So where does the name come from anyway?  In 1835, Texas, then a province of Mexico, sat on the brink of revolution.  As tensions rose, Mexico thought it best to reclaim a loaned cannon from the town of Gonzalez.  The town refused to return the weapon and, in defiance, rose a white flag with a painting of the cannon and emblazoned with the now immortal words, “COME AND TAKE IT.”

This moment holds a special place in the hearts of Texans even today and shirts, stickers and tattoos of the flag are common.  It’s that spirit of resistance that gave rise to the Republic of Texas for which the Lone Star means independence.

While the story behind the name is one of legend, the story behind the brand is not.

In Lewisville, Texas sits North Texas Distillers, the creator of 1835 The Lone Star and 16 other brands of spirit, 10 of which are vodkas.  Where are they all coming from?  Lone Star doesn’t have its own distillery or its own offices.  It doesn’t even have its own webpage.  So, what’s the story behind Lone Star?  If the ginger beer is any clue, it’s possible that it’s not much more than a wrapper.

The can will tell you the drink originates in Pilot Point, Texas, a tiny speck north of Dallas with less than 5000 people.  That’s the home of the Western Son vodka distillery.  Western Son crafts their own ginger beer too—previously reviewed—right there in town.  The highly distinctive ingredient list—consisting of rarities like high fructose corn syrup, caramel coloring and several additives and preservatives—sticks in the memory for its unusual nature.  It was a surprise to see it repeated on the side of the Lone Star can.

The can itself lacks inspiration, unlike the name.  A black field surrounds a grunge-framed white rectangle.  The logo floats within, comprised of a condensed western font.  A lone bronze star sits awkwardly in the lower right.  The design holds little presence and looks a bit budget, quite different from Western Son’s striking use of type—which is important because this is Western Son Ginger Beer in a different can.  No, not even a different can since the design is actually printed upon a plastic wrap hugging the can.  The liquid fills each blank can in a long train.  Then the cans get wrapped in livery based on however many of each are needed.

The Western Son review contains all the information but here’s a quick summary.  The darkly colored liquid holds a whopping 225 calories and tastes of sweet ginger and citrus.  It’s tart and tangy.  The development though is static, with little change in the experience throughout the progression.  There’s also the unfortunate (though mild) sensation of syrup pressing down on the tongue.  So while the flavor is nice, the texture isn’t. 

This ginger beer sees a much narrower distribution than its accompanying vodka so acquiring it isn’t easy.  That means stumbling across it is rare so it’s probably worth picking up to try it.  However it’s likely that adjacent to it rests another, more familiar selection that might prove a tastier choice.  Stick with what you know or go on an adventure: that decision is yours.

Final Decision: Third Tier – Enjoyable

Purchased locally at: Spec’s

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Eventually Rackensperger moved to a better location and launched a new root beer.  Acceleration: the business soared as their new concoction flew off shelves and soon it became available nationally.  With the windfall Rackensperger bought up competitors and restaurants.

40 years after its inception Frostie was sold and it bounced around until the current owner, Detroit’s Intrastate Distributors, bought it in 2009.  Though it no longer enjoys the success of its heyday, Frostie root beer can be found easily across the nation.  Their ginger beer though is a little bit harder to find.

Their winter-themed label highlights this clear, 12oz, heritage-style bottle.  Interlocking triangles of alternating shades of green make up the background while the snow-capped, 50’s-style logo features up front.  Longtime mascot, the earmuffed elf, leans in just behind while a barrel — clear to let the liquid show through — sits just below.  It is retro through-and-through and nods to the origin of their famous root beer.

To carbonated water and cane sugar is added the ambiguous “natural flavor” and citric acid.  Sodium benzoate keeps it shelf-stable while quillaia extract piles on a little extra foam.  Tally them together and the sum is a whopping 200 calories for the bottle.

As can be seen through the glass, the liquid is light-colored and opaque with no trace of sediment.  Generous fizz generates when poured and in the glass it gives off the scent of ginger and substantial sweetness.  Those hints on the nose are dead-on as sweet hits right off the bat.  Ginger rushes in quickly, heat tagging along.  The abundant sweetness builds and builds as a touch of tart joins in for the climax.  There’s a burst of sugary sweetness before fading into the finish, accompanied by a subtle ginger.  Prickles jig upon the tongue, the residuals of a hefty heat.

While there’s nothing outlandish about it, Frostie does take a chance with its sweetness.  This is a sweet-forward ginger beer, likely too sweet for some, but the considerable heat attempts to balance it.  Both are above-average which imparts an intensity to the flavor.  This take on the formula can be called bold and interesting but the sweetness is ultimately a bit much.

Final Decision: Third Tier – Enjoyable

Purchased at: Beverages Direct | Also available online at: Antiqology, Soda4u, Specialty Sodas.

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With the renewed interest in the Moscow Mule, demand for ginger beer skyrocketed and visionary distillers like Western Son saw an opportunity to not only expand their bottom line but to showcase the spirit they’d worked so hard to create.  Enter Western Son Texas Ginger Beer.

The can design (printed on a plastic wrap and not directly on the can itself) builds off the branding of their vodka bottles with its bold type on a field the color of aged paper.  It gives the impression of an Old West wanted poster and catches, holds the eye.  Black rings the lower third of the can, providing a pleasing contrast.  Around back, the reason the drink exists is made plain.  It’s the recipe for a “Western Mule,” consisting of Western Son vodka and Western Son ginger beer. 

