Every Poppi Soda Flavor, Ranked

It seems everyone is trying to take a product and make it "better for you" these days. We've got low alcohol wines for those who want a buzz without the capital B, a growing category of caffeine-free coffee alternatives ... What's next? Potato chips that count as a serving of vegetables? Gut-friendly sodas?

Actually ... yes. Maybe not the chips, but Poppi, launched in 2018 as part of a new movement of soda disruptors, promised something that sounded too good to be true: "Flavors and bubbles without the baggage." In other words, fizzy drinks in fun flavors with low sugar, prebiotics from agave inulin and cassava root fiber, apple cider vinegar for "a mouthwatering zing," and less than 35 calories per can.

For this story, I did what any responsible mom would do: I roped my 11-year-old son into helping. He's a die-hard soda drinker — something that keeps me up nightly — and he was more than happy (read: ecstatic) to serve as co-taster. We sipped our way through all 17 Poppi flavors, rating each on a scale of 1 to 5 for overall taste and flavor fidelity. 

We wanted the classics to taste like the sodas they were riffing on, and the offbeat flavors to be inherently delicious. We didn't always agree, but we eventually landed on this definitive ranking, from our least favorite to the one we'd happily crack open any day, guilt-free.

Before Coca-Cola launched Cherry Coke back in the mid-80s, soda fountains would routinely mix cherry syrup into cola for a fruity take on a classic. The flavors are so complementary that this one should have been an easy win. Unfortunately, the actual taste never quite lived up to our expectations. 

The cola base was thinner than we wanted, as evidenced by the relatively pale color of the pop. It was also missing that caramel-y, slightly spiced backbone that makes the classic so addictive. The cherry, meanwhile, was more syrupy than juicy, leaning cough-drop sweet instead of fresh fruit. "This tastes like Maraschino cherries!" James declared. (Actually, he'd called them "marinara cherries," but fortunately I knew what he meant.) We both found ourselves waiting for the moment when the full cherry and cola flavors would click, but it just never happened. On the plus side, this one's still fizzy and fun, and the muted concentration of this might actually be more refreshing to fans who find the original too sweet.

This one's clearly trying to be Coke's healthier sibling, but it still left me wanting more. The color is oddly pale, yet the bubbles are lively. There's even a whiff of that familiar cola aroma when you pop the tab. But sip after sip, the flavor feels too dialed down — like a diluted Diet Coke. And similar to Poppi's Cherry Cola, I missed that heady mix of caramel, citrus, and spice that makes true cola so beguiling. 

My son, however, thought it was "fine," though his definition of fine is "I'd drink it before milk," which doesn't really say much given his feelings about milk. We agreed it's a solid option if you're trying to cut back on regular Coke but still want something in that flavor lane. But if you're a true fan of the real thing, you might find yourself craving the original after this.

I'll admit I had no idea this was supposed to be Poppi's take on Dr Pepper. I honestly thought "Doc Pop" sounded like something you'd sip while ... sitting on a dock in the summer. It wasn't until James pointed it out ("There's no 'k,'" he deadpanned) that I connected the dots. 

The flavor was ... fine. Not bad, not great. There's a whisper of spice, a hint of fruitiness, but nothing that really hooks you. Like the Cola and Cherry Cola, it tasted a bit too watered down. James summed it up in typical grade school lingo: "It's mid." And that's the perfect description. If you're a die-hard Dr Pepper fan, you might find this a lighter, less sugary stand-in. For us, it just didn't have enough personality to rank higher on the list, perhaps even earning a more enthusiastic "that slaps" or whatever it is the kids are saying these days. 

Here's where things started to pick up a little. After a string of flavors that left us wanting more, this one came pretty close to what it was trying to be, but didn't let us down by failing to be an exact dupe of the original. As James put it, "It doesn't taste like Sprite, but it does taste like lemon lime." I was starting to think he had a promising future as a restaurant critic. 

There's a nice, clean citrus flavor here, with lemon leading the way and lime tagging along in the background. It's lighter and less sugary than the big-brand version — almost like a lemon-lime seltzer with a touch of sweetness — which makes it a bit easier to drink if you're not looking for a full-on sugar bomb. Is it going to make you forget Sprite exists? Probably not. But it's crisp, refreshing, and a juicy alternative to the real deal that will likely please clear citrus seltzer fans in general.

Just when we thought we were on an upward trajectory, this one tripped us up. James took one sip, nodded confidently, and announced, "Tastes like grape soda," promptly giving it a 5 out of 5 for sameness. And, in fairness, he's not wrong; it does a solid job mimicking the classic grape soda. The problem? I love grape-flavored things. Maybe it's the wine writer in me, but I want to taste the purple. And the purplier, the better. So I was specifically looking for that bold, juicy grape punch, with maybe even a little tangy pucker at the end. Instead, this felt muted, like grape soda that had lost its groove.

