So in an endeavor to create pancakes that followed the low carb diet that reigns in this family, coconut flour pancakes were created, using eggs, milk, butter, sugar, salt, baking powder and coconut flour in place of the normal wheat flour.

The first pancake created was like eating watery, weak scrambled eggs with coconut added, and the texture left a whole lot to be desired. So more coconut was added, same result. The pancakes also liked to burn in record time, and were pretty impossible to flip. Realising this was probably due to the coconut flour not combining with the liquids very well, hemp flour was added.

As much as I’d like hemp flour to just be ground up hemp buds and leaves, it unfortunately isn’t, nor will it get you high. However, it seemed to impart the desired texture, and the new mix went on the pan. The result was sadly similar, and with more solids added, it began to stop cooking in the middle, leaving an unpleasant, uncooked gooey centre. I mean that in a bad way. Not like brownies which are amazing.

Losing patience fast, I decided to add spelt flour, which is as close to normal flour as I’ll ever see in this family, short of going on a pie binge.

The result was…..even less than ideal. Greasy, burnt on the outside and entirely raw in the centre, the Frankenstein monster I called “pancake” was nearly inedible for its taste and texture.

I guess this goes to show, that even though I’m a good cook, low-carb food is f***ing confusing and awful.

I’ve actually been curious about this range of products from Neurobrands for a while. With their distinctly lava-lamp like bottles that could also be construed as perverse in more childish minds, and rather amusing branding, -particularly the “NeuroGasm” variety that I was sadly unable to obtain on my trip- I jumped at the chance when I saw them offer at my local Waitrose, along with a few other unusual and curious energy drinks that I’ll probably save for a rainy day. I have many, many other things to write about, now that I’m home.

Regardless, starting with the NeuroSport bottle -which I feel the urge to note is non-carbonated-, I feel vaguely comforted by the bold print of “NO ARTIFICIAL COLOURS & FLAVOURS”…then heartbroken, because it’s sweetened with sucralose. However, in the last few months I seem to have grown a palate for that flavour, and my favourite energy drink Monster Lo-Carb is actually sweetened mostly with the substance. However, unlike Monster, this contains “Sodium, Potassium, Calcium, Zinc, Phosphorous, Magnesium, Selenium, Manganese, Copper, Chromium, Molybdenum and Chloride”…Sounds like an interesting combination suitable for restoring lost minerals and salt from being ill, or as it suggests, working out. Underneath the impressive mineral list is their slogan, in bold white letters; “DRINK SMART, DRINK NEURO“, and I could swear it’s a slogan I’ve seen on so many other drinks.

Cracking it open, I’m a little disappointed in the cap, which reveals a standard 500ml bottle opening, just like the average bottle of Coke or Dr. Pepper. Which is a shame, really, since I thought it would open in a fashion similar to the older Evian water bottles, which were honestly cryptic in their opening method, as a child.

So the smell? Lychees. I love lychees, so this is a huge plus point to me. If you don’t know how lychees smell, then it’s hard to describe. Imagine a very, very sweet variety of melon. No, sweeter than that. Regardless, the smell alone is making my mouth water with good memories of making bubble tea with lychee juice in place of the actual tea part.

How does it taste? Goddamn awesome. While the undeniable bitter tang of sucralose is there, it’s surprisingly well masked by the blissfully mild flavour of, yes, lychees! Somewhat thankfully, the flavour isn’t nearly as strong as actual lychee juice, which is a drink that I strictly reserve for sipping. Those of you who know me in person will know how crazily fast I can chug down drinks when I’m thirsty.

This means that NeuroSport gets a big thumbs up for being massively tasty, only 37 calories per bottle!!!!1!one if that’s your schtick in diets, and being a pretty good option for restoring minerals in the event of illness (or getting sunstroke like I did last weekend). This is pretty monumental, given my past experiences with anything not produced by Monster.

But hear ye! There is still yet one more Neurobrand product to drink today!

NeuroBliss, which claims to be a “mood enhancement” drink, and unlike the Sport variety is lightly carbonated. Which means after transit and being unceremoniously tossed in the fridge, it’s going to explode its milky white contents all over me just like-

I jest, I jest. So! NeuroBliss, containing “Acetyl-L-Carnitine, Gingko biloba, Chamomile and Siberian ginseng” looks like….a pretty odd line-up, honestly. Chamomile is a “downer” and ginseng an “upper”, which is a cause for a raised eyebrow, since I’ve always avoided mixing the two. Which is why you’ll rarely, if ever, see me mix alcohol with energy drinks, no matter how damn popular it is. But alas, I must continue for the sake of science..and morbid curiosity. More the latter than the former, to be honest.

