Flat, by-the-numbers, within-the-lines chocolate milk flavor that benefits from its 2% base enough to crest the Mendoza line. It looks pretty and won’t challenge you for better or worse— perhaps the ideal mate for some.
Flat, by-the-numbers, within-the-lines chocolate milk flavor that benefits from its 2% base enough to crest the Mendoza line. It looks pretty and won’t challenge you for better or worse— perhaps the ideal mate for some.
Sucking the candy shell off of a single M&M would give you a much more intense chocolaty experience. It’s smooth, almost ‘slick’— and the uniquely sharp malt flavor is both arresting and distracting.
They’ve done well to make cocoa the raison d’être, as all other attributes play their supporting role with competence, altruism, and grace. It feels substantial, yet lithe, and the noticeable amount of chalk knows not to linger.
As with Grace Harbor Farms, I like what I taste here, but just couldn’t get the cream to incorporate, even with super-vigorous shaking and manual stirring (I don’t have a blender). You’re either forced to chew some cream chunks (I’m not opposed) or ignore them and drink a super-thin, cream-deficient junior varsity version of what it could be.
You won’t find a better potable version of cookies & cream— the essence of a chocolate sandwich cookie is perfectly captured, and not caricatured (as in many other formulations out there). If you’ve ever dreamt of drinking an entire sleeve of Oreos, this is your calling.
Punchy flavor swaddled in warmly creamy raiment: this kind of experience is everything one could hope to find on a worldwide chocolate milk odyssey! Expertly negotiates the balance of being indulgently satisfying, yet still leaving you wanting more. Much more.
Delicious from first sip to navel-gazing repose; it’s evident that great care went into the cocoa profile, both in the flavor and how to maintain its presence throughout the experience. The powerful cocoa flavor leaves an ephemeral chalky footprint— one that you’ll want to follow back to the fridge time and time again.
Cherry flavor rings in early and often throughout the sip, but careful attention has been paid to the sweetness level which remains muted but competently supportive— preventing a ‘candified’ mockery of the rare (in chocolate milk) choc-cherry combo. I believe it’s seasonal (Valentine’s Day), but worth your immediate pursuit— another winner from the peerless Shatto portfolio.
A suitable alternative to main-lining Hershey’s chocolate syrup. It’s uber sweet, cumbersomely chalky, and powerfully chocolaty— but in a more sweet than bitter way. There’s an almost alcohol-like twang to the finish— as though chocolate liqueur was a major component of the flavor. In short, you CAN have too much of a good thing— and they’re trying way too hard here; it reeks more of desperation than aspiration.
Nastily thick and un-milky in a way that makes you gulp it in, and then down— likely not as noticeable through its provided straw. The textural gaffes would be excusable if it delivered great flavor— which it certainly does not: strong, unoffensive malt with nary a shard of chocolate.
Excellent creaminess with minimal viscosity— one of the most competent chocolate milks I’ve ever had in terms of this ratio. Both elegant and lithe, it drinks like a dream that you don’t want to wake from. Flavor-wise, it’s decidedly on the bland side, choosing to slow-play the cocoa flavor whilst keeping the sugar well at bay.
Confidently wild, luxuriously creamy, and exceedingly drinkable— the grass-fed cream is by far the star of the show here. Chocolate plays an understated, yet competent role, letting the cream flourish and the salt accentuate each draw like an ocean wave lapping the smoothly sun-bleached rocks of the Downeast Maine coast.
Mildly creamy, yet chalky and super bland. Chocolate is nowhere to be found, and a faint, pleasant malt flavor struggles in earnest to shine under a dim spotlight. It’s a bit drying to the mouth after each swallow, though a bit more subtle than most other high-protein chocolate milks.
Relatively thin for whole milk, yet creamy and tasty in a way that whole chocolate milk is expected to be. There are neither sinister deviations from- nor brilliant exploitations of- the typical chocolate milk properties, just delicious simplicity.
Quite possibly the finest chocolate mint milk extant. It arrives with a flavorful density, yet lightens immediately in the mouth as though it knows exactly where to go and how to navigate to its destination— leaving you with a satisfying minty coolness from gums to gullet. Alliteration was never my strong point.
Wow— this flavor profile (chocolate, chili pepper, cinnamon) may not be for everyone (self included), but it’s executed remarkably well here, particularly the slightly delayed heat from the pepper that comes in at the perfect time and strength. The cinnamon is not overpowering, and the chocolate is present throughout. A marvel of modern engineering, and if you think you might like this, it’s a no-brainer.
A bit shockingly salty upfront, but you quickly warm to it with further sips. The flavor is intensely salted caramel, not as much chocolate, and it tastes like you think it should. The texture is a bit more concerning, as it skews more syrupy than milky.
The same, signature Fairlife twang plugged into a more clotted base. The sweetness is distractingly unnatural and significantly hampers the experience. I get that the nutrition stats are attractive (low sugar, high protein) and it serves that market well, but from a flavor standpoint, it doesn’t quite do whole milk justice.
I’m reminded of a late-season corn crib— as the flavor has a strong fermented grain quality. Each swallow fades clumsily into a starchy roux, causing you to question what, why, and how. And ultimately, who.
Painfully sweet with a stevia sledgehammer that blasts you early and refuses to leave. Everything else feels irrelevant by comparison, and none of it strong enough to recoup the damage done by the sweetness. Approaching undrinkable.