Kola Champagne is the platypus of soda pop.
Ever try to make sense of a venomous, duck-billed, otter-bodied, goose-footed, beaver-tailed, egg-laying mammal? That’s how I feel in the face of Kola Champagne. Even now, after 25 years of consistently drinking the beverage, I can’t give you a matter-of-fact description of what it truly is.
I know that Cheerwine tastes like cherries. Tahitian Treat tastes like fruit punch, and Sprite’s a hybrid of lemon and lime. It’s not as crystal clear with Kola Champagne.
Is it giving hints of cream soda, only less “creamy”? Am I wrong for detecting subtle notes of butterscotch? Would you believe me if I told you there were some undertones of Hubba Bubba bubble gum?
Firstly, it’s not the “Kola” we’ve been gastronomically groomed to accept, whether R.C. Cola or Pepsi-Cola. It’s not the Detroit-born Faygo Cola, or the cheaper-than-cheap Shasta Cola that seemed to be sloshing around at almost every cookout I’ve ever attended. And it’s certainly not the godfather of all kolas: Coca-Cola.
Secondly, it’s not the “champagne” that we toast with on New Year’s Eve after some fake-poignant speech. Nor is it the “champagne” you almost amputated your hand trying to “saber” like a St. Regis Hotel employee, and it’s certainly not the “Champagne” that Formula One driver Lewis Hamilton sprayed after winning his first Monaco Grand Prix.
In fact, although there’s citric acid, carbonated water, natural flavors, artificial flavors, Yellow No. 6, caramel color, and sodium benzoate in the bottle, there’s not a drop of booze in Kola Champagne.
My history with the soft drink goes back to at least 1999. I was 11 years old when my father took me to his Jamaican friend Tony Bailey’s restaurant, Enchanted Garden on Carolina Beach Road in Wilmington. North Carolina. I ordered jerk chicken, and it changed my life forever.
Not only is Scotch bonnet the name of North Carolina’s official state seashell, it’s also the name of the pepper that gives jerk chicken its notoriously lip-numbing, yet nuanced heat. It felt like a volcano had erupted in my mouth with chicken-flavored lava. My father scooted me a bottle of Kola Champagne to extinguish the inferno and I’ve been hooked ever since.
Yes! My first taste of Kola Champagne was in a Jamaican restaurant. No! It’s not Jamaican.
Nope. In the same way that their potentially poisonous national dish, ackee and saltfish, has roots in Ghana and Nova Scotia, and their beloved curry goat came from India in the company of indentured servants, Kola Champagne is not indigenous to Jamaica. The soft drink was created 700 miles east on the isle of Puerto Rico. Lore says Spanish-American war veteran Ángel Rivera Mendez sold it at El Polo Norte Fábrica de Sodas, which he opened in 1902 at 261 Calle Tetuán in the “Viejo” district of San Juan.
That (slightly crumbling) building still stands on a sliver of cobblestone street. The ornate tilework in canary yellow, indigo, and pastel blue that dominates its facade features intricate images, such as a polar bear in a butler’s jacket and a bottle of Kola Champagne.
Other brands of Kola Champagne splashed through the tropics of Latin America: India, Good O, and Santurce duke it out with a brand simply called “OK” for soft drink supremacy in its birthplace. In Colombia, there’s Colombiana La Nuestra and Ambassador. There are at least half a dozen other brands that live in obscurity on the shelves of bodegas and tiendas, including in El Salvador, where they sometimes spell it “Kolashampan” and have brands such as Cuzcatlan, La Cascada, and Rio Grande.
For the record, I haven’t spoken with a single Jamaican who can offer up any explanation as to how it got to Jamaica and become so popular.
Don’t get me wrong. The sparkling grapefruit beverage known as Ting is still king. Yet a trip to any Jamaican spot without Kola Champagne is a lackluster experience, same as how a visit to my favorite taqueria would be diminished if there wasn’t any Jarritos, at least the mango-flavored one. As a matter of fact, I’d rather a Jamaican spot run out of oxtails than Kola Champagne.
At this point in my life, I’ve stopped trying to describe Kola Champagne.
Instead, I always keep at least one bottle in the back of the fridge, behind the half-full jar of blue cheese-stuffed olives, pitcher of grape Kool Aid, carton of neglected portobello mushrooms, a lonely can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and plastic to-go container of egg foo young gravy that I always claim I’ll repurpose, but never do.
Rather than going down a rabbit hole of what Kola Champagne is, or isn’t, or could be, I hand over the bottle. That look of befuddled amazement will never get old.
Excellent article… Kola champagne is a quirky soda and its creamy and refreshing
Love this! I love Jamaican cream soda. There a superior taste also.
Great read learned a lot about the culture of the Champagne of kola‼️
Yes that is definitely the soda of champions. It pairs well with just about anything especially Caribbean cuisine. I enjoyed the article and learned a little more about the best soda ever. I prefer D&G over all the other brands.
Well, I’d describe it as tasting like a cream soda dum-dum lollipop, not cream soda, just the lollipop flavor, just less sweet, the only soda i can’t describe is moxie, love the stuff, but can’t put a finger on it.