bubly Sparkling Water Reviews

Bubly’s a little hit or miss for us here at the Bubbleverse.  While some of their flavors are standouts, or even unique in the field (like the Blackberry), others leave us unimpressed.  

This one left us dreading having to finish the can.

Cherry is a flavor that’s been around for a looong time.   Who hasn’t suffered through decades of cherrytrosities?  Candy, medicine, soda: while most are terrible, in our opinion, there have been some standouts along the way, like Cherry Poptarts and Wild Cherry Pepsi.  

We guess we’re taking this trip down memory lane because the bubly cherry just took us back to 1987 and the launch of Cherry Nyquil.

Tasting Notes

The cough syrup is strong in the nose.  The cute little poptab says “heyo” when what it really means to say is: time to take your medicine.

The first notes are also awash in this medicinal vibe.  We mentioned Wild Cherry Pepsi up there, and we have fond memories of destroying our teeth with bottle after bottle of WCP in highschool.  Which makes this all the more weird and tragic, because bubly is actually made by Pepsico.  They had the secret key to the cherry kingdom in 1988!   And then, apparently, threw it all away in 2020.

Blessedly, the Nyquil flavor fades quickly, but what it leaves in its wake is sheer bitterness, both on the tongue and in the soul.  Just a thin, watery bitterness that takes too long to fade away.

There’s really nothing else we can say about this one.  Other than that the color of the can is pretty ugly, too.

You can stop reading here, and head over to the Waterloo Black Cherry, which is actually amazing.  

Or maybe you’re one of the apparently millions of people that like this type of artificial cherry flavor (it has to be popular right?  Or why are they so ubiquitous?) and this review so far has you salivating.

But we’re going to take the rest of this time to talk about cherry flavor, because this travesty at least piqued our curiosity about why it’s so damn difficult to get right.

Actually, first, we just had a chilling thought: what if this IS the same flavor that’s in WCP, but it’s just overwhelmed by the high-fructose cola onslaught?  It’s sad to watch your heroes die.

What is Cherry Flavor?

Anyway: the molecule most responsible for cherry flavor in the United States since the 19th century is benzaldehyde.  Which is fascinating, because benzaldehyde is better known as “bitter almond oil.”  In fact, in Europe, benzaldehyde is not used in cherry flavor because of the cultural associations of the taste of benzaldehyde with the taste of almonds.  Where Americans taste cherries, Europeans are more likely to taste almonds.

But benzaldehyde is definitely present in cherries: in the pit.  At some point, the American idea of cherry was more closely intertwined with bitter wild cherries and cherry liquor, which have significantly more benzaldehyde than the Bings and Raniers that we know and love today.

The more you know 💫.

Bubly Cranberry wasn’t really on our radar the way, say, Pamplemousse, or any AHA is. Maybe it’s the combo of feeling like Cranberry should be a seasonal offering only, and within the realm of seasonal offerings, should be relegated to a brand that can deftly execute subtly and seasonality. Like Ugly did with their epic Candy Cane. Or maybe it’s because we willfully try and ignore bubly most of the time. 🤷🏻‍♀️

But inevitably, we’ve rotated the usual Commodity Brands in and out of our fridge for a few months, and we’re looking for something different, something we’ve overlooked, and our eyeballs settle upon a box of bubly Cranberry. We sigh in resignation. Fine, we say. Hop on in the cart.

And that cran-can is eager. “aw hi” it proclaims on the pop tab. Adorable how PepsiCo is trying to get all cutesy after it just steamrolled a small AAPI functional beverage company by leveraging its infinite budget for lawyering up. We see you, Pepsi.

We can’t say we’re entirely eager to give our money to Pepsi’s waterchild, bubly. In fact, the whole bullying small businesses thing kinda made us want to not have bubly on our hallowed homepage ever again, but when you have such a Massive Platform like the Bubbleverse (lol), it’s your duty to talk sh*t about them, and shade their mediocre sparkling waters every chance you can get. 🗣🖕🏻

So here we are.

