year-old company is still a family-owned and -run business. And those 12oz bottles are still glass. The soda labels and website now brag: “Made with 100% Real sugar.”
With age, my preference has shifted from Grape to White Birch Beer (which I enjoyed as recently as this past Thursday at Pepe’s, of course). I do still occasionally buy a bottle of Grape, for old time’s sake.
Some taste are timeless. Whether it is Grape or White Birch, Foxon Park stays close to my stomach, and my heart. And although I still don’t drink soda, I do drink Foxon Park.