I suppose it's tough to get that classic artificial grape candy flavor while simultaneously making something better for you (most people would agree even grape-flavored things don't taste like actual grapes). I really wanted to love this one, and I'll give it credit for trying to achieve this flavor profile in a more health-conscious way. But for me, the lack of oomph kept it from delivering the grape soda moment I was hoping for.

Root beer has always been one of my personal favorites when it comes to soda. There's just nothing else like that mix of sassafras, vanilla, and warm spice that great examples of the soda offer. So, I was ready to be swept off my feet here. James took one sip, gave a happy little nod (and an oddly baritone belch for such a little dude), and said, "Mmm. That's really good. Tastes like normal root beer."

He wasn't wrong. The flavor is spot-on in spirit, with that familiar blend of sweet and herbal. But as we kept sipping, I found myself missing the depth and creaminess that makes a great root beer feel almost dessert-like (maybe some vanilla ice cream would help?). While James was more than happy to finish the can, I didn't let him. One aggressive burp was enough for the day, gut health or not.

James was all in on this one — all 5s across the board. His friend Ethan, who happened to wander in mid-tasting to join the fun (strictly as an unofficial judge), also gave it two thumbs up. I, on the other hand, was not the target audience here. I've never liked the orange-and-vanilla combo. No orange sherbet, no dreamsicles, no creamsicles for me, please. So while they were both grinning and slurping like they'd struck soda gold, I was politely taking tiny sips and trying to be objective, like the impartial journalist that I am.

I can, however, recognize when something understands the assignment, and this absolutely does. The orange is bright and sunny, the vanilla is smooth without being cloying, and together they hit that cheerful ice-cream-truck nostalgia square on the head. If you're into that flavor pairing, you'll probably love it as much as my kid did. 

"This one looks promising," James declared as he cracked the can. He wasn't wrong; the bright citrusy aroma was immediately inviting. My first thought? This smells like Mountain Dew. First sip? I liked it better than Lemon Lime. James, however, took a sip and declared, "Tastes like Sprite," which sent me into a moment of doubt. Was it supposed to be Sprite's cousin? But then he pointed at the can and, with that 11-year-old "how do you not see this" tone, said, "There are mountains on it. Alpine Blast. Mountain Dew." Right.

Flavor-wise, it does give "healthier" Mountain Dew vibes. Less neon intensity, less stay-up-all-night-eating-Doritos-and-playing-video-games, much more clean citrus. The sweetness is scaled back, which I actually preferred, but it still has enough fizz and tang to feel fun. It might not make hardcore Dew fans swap allegiances, but it's a solid option for when you want a gentler, more grown-up version of the classic, with a side of gut health to offset those Doritos.

Before we even tasted it, I was smitten with the color. The playful pale Barbie pink reminded me of some of my favorite rosé wines. James took one whiff and lit up: "It smells so good! It smells like a Jolly Rancher!" He also pointed out that it's a standout because, unlike grape or orange, watermelon isn't exactly a soda aisle regular.

First sip, and he was grinning again: "Tastes like watermelon Pop Rocks," he said, opening his mouth in mock anticipation of the popping. I got the same candy-like burst, but perhaps because of my love for a great rosé, I wanted just a bit more of a tart, juicy finish. For me, this missing element kept it just shy of perfect; for James, this only made it taste "more like real watermelon," which is pretty sweet and refreshing from start to finish. Either way, it's tasty, playful, and definitely one of the more unique flavors in the lineup. We both agreed it's the kind of soda that instantly makes you think of summer — and that's always a good thing in my book.

The second I cracked this one open, I got that unmistakable ginger aroma, but it was light and bright versus that spicy, almost warming ginger that can sometimes be overwhelming in a proper good ginger beer.

First sip and the ginger definitely takes the lead, giving it a little bite right up front, with the lime coming in more as a bright, zesty afterthought. It falls somewhere between a crisp Sprite and a mellow ginger ale, which actually totally works. James thought it was "good, but kind of grown-up," which I took to mean it wasn't quite sweet enough for his usual soda tastes. For me, that restraint was a plus: it felt like a soda you could sip slowly and appreciate the flavor (or possibly even mix with your favorite spirit for a chill ginger-tinged cocktail). It's citrusy, just a tad spicy, and surprisingly balanced, making it a definite standout in the citrus category.

This Poppi soda pours out in a really pretty amber-gold color, like the kind of pop that instantly makes you think of old-fashioned soda fountains. The flavor is like a satisfying yet diet cream soda; it's lighter in body and sweetness than the classic, but still delivers that familiar vanilla warmth. James, however, was all in. "Tastes a lot like cream soda!" he said, in what was easily his most enthusiastic moment of the entire tasting.

Indeed, the flavor is spot-on for what it's aiming to be: smooth, sweet, and comforting without crossing into syrupy territory. The lighter profile makes it a little more refreshing than the classic version, which could be a win if you want that nostalgic cream soda vibe without feeling like you've just downed dessert. And while I didn't rank it quite as high as James did on my personal list, I can't deny that he might be onto something here.

The color alone makes you want to drink it: soft peachy pink, like it should be served over ice at a backyard barbecue. The aroma is exactly what you'd expect: sweet, ripe strawberries with a squeeze of fresh lemon. First sip, and it's basically summer in a can.

James and his friend Ethan were instant fans. "That's bussin'," James said in true brainrot youth slang, happily polishing off his glass before I could get a second pour. For me, I wanted a little more lemon to balance the sweetness of the strawberry, just a bit more tang to keep things really snappy, which seems to be consistent with my personal palate. Still, it strikes a nice balance between fruity and fresh, making it something I could see working just as well at a kids' birthday party as it would be spiked with a splash of gin for the grown-ups.

It's no surprise that Cherry Limeade and Strawberry Lemon were neck and neck. But for me, Cherry Limeade just worked that much better in the fruit-meets-citrus category. It's still bright and fruity — almost like those thirst-quenching black cherry seltzers — but there's just the right amount of lime, giving it a cleaner, crisper finish that makes it more satisfying than the Strawberry Lemon. It's the balance I was missing in the Strawberry Lemon, and here, it feels right on point.

Unsurprisingly, James scored this one just a touch lower than Strawberry Lemon; he's firmly in the "sweeter is better" camp, clearly. But for me, this was an easy step up. The flavor pairing just works, and it's refreshing in a way that feels perfect for hot afternoons when you want something a little more interesting than plain fruit soda or a simple sparkling water with lime.

I went into this one a little skeptical. While I love the smell of an actual rose in the garden, food and dessert flavored with rose water is generally a hard pass for me. Turkish delight? No, thank you. But this Poppi surprised me in the best way. The rose here isn't perfume-y or soapy at all. It's barely there, really, providing just a gentle, herbal lift that plays so well with the tart-sweet raspberry. It's light, clean, and incredibly refreshing. Even James gave it top marks, which I wasn't expecting at all given the more offbeat flavor combination.

This is the kind of soda you could sip all afternoon without getting palate fatigue. In fact, I kept thinking how good this would be splashed with prosecco or mixed into a spritz for the perfect mocktail turned cocktail moment that's just right for summer.

Fruit punch is one of those flavors that's either a total childhood throwback win or a nauseating sugar overload. Poppi's limited-edition Punch Pop manages to hit all the right notes of nostalgia without tipping into belly-ache-at-a-kids-birthday-party territory. In fact, one reviewer on Poppi's website said just that: "Punch Pop reminds me of fruit punch from my childhood, but way better and way healthier. It has just the right fizz and finishes clean."

I think the bubbles are in fact the real game-changer here, cutting through the flavor concentration and making it something you actually want to keep sipping instead of abandoning halfway through. It's still colorful and festive, but a little more refined. If you're lucky enough to spot it, grab a few cans. Like all good limited editions, it won't be around forever, and this one deserves a repeat appearance.

This one had me at hello. It's bright, juicy, and just tangy enough to make your mouth water, and nails that sweet-tart balance in the most satisfying way. It instantly reminded me of every great version of the so-called "blue raspberry" flavor I've ever had in candy or Slushees ... which, now that I think about it, raises the question: what is a blue raspberry, anyway?

Whatever it is, Wild Berry Poppi channels that same electric, almost indefinable berry magic without going over the top with it. It does lean sweet, but in a way that feels indulgent rather than something radioactive that's staining your tongue bright blue. The bubbles keep it light, the finish is clean, and it's one of those sodas you could easily drink too quickly without realizing it. For me, this is Poppi at its best — taking a nostalgic flavor and making it craveable for grown-ups without losing the fun.

Sometimes the simplest flavors really are the best. Poppi's Orange nails that sunny, sweet-tart orange soda profile so perfectly it's basically a love letter to Orange Crush. And who doesn't love Orange Crush? This is that same nostalgic joy, just in a slightly fresher, lighter form. But where Poppi's Grape fell short, the Orange overdelivered. The concentration was there, and this thankfully didn't taste diet or diluted — just juicy and satisfying.  

From the first sip, it's bright and sweet without being heavy, the kind of flavor that instantly makes you think of summer picnics, backyard sprinklers, and sticky fingers. There's no overthinking here. It's just clean, classic orange pop done right, with a subtle crispness from the bubbles that makes it even more refreshing. James and I didn't have to debate this one. It was the clear winner, and the can we both reached for again after the tasting was over.

All 17 sodas were purchased at local grocers and tasted in two sessions. Each was given two scores out of 5 in overall taste and either similarity to the classic or just general flavor composition. Scores were tallied. In the event of a tie, I consulted online reviews.