All the appeal of cough syrup, without the fun effects.
Purple Death is like a Fast & Furious marathon: you’re excited to revel in something objectively terrible with your friends, and it is fun initially, but after three hours of staring at Vin Diesel's fat head you begin to wonder why you’ve put yourself in this situation. I could have easily landed on the Pusher trilogy instead and enjoyed a much more attractive bald Mads Mikkelsen. Why am I here? Why is everything purple?
The challenge of reviewing this brew is that they’ve already done the job for me. Printed more as a warning than description, the label on the bottle explicitly says that this drink is shite and you’d be an idiot to drink it. This is a great sales tactic, to target those with enough self-loathing to buy a knock-off bottle of port. But of course I’ll drink it. The warning is for all of those other idiots.
I’m pretty sure you’d find everything you would need to brew Purple Death in a Mitre 10. The initial aroma is not unpleasant but quickly sours under any scrutiny; it is close to a cherry syrup with a tail end of WD-40. The drink is so overly-sweetened that I’m convinced they are trying to hide something, because at less than 14% alcohol, it burns like tequila going down. It’s the kind of sweetness that would pass as “yum” under only the discerning palate of a school child or WWII veteran.
The taste is disappointing because it is marginally pleasant. You can sip on this without doing a spit take, and that feels like false advertising. I was hoping for something that would strip the enamel off of my teeth rather than leave me with a vague headache and upset tummy. Purple Death is undoubtedly feral, but it is nowhere near as bad as I was led to believe. Buyer’s remorse over the surprise (bare minimum) quality of a product is the epitome of a first world problem.
The only avenue I can see myself enjoying this drop is at a BYO, just for the sheer pleasure of watching ol’ Jimbo skull glass after glass, otherwise I have no clue where Purple Death fits into our modern society. At $30 a bottle, it’s nowhere near being a cheap thrill. Too expensive for students, and too low-brow for the average person. I can only infer that there is a select small group of people that actually enjoy this stuff, and that is a scary thought. We share our roads, our schools, and our homes with these people. They walk amongst us, hiding in plain sight, enjoying Purple Death.
Tasting notes: Berry-gasoline compote bottled in an active fumigation tent.
Chugability: 1/10. It is basically syrup.
Hangover depression level: 9/10. You feel ill almost immediately after sipping.
Overall: 1.5/10. I wish I could have given it the 0/10 it deserves.