Does Corona And Disarrono Make Dr Pepper? We Tried It To Find Out

Social media continues to surprise, delight, and disappoint us on a daily basis. Every whirlwind internet trend begins with inquisitive skepticism, climaxes to viral stardom, and fizzles out gradually like week-old soda. We aren't saying you should believe everything you see on social media, but it may be worth trying out like a twisted Gen Z science experiment. We have spent many nights debunking a day's worth of TikToks, from mixing health concoctions women in Lululemon leggings tote as "gut-alterting," to trying that one gluten-free, vegan, grass-fed oatmeal recipe that's been trending.

But, there are some viral videos you spend three minutes watching that leave you wishing you had just kept scrolling. The viral mixture of Corona and Disaronno to create a knock-off Dr Pepper was one that had us questioning what amount of drinking could lead someone to soundly combine the two together. However, in our world, if it sounds new, adventurous, and slightly stomach-churning, we have to try it, and of course, take it one unnecessary step further.

Not only did we try this infamous Corona-Disaronno combination to see if it would be the next hard Dr Pepper, but we tried Disaronno with other local, craft beers to see if it would somehow magically taste like the next best trend. We rangled our trusted gluten-tolerant and intolerant taste testers together to see if our stomachs could handle a night of dive bar mixology for the sake of journalistic fulfillment.

Let's start with the obligatory side note about diet culture — we are not here to be the gatekeepers of health and wellness, or tell you what's healthy or unhealthy. This slide is merely meant to serve an informational purpose.

Now, as we dismount from our soap box, Corona is the "employee of the month" of a light beers — always dependable, always available, but nothing mind-blowing in terms of complexity. It has malty, fruity notes that remind us of drunk summer nights by the beach, or getting seasick on a cruise. It's also one of those beers that tastes surprisingly delicious, warm or cold, which is a weird tidbit coming from someone who drinks all beverages at the temperature of bath water. Corona Premium has 90 calories, while Corona Light has 99 calories (seems backwards), which is fairly lo-cal compared to other beers.

On the other hand, Disaronno, clocking in at 170 calories per serving, is essentially an Italian, almond liqueur that closely resembles liquified brandied cherries with the mouth-coating creaminess of horchata. It's an alcoholic beverage that seems to have been dreamt up from the minds of sugar-starved children in search of an alcoholic beverage that tastes like a Werther's caramel candy, but takes half the bottle to get you drunk. It's a truly delicious beverage on its own — one you could drink in a snifter while wearing a mink coat, and smoking a pipe unironically.

As we pep ourselves up to start the experiment, it only makes sense to start with the combo that started it all — Corona and Disaronno. We decided to try Disaronno with both Corona Premium and Corona Light, since the difference is like sipping diet Dr Pepper and calling it normal soda. For each taste test, we measured out one ounce of Disaronno, or one small-ish pour with a glug at the end, for every 6 ounces of beer.

When sampled with the Corona Light, it smelled like a malty-version of Disaronno. However, it tasted like a Dirty Shirley made with Corona instead of vodka, but without the fun of eating the cherry at the end of a drink. It unremarkably tasted like discount, Dollar Tree Dr Pepper, as opposed to the name brand pop.

However, with the Corona Premium, it suddenly tasted more like the Dr Pepper of viral videos past, but three shots were needed to fulfill that same flavor profile. Any more Disaronno would have resulted in a melted Jolly Rancher concoction of Almond Joy cough syrup-like proportions. Higher amounts of Disaronno here meant a drink that tasted pretty close to Dr Pepper, but one that taste testers felt the need to draw straws on to see who would finish it.

IPA beers, on their own, are part of the idealist inner circle of the craft beer world that are usually enjoyed by those who wear flannel shirts and beanies in the summer. Trial by Wombat IPA from Thin Man Brewery fermented dry hops and the infinite microspects of the galaxy to formulate one deranged, yet eye-catching craft beer. We have tried other spectacular brews from Thin Man, but one taste tester described it as the palest of IPAs, while our taste tester contemplated if it was even worth the gluten pains.

As soon as the Disaronno entered the same atmosphere as the beer, a waft entered the air that made us question if the compost needed to be taken out. One taste tester compared it to the nostalgic smell of burnt tires at a high school bonfire, or even leaving your hair wrapped up in a curling iron for too long before it falls out in big, meaty clumps. It's incredible how the mashup of two palatable potables could result in a smell that could have singed our nose hairs.

That being said, our senses were not as offended by the combination after tasting it. The residual hoppiness was gone, and only left a lingering hint of jarred brandied cherry juice. It tasted nothing like Dr Pepper, but perhaps a crunchy-granola, healthy version of the soda you would find at Erewhon for $12. At this point, Corona was in the lead by an insurmountable margin.

Since all the taste testers are Millennials, it's only natural that we love the sweet and fruity complexities of trendy sour beers. Whether they are thick like smoothies, or tart like Sour Patch Kids, it's impossible to resist the urge to order one at a local brewery for aesthetics sake. This Väsen raspberry and vanilla sour, hailing from Richmond, Virginia, has a strong muddled raspberry taste with the subtle creaminess of a vanilla shake. It's similar to a better version of canned or homemade cherry pie filling, but with a hint of cherry cordials from a box of chocolates, specifically Esther Price (Midwesterns know).

When paired with the Disaronno, it surprisingly tasted nothing like Dr Pepper, but more like a cherry cola-flavored sour, but was nevertheless creamy, sweet, and slightly less sour in complexity. It took the edge off in places we didn't realize were sharp, but left us taking greedy, unconscious second and third sips while jotting notes down. Morale quickly returned to the group, to the point where we almost burned a late-night batch of brownies due to the in-depth debating over which beer was now our top contender.

Even though we subjected one of our gluten-intolerant taste testers to an unquenchable amount of gluten, we figured we would toss them a bone with a cider in the hopes that any damage done by the beer would be quickly reversed. We slightly played ourselves with this one by picking a dry, as opposed to sweet, cider. However, this DMV-based cider from Lost Boy cidery is one of the panel's favorites, and it would be sacrilegious to drink Disaronno with a Mike's Hard-adjacent beverage.

It's got a crisp, dry, raspberry profile, but when paired with Disaronno, it couldn't have tasted less like the world's favorite cherry-ish flavored beverage (sorry, Cheerwine). It reminded one taste tester with disgust of cherry-flavored kombucha — all of the vinegar with none of the bite. Another taste tester regaled at the familiar taste of fermented tea, enjoying the crispy, fruity, and slightly nutty flavor.

Our stomachs may have taken a time out, but we hated to say that other combinations were more palatable, which was disappointing given how well raspberry and almonds go together. It didn't matter though, since we were already half bottle of wine and six bottles of beer deep, and the only things in life that mattered in that moment were snacking on cold ribs, and loudly debating the drink's viscosity.

Sure, Veuve Clicquot is nice, but you haven't lived until you've enjoyed a 40-ounce Miller High Life in a crystal champagne flute –- there's a reason why it's called the champagne of beers. By itself, Miller High Life tastes like high school hangovers, and the hope for a blissful death at the hands of anything other than an Edward 40 hands. However, one taste tester had high hopes that Miller High Life would beat out Corona as the most Dr Pepper-like, given the particular nothingness flavor that made it especially appealing in this scenario.

However, this was the most-disputed drink combination that was on the cusp of getting more heated than a "Real Housewives" reunion. A taste tester called it carbohydrate-filled wastewater — all the flavor of terrain-stricken bread, but with strangely on-the-nose hints of artificial cherry and Costco-branded vanilla. One taste tester said it was as if you used an assorted pile of syrup-soaked cherry stems for firewood. Another proclaimed that it tasted slightly more like Dr Pepper than the Corona Light version, coming insidiously close to beating Corona Premium out of its title. It was as if you let a Big Gulp of Diet Dr Pepper sit out in the sun for a couple hours to achieve that watered-down, microplastic flavor profile. Maybe the bland, bready taste of Miller High Life perfectly accented the ripe sweetness of the Disaronno, or we were getting too tipsy to care what liquids were going where.

Hardywood brewery, based out of Richmond, Virginia, is one of the gold standards of craft beers, from its line of Christmas-inspired brews, to hipster-flavored IPAs. And as we head toward the finish line to complete this never-ending circus show of an experiment, we hoped to finish strong. On its own, this is a chocolate-laced stout, thick and viscous in taste, but ribboned with an underbearing touch of raspberry.

However, we didn't know if it was the liqueur talking, but this power couple combination was the first example of beer that was somehow made more delicious with the addition of the Disaronno. An already delicious beer that we wait eagerly for every year became fruity, creamier, and perfectly accented by the joyous almondy notes. 

Shockingly, if you could look past the thick milky texture, you'd discover more of those deep and fruity notes found in Dr Pepper than in the past samples. It feels almost wrong to say that a stout-Disaronno mixture would taste more like Dr Pepper than the most blank canvas of beers, but we love to be surprised, especially if it means taste testers fighting over who gets the last sip.

After a long 45 minutes of scrupulously taking notes like amateur sommeliers, we were left confused, constipated, and contemplating our life choices. This was no Pilk phenomenon, where every choice and sip felt like the wrong one, but it was mind-altering enough to wonder how people could combine two completely different drinks, and immediately think Dr Pepper.

Sure, drinking Corona Premium with Disaronno tasted the most like a twisted version of Dr Pepper, but it paled in comparison to the delectable combination of the sour-stout- Disaronno blend. We came upon a crossroads in the experiment as to what the standard of good meant: was something good in terms of taste, or how close it was to Dr Pepper? We arbitrarily argued over the meaning and thematics behind an internet trend that probably held 1 gig of storage in our brains, but it felt fun and memorable in the moment, which as we know, is the true, pure intention of social media.

The moral here is simple — whoever said this now iconic duo of Corona and Disaronno tastes like Dr Pepper must have added a sprinkle of something special to their drink (it's not aspartame), and honestly, we want some of that happy juice too. That way, any wacky TikTok drink combination, from Corona and