When we first pop the “aw hi”, something candied wafts up, almost like a scented holiday potpourri. Exactly the kind of “cranberry” note we’d expect from bubly, but with the loudness of an AHA flavor. It’s dumb and intriguing at the same time. We don’t hate it.

Tasting Notes

🍂 🎉

Okay here’s the deal: Pepsi, also-ran to Coke, purveyor of Super Bowl Halftime shows, passable sparkling waters, and all-around Evil Empire, somehow managed to pull off something elegant and festive here. Something refreshing enough to be a year round drink, yet also something specific enough to capture the feeling of glooping a can-shaped wiggling mass of cranberry sauce onto a plate festooned with autumn leaves.

It’s light. It’s not like drinking an Ocean Spray or anything (who, btw, has their own sparkling cranberry beverage). The bubly cranberry has just enough flavor to evoke the cran, without feeling like you’ve committed yourself to wading through a cranberry bog for the duration of the can.  It’s also not as holiday-esque as Good & Gather’s Cranberry Citrus or as flavorful as the LaCroix CranRazz.  Bubly sticks to the subtle, straight-up cranberry, instead of trying to get fancy with other flavors.  Or really, much of any flavor at all, in true bubly fashion.

But whereas most bublies come across as weak and under-flavored, the level of cranberry in this one is pretty much perfect.  This may or may not be intentional: cranberry is such a potent flavor (have you ever tried drinking pure cranberry juice??) that bubly’s traditional under-flavoring technique actually works in their favor with this one.

Now when we say that this is good, we’re still grading on the bubly curve. It’s not like Aura Bora levels of thoughtfulness and artistry. It’s not a deep dive into the nuances of a single fruit, like the waters of Waterloo. But for a brand that all too often tastes like the dregs of creativity and tapped-out syrup canisters, this actually demonstrates thoughtfulness and a modicum of flavor prowess.

And the finish captures the light bitterness of the cranberry, but we’re once again not entirely sure that’s a credit to bubly and not just an accident. All bublies seem to carry that bitter, citric acid finish, perhaps a literal expression of Pepsi’s bitter, corporate heart.

“Joined at the sip,” the cran can whispers to us.

“No thank you,” we reply.

Just because you pleasantly surprised us doesn’t mean we trust you and your shady corporate tactics. 🤨 bubly’s adorable greetings feel a bit like little Trojan horses, trying to lower our defenses in order to plunder our hearts and wallets.

We’ll see if we’ll still be “joined at the sip” if Ugly ever offers their own seasonal Cranberry.

Have you ever read up on the history of limes?  You probably haven’t, which is ok, neither had we. 

We always just assumed limes were always some kind of vaguely ubiquitous tropical fixture around the world.  Which they are now, but turns out they originated in the area around northern India, Myanmar, and Malaysia. 

They were brought to the Middle East by Arab traders, and then brought to Europe by Crusaders.

That’s right, limebubly was effectively brought to you by a Holy War, and we guess we can lump it in with all the other atrocities committed during the crusades.

Look, we’re sorry, bubly.  We actually really love your Blackberry, and your Mango hangs in there with the best.  But first the Cherry, and now this?  What is going on over at Pepsico? 

We have to guess that there is some kind of schismatic battle happening, with one branch of devout fruitarians adhering to the sanctity of flavor, and another, heathen sect bent on destroying all that is good in the bubbleverse.

The nose on this one is actually promising, a juicy lime evoking those flat green lollipops in the square plastic cellophane.  (Are those still around?)

Tasting Notes

🚰

The lollipops are certainly not anywhere to be found in this can.  The pop tab says “oh hi” when what it really means to say is “oh, I forgot to put any flavor at all in here.”

Or rather, there is a flavor, and it’s tap water.  Slightly chlorinated, maybe containing some “lime” (as in the mineral, not the fruit.)  But nothing citrus, nothing green, nothing else. 

