Sooo… I have some tragic news. A part of my childhood from the 70s and 80s has died… or at least, it’s being permanently removed from the freezer section. Coca-Cola has officially announced that it is pulling the plug on Minute Maid frozen juice concentrates in the U.S. and Canada.
By April, those iconic little cylinders of slushy gold will be gone from the freezer aisle forever. Coca-Cola says in their very official press release voice, that they’re “exiting the frozen can category” because of “shifting consumer preferences.”
I’ll be the first to mourn this childhood staple… but if I’m being legally honest in a court of law, I cannot remember the last time I actually bought one. So, I guess I kinda helped seal its demise with my own shifting consumer preference.
But I tell ya… making a pitcher of Minute Maid was a monumental milestone in my life. It was the first thing I could ever kinda sorta classify as cooking. Yeah, I know… it hardly passes as cooking… but I did say, “kinda sorta.”
However, in my young brain, I wasn’t just mixing juice; I was a Michelin-star chemist performing delicate hydration arts. I felt like a culinary prodigy in tube socks saying, “The ratio of the three cans of water to the one can of sludge must be precise, or the mixture is RUINED!”
I mean, I was basically a pioneer, taming the wild, frozen frontier of the 12-ounce metal-rimmed canister. Just saying… 🤷 It was the only recipe I had memorized, and I executed it with the intensity of a diamond cutter.
So, how was this childhood ritual accomplished? First, you had to perform the delicate operation of peeling the plastic strip, which usually resulted in at least one minor thumb injury. Then, you’d upend the can over a plastic pitcher and wait for the splat! You know… that heavy, wet KERPLUNK as the frozen pulp hit the bottom of the pitcher.
It was satisfying in a way that pouring liquid out of a carton will never be. It was the sound of progress. It was the sound of “I have to find a wooden spoon and hack at this for three minutes because my ‘cooking’ skills haven’t evolved to the level of waiting for things to thaw.”
Then there was the pucker factor. Before the water was added—back when it was just a frozen, hyper-concentrated pillar of citrus—who among us didn’t give it a little sacrificial lick? I mean, don’t tell mom about this… but sticking your tongue onto that frozen pulp was like a rite of passage in the 70s and 80s.
It was a sensory overload of pure, unadulterated citric acid that would turn your face inside out. It was basically the Warheads candy of the beverage world. If your eyes didn’t water, you weren’t doing it right.
Oh, how I’ll miss those days of yore.
We’re losing a massive chunk of pulpy kerplunk history here. I mean, according to CBS News, Minute Maid started this frozen revolution back in 1946. For 80 years, they’ve been the kings of the concentrate, but between the rise of energy drinks, protein smoothies, and the fact that a 12-ounce can now costs roughly the same as a mid-sized sedan, the frozen can has become a relic.
I guess people today want convenience, less sugar, and not having to hunt for a pitcher that still has fossilized specks of pulp petrified to the sides because your 12-year-old decided that “washing dishes” is a creative interpretation involving a three-second lukewarm rinse and a prayer. Apparently, scrubbing requires a level of physical labor not covered in their current parental-child contract, leaving the rest of us to drink our juice out of a vessel that looks like a biological petri dish.
So, farewell, Minute Maid frozen cans. I’ll miss your icy pulpy kerplunk and your tongue-searing potency. I’ll miss the way you occupied that weird back corner of the freezer for six months before someone finally decided it was Juice Day.
Rest in pulp, my ole friend!
Crock’s Thoughts 