What is often lost in these arguments is the array of third options that exist, often with their own passionate fan bases. For instance: RC Cola. The RC stands for "Royal Crown", and the beverage was born in Columbus, Georgia back in 1905. Much later, RC Cola was shilled by no less than Nancy Sinatra. Let's be happy that it remains a solid performer in a highly competitive market, and that it hasn't developed an unfortunate demographic like Faygo and the Insane Clown Posse. (This wine blogger is not down with the clown, for any Juggalos that might be reading.)

Quick tasting notes: RC on its own lands somewhere between Coke and Pepsi on the nose test, probably a bit closer to Pepsi. It lacks the bitter bite of Coke but isn't as sweet as Pepsi, and doesn't go aggressively herbal like a root beer.

Here in Tennessee, RC Cola is indelibly tied to the Moon Pie, a cookie/marshmallow/chocolate treat invented 200 miles north of Columbus--I'm talking about Chattanooga, Tennessee in 1917. Somewhere along the way the combination of the two products became popular as a cheap lunch, and there's even an RC and Moon Pie Festival in Bell Buckle, TN every summer. The pairing is even immortalized in a classic song. Jasper from The Simpsons was delighted to discover Moon Pies upon emerging from the freezer at Apu's Kwik-E-Mart. "What a time to be alive!"

I'm using mini Moon Pies here, but it's also worth mentioning that RC is also a popular mixer with spirits, particularly at college parties and sporting events. You can be clever and mix the Royal Crown with Crown Royal, but really any of the brown liquors will do. Want to class it up? Use a decent Bourbon and a highball glass. If you're just looking to have a good time, then cheap Canadian whisky and a red Solo cup are your friends. Finely crushed or shaved ice is best for the latter, because it will water down over time and allow for ideal pacing. You can treat it almost like a snow cone and still get a lot of flavor. Just sipping the cocktail now makes me crave nachos and an overcooked hot dog.

These flimsy plastic bottles don't have the solid nature of cans or the sculptural integrity of glass bottles, and I doubt anyone will be seriously collecting them a hundred years from now. But the flavor stays the same, and it always reminds me of BBQ joints and gas stations a bit off the beaten path, where you'd have to snap off the bottle cap on a wall-mounted opener or grab the church key hanging from a long chain. Home was Coke, Pepsi was the enemy, but RC was that set of rural relatives that might have had a different last name yet were loved just as much.

Big thanks to Joe for letting me crash on his virtual couch for this post. Peace out, y'all!