Ok, maybe there’s the slightest, slightest hint of something lime-like sloshing around in there, like some citric acid leaked into the municipal water supply and a few molecules made it into the can.  But even this only serves to create a bitter aftertaste.  Repeated sips have us alternating between confusion and disgust. 

Even the carbonation is weak.  Maybe we got a bad can or something, but we’re not going to try again with another round.

The can genially announces “I feel like I can be open around you”. Oh, bubly. Maybe you should stay closed on this one.

The chipper, cheery branding that encapsulates all of bubly’s sparkling water is a friendly hello, but with this flavor we just want to wave goodbye. 👋🏻

If you’re a lime person, what you really want is Waterloo’s Lime, or better yet, their Lemon-Lime.

Go now and don’t look back.  This is atrocious.  Really. 

There’s something about Bubly Sparkling Water that just feels like we’re being forced to embrace them as The Next Big Thing.

From the pop tab that says “haayy”, to the lolling tongue emblazoned on the side of the can, to the ill-advised “love at first phssst” floating in a bubble, it just all smacks of trying a little too hard to be adorable and likeable.

This branding might be the Nicole Scherzinger of sparkling waters: pretty, and perhaps demonstrating aplomb in the field, but can you please just stop shoving them down our throats?

Like the Pussycat Dolls, bubly is the sparkling water pop star that the world Pepsi keeps trying to make happen.

But is bubly happening?

Well, we can assure you that their Cherry and Lime flavors are certainly not. And their packaging veers into the twee and aggressively off-putting, much like the palatable pop-star-that-almost-could, but is possibly just a lesser amalgam of brighter stars/bubblers in the pop world/bubbleverse.

Eventually, maybe the heavy-handed full court press will subside, and bubly will settle into their less glamorous role as a reality TV show talent show (sparkling water) judge, and the hype and “hey girl hey” branding will take a seat.

Until then, let’s have a drink, shall we?

Because we’ll admit: we’re big fans of bubly’s Blackberry, and we’re always ready to embrace a delicious sparkling water, even if it’s the spawn of the Dark Despot of High Fructose Corn Syrup and Tone Deaf Advertising, PepsiCo. We do tip our caps to your ingenious idea of creating flavors for SodaStream. You’re an unstoppable juggernaut, and we see you.

But ok, let’s sniff you, too!

Once we’re done rolling our eyes all the way to the astral plane at the cutesy “haaay” on the pop tab again, we have to admit we really like the nose on this.

This is real, freshly peeled mango, mouth-watering aromas wafting from your cutting board.

But then again, we are still traumatized by whatever foul machinations were at play with their Cherry and Lime flavorings, so we gird our mouth loins as we prepare for our first sip.

Tasting Notes

🥭💛🍓❓

There are few greater joys in life than entering with low expectations and leaving pleasantly surprised, which is how we embarked on our first sip.

bubly mango is satisfying and refreshing! There’s a crisp and bright quality to this flavor that makes us keep wanting to come back for more.

The mango in this can is riiiiiiipe mango. This mango hangs heavy on the branch, swaying juicy and sweet in the breeze.

Here’s the thing that bubly does, and which makes or breaks their various flavors: they condense multi-faceted fruits into one-dimensional caricatures of themselves. If you’ve ever eaten a fruit, you know that there’s all kinds of things that happen in your mouth: earthy sweetness, citric sourness, planty bitterness.

Bubly takes that wild fruit cacophony and picks only the most basic aspect to highlight in their flavors. Which sometimes works, often doesn’t. But with the mango, it definitely does.

This is a sunny, balmy day in Costa Rica with a fresh breeze. A hot summer day punctuated by a stop at the sliced mango street cart.

A trip to Whole Foods where the shelves are finally restocked with your favorite sparkling water that’s been out for a while: apprehension and preemptive defeat have melted into peace and harmony. Frown upside down. Even your tongue is lolling out in an annoying but somewhat cute way.

This lacks the delicious tartness of the real deal, but maybe that’s how we prefer our mangoes, your mango prefs might tend towards the sweet side.  In which case, this is the one for you.

And it finishes with some unforeseen, but genuinely delightful, strawberry notes. Maybe it’s just us imagining this? But maybe it’s some universal harmonic at play, as mango and strawberry are delicious bedfellows.

You win this round, Pepsi! We’ll crank some “Buttons”, sip some bubly, and succumb to whatever The Machine wants us to consume.

At least for today.

Here we go down another can of bubly, Pepsi’s bubblin’ baby in their relentless foray into the seltzer world.

A foray that we suspect is motivated by the ever-expanding financial possibilities of sparkling water universe, because let’s be honest, everyone wants a piece of that billion dollar LaCroix pie. Bubly is not here to create non-GMO, herbal greatness like Dram or Aura Bora.

So, sadly, we continually feel a bit cynical about bubly’s arrival onto the scene.

You know how sometimes you hear a song, and you think to yourself, “Why does this song exist?” This clearly took effort to record and produce, and yet…why. This has added nothing to the canon or the conversation. Why did someone bother?

Much like a mediocre song, there is something about bubly’s flavors that always feel like an afterthought.

But maybe this raspberry will be different. We hope, because hope springs eternal for us bubblenauts. We’re always willing to try with bubly, again and again.

So we pick up the can and read the pop tab that says “ayyy”. We think they mean it to sound like “heeyyy”, but you might also interpret that as “AY!” like you’ve touched something hot or horrible, jumping away as quickly as possible, as if you’ve suddenly realized it’s the bubly Cherry or Lime in your hand.

But Raspberry starts off much more promising! The nose gives us candy raspberry, and it’s not bad. There’s a genuine full, cartoonish fruitiness to it that we would recognize anywhere as Raspberry. This is a solid and intriguing start. We can’t think of another sparkling water that has quite this note.

Tasting Notes

So now we plunge in, like a dagger through the heart.  And lo and behold, by the pricking of our thumbs, some Capital R Raspberry this way comes.

(You know it was only a matter of time before we got Shakespearean. We’ve already forced some British Romantics down your throat, so why stop there? If you think this site is ultimately just us working out some AP English angst, you’re right. And this bubly Raspberry sort of takes us there.)

Bubly is never the most complex flavor out there, but they do always manage to execute One Solid Note of whatever fruit they’re doing, and the note they choose is usually fruit-forward and ripe. We like it. There is something unique and delectable about the raspberry that they’ve conjured.

The bugaboo here is that the bright buoyant raspberry dissolves, almost immediately, into thin, reedy acidity, leaving you with chalky, Flintstone vitamin vibes, as you wonder what happened to the berry you were so excited about.

We realize that in the real world raspberries lead problematically fleeting existences. They are the quickest fruit to decay, and if you don’t pound those Driscolls in a day, you’re gonna be left with a sad, mushy moldberry in your fridge. Maybe this is the experience bubly was going for?

Because here’s the dilemma with this bubly: like a star-crossed love, the promise of sweet, summer berry is gone too soon.  The tragedy of an ill-fated plan to have a satisfying raspberry experience, replaced with sinister chemical aftertaste.

We’ve noticed that, with the exception of the bubly Blackberry, which is one of our favorite commodity brands to keep stocked on the shelves, Bubly loses its flavors pretty quickly, and we are often left swirling on citric acid or whatever the aromatics become as our Raspberry Ophelia drowns.

Now: we don’t hate this. But we start with optimism, hoping that the love we feel for this candied gem is going to end in happiness. We’re committed to the can, even though we know in this first act where this is heading: Tragedy.

In the words of Shakespeare, soliloquized by the doomed Macbeth:

“It is a sparkling water sold by a giant soda company, full of promises and citric acid,
Signifying nothing.”