The smell is what I’d call interesting. Not in a sarcastic “oh lol u mean its horrible” way, but I mean seriously, it’s interesting. On a first sniff, it smells just like run-of-the-mill tangy, cloudy lemonade. Nothing out of the ordinary. Take a long sniff and the smell changes distinctly. I’m honestly finding it hard to describe what exactly, this monstrosity has turned into. It’s a smell that I recall from my childhood, the smell of L’Oreal’s kiddie shampoo, the smell of bad, artificial marzipan flavouring and the inevitable acidic tinge of cyanide that follows along with it. Also, this one glue I used to use as a kid with fumes that would get you high from 10 foot away and smelled like marzipan. And used cyanide to glue things.

Suddenly, I’m not so keen on even putting my lips near this. But I do. Because I’m putting common sense behind me and letting stupid take the reigns just for you! Isn’t that nice?

Ow. I’m not sure how, but the bubbles from its light carbonation are like spontaneously getting pins and needles in my mouth and over everything it touches. The taste? The taste is…it’s um…It’s interesting. Yes, it tastes similarly to its smell, with the cloying, sickly edge of sucralose that is more prominent in this than the prior drink. I suppose if it tastes like it smells, then it tastes of soap, marzipan and death. Which….is pretty accurate actually. At the same time, for the more artificial sweetener-hardened among you, it may even taste pleasant. If you like soap, almonds and death. And pins and needles.

For something that sounded so pleasant on the bottle, and with NeuroSport’s vampire-sparkling review, I feel a little bad about this so lowly. It gets nicer the more you go through the bottle, but still pretty grim, all things considered. Maybe the alledged ‘mood enhancement’ the bottle boasts will take effect and I’ll stop caring that I feel like I just swallowed a mixture of L’Oreal kids shampoo, marzipan, pear drops and cyanide.

Wait, this review got to just about 1000 words? Damn.

I guess I’ll write more interesting things later.

It was…

I’ll never…

There aren’t even enough words in the English vocabulary to fully express what I have experienced. The distinctly uneasy knot in my stomach is still there and I feel every breath is desperately swallowing down a mixture of stomach acid and bile that in part, I really don’t want to remain contained.

Lucozade Alert Plus energy shot. I really thought that I had hit the apex of bilious, barely-stomachable substances when I first let the bitter taste of a Relentless Energy Shot touch my tongue. I even went as far as forewarning others (who, it’s worth noting, never heeded my warning) of the nauseating substance those pitch black phials contained.

Aparrently, I was wrong.

I’m a fan of Lucozade, and not much more proof is needed than the eighteen empty bottles of Cherry Lucozade that litter my room like short, fat baseball bats. But this thing is an affront to mankind, and quite frankly, the most disgusting thing I have ever consumed in my life. All 50ml of it.

Cracking it open, I peer inside and am greeted with a liquid that it completely clear. It just looks like a 50ml bottle of water. It claimed to be orange flavour, but no distinct smell was there, even if I pressed my nose against the rim of the bottle. A vague sickly sweet, penicillin-like scent of sucralose touched my olfactory senses, causing me to nearly gag right there and then.  On taste, a mere quarter of the bottle touched my tongue, and I instantly felt my stomach churn, fighting off an instinctive dry heave as the aftertaste left behind once swallowed encompassed entirely too many bad memories. You know that salty, unstoppable salivation you get, when you know you’re going to throw up in the next ten seconds? That is the aftertaste of this vile concoction.

Oh, I drank the whole bottle. I’m not a coward, and I wasn’t going to let some B-vitamins and artificial sweeteners beat me. Still. I’m sitting here with a stomach that is angrily churning at me, and not feeling that energised at all.

Addendum: Contrary to some beliefs that this poor experience was due to my hypersensitivity to chemicals, it was not. Double-checking with a bottle of Relentless Energy Shot, I found the taste was not just palatable, but enjoyable in contrast to the positively emetic Lucozade Alert Plus.