The uninspiring ingredient list also graces the back of the can.  Anything delectable sits locked behind the amorphous “natural flavors” while preservatives and additives get spelled out.  The list includes sodium benzoate, potassium sorbate, gum acacia and ester gum.  While sporting a couple of these is common, seeing them all is unusual.  What’s even rarer is the use of high fructose corn syrup as the sweetener.  A review encountered it only one other time.  Also present, caramel color richens the presentation.  Water and citric acid round out the list, which amounts to 150 calories for an 8oz serving, a staggering 225 for the 12oz can.

As expected, the liquid appears darker than most ginger beers with what seems to be a fine sediment suspended within it, not floating but locked in place.  Few bubbles ascend during the pour.  The nose detects a light ginger with a hint of citrus.  Tasting, a flash of sweetness precedes the almost immediate arrival of ginger and citrus.  A constant undercurrent of sweetness runs beneath the floating haze of the ginger.  The sharpness of the citrus is pronounced but not overpowering.  There’s a mild syrupy quality laying upon the tongue.  Heat never arrives.  The finish offers more of the same, tart and ginger running parallel.

Overall there’s not much of a progression.  What it is in the beginning is what it is in the middle is what it is in the end.  Other ginger beers play a bit more in the mouth but this is content to sit still.  The balance though between the ginger and citrus sets it apart.  It’s perfectly tuned and the two flavors complement each other well.  The energy here comes from the tang but it could use a touch of heat and a bit more carbonation to really make it dance. 

The mouthfeel is odd too.  The thick feeling pressing upon the tongue gives the sensation of drinking a flat soda.  It’s mild though and not a huge issue.  The citrus and ginger mostly make up for the concerns but that 225 calories equal a steep price for a flawed treat.  One of these is enjoyable but one of these is enough.

Final Decision: Third Tier – Enjoyable

Purchased locally at: Spec’s

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On their current roster of products sits their 225-calorie Jamaican Ginger Beer, rooted in triple-filtered carbonated water and sweetened with high fructose corn syrup.  Natural and artificial flavors come together to provide taste, including Jamaican ginger extract.  Brominated vegetable oil swims within as an agent keeping the liquid from separating.  More promising-sounding ingredient lists exist yet this ginger beer is not to be discounted.

The label hugging this 12-ounce, heritage-style bottle lacks appealing design.  It’s dull in color, suffers gaping leading between “JAMAICAN” and “GINGER BEER,” and the mascot lacks charisma.  It looks budget, unable to inspire confidence in the quality of the product inside.

On the tongue the ginger hits almost immediately, feeling as a vapor, floating on the carbonation to brush up against every part of the mouth.  A deep sweetness drifts down the tongue as spices tickle the tip.  Gentle prickles linger there and at the back of the mouth.  They hang on through the finish.

Deep layers of flavor don’t exist here.  Neither is there a drawn out progression to it but complexity isn’t synonymous with good. The modest heat plays well with the generous sweetness.  Both mesh with a selection of background flavors and plenty of ginger to form a traditional Jamaican ginger beer that’s anything but standard.  Never mind the label.  Never mind the ingredients.  This brew far exceeds expectations.

Final Decision: First Tier – Exceptional

Purchased locally at: HEB

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Barritts (no apostrophe) Bermuda Stone Ginger Beer is a carbonated-water-based offering which features a few puzzling ingredients like the natural extract of quillaia bark and neutral cloud, which probably refused to take a side in WWII.  The label goes on to say it’s flavored with natural and artificial ginger but you’ll find no sediment to tump.  Sugar is the sweetener of choice here and a touch of caramel coloring made the cut as well.

You can have it in a bottle of assorted sizes, or even a can if you’re tubing the river.  Mine was a 12oz glass bottle, clear as day so you can see the near-white color of the drink—an enjoyable detail.  The background color of the label is evocative of the copper mug you’d find your Moscow Mule served in.  The design is not overly done, featuring what I presume is an ancient logo, but the typeface for GINGER BEER is ghastly.

Barritts will cost you a pretty stout 200 calories.  Though if that’s too much a diet version is available—which we’ll get into in a later post.

When tasting, a rich sweetness overlays the ginger flavor which lacks the depth given by fresh root.  Taking place almost entirely on the mid-tongue, the flavor is simple, hitting all at once, and a bit one-note.  Carbonation level is on the milder side of moderate, enough to bubble up your drink a bit when using it as a mixer.  You’ll find little if any heat here, making it easy to drink but lacking the punch of a stronger variety.

If your preference is for extra sweet ginger beers with no heat, this is one for you.  My desires don’t follow that path as I’m a fan of spiciness and found it a bit too sugary.  It’s worth trying for sure and there’s certainly a fan base for it.  Personally I’d call it average but would be comfortable recommending it to the right kind of person.  Any drink that’s been around as long as this one certainly has something going for it.

Final Decision: Third Tier – Enjoyable

Purchased locally at: Spec’s  |  Also available locally at: Total Wine | Online availability at: Antiqology, Beverages Direct (in 6-pack bottles, 12-pack bottles and 12-pack cans), Soda Emporium (in singles, 4-packs and a case), Soda Pop Stop

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