Review: April-Ade

available from Legal Sea Foods restaurants

It's a combination of mystery and tawdriness that draws you in. "Crimson-berry tea and lemonade," says the menu. "Inspired by April Kramer, wife of Aerosmith drummer Joey Kramer. $2.25."

As celebrity endorsements go, it's hardly first-rate. Hands up: who knew the name of the Aerosmith drummer? Hands up: who knew the name of his wife?

But hey, Aerosmith is Aerosmith, and you feel compelled to order it. Before it arrives, the questions start: What's the story? How did Legal Sea Foods achieve such an exclusive drinks coup? Did April concoct it herself, or did somebody make it up in her honor?

The waiter did not know. The manager did not know either. Later, an e-mail to the comprehensive Legal Sea Foods Customer Services department (their online form asks for three phone numbers you can be reached on) yielded a speedy response:

Your question is a fair one. The Kramers, as well as other members of Aerosmith, are regular guests at Legal Sea Foods. One day, while dining at our Braintree restaurant, April thought a combination of two of our beverage options would taste great together...

It's an invitation to picture the scene... Aerosmith, plus ones, sitting louche in a booth, like rock stars do. Everyone's ordered drinks, but April, like always, can't decide. (Bloody drummers' wives.) "Give me a minute. Ooh, crimson-berry tea or lemonade — I don't know! It's just so difficult to choose!"

Steve Tyler sighs. He's hungry; he's been hankering for Legal's scallops all tour. "Tell you what, April; get both. Joey's paying."

The band laughs.

"Oh, I really shouldn't... but OK, I'll have both."

Drinks arrive. April takes alternate sips from her two choices. Halfway through both drinks she realises something, and her face lights up with excitement.

Before she opens her mouth, Joe Perry rolls his eyes.

"Waiter!" shouts April. "Waiter, I want to speak to management or somebody — I have an idea!"

With the help of chef Jeff Laureanno, they determined an appropriate combination of the beverages and the rest, shall we say, is history.

It's unlikely an esteemed seafood chef would let the wife of a rock star anywhere near his kitchen, so this determination probably involved the poor waiter running back and forth with instructions — "A smidge more crimson-berry tea! No, too much! More lemonade!" — while Jeff the chef neglected the scallops, silently cursing whoever gave the OK to bend to the whims of a rock star party.

Maybe such an inexact science is why April-ade tastes so horrible. Weak, and yet sweet and sickly — less crimson-berries and lemons, more unfiltered fructose swilling in your mouth. You pray for your gums and to make things worse, there's no kick: It's a non-alcoholic cocktail, so you can't even console yourself that if you drink enough you'll end up smashed.

It's offensively inoffensive. If pink were a flavor, it would taste like April-ade.

And little attempt has been made to disguise the taste and brighten things up with garnishes or cocktail accessories. April-ade comes in a plain glass, with an all-American generous shovel of ice and a straw. No fruit segments, stirrers, sparklers or little parasols. None of that fancy rubbish — unless you count the chemical-looking gradual blend of pink and stale yellow.

Some celebrities, desperate to maintain a foothold in an unstable market where any nobody can get on TV or a magazine cover, release clothing lines or perfumes. "I wanted to capture the essence of who I am," they say. One only hopes that April Kramer didn't unleash April-ade (what's with the hyphen, by the way?) on the world with similar pretensions — unless she's a (very honest), insipid, muddled mess of a person.

Remember, kids: Just because something is loosely associated with an ageing rock band largely trading on former glories, doesn't mean it's going to be any good.

— Louis Cooke (louis@mintcake.com)

— graphic by Harsho Mohan Chattoraj (harshomohan at yahoo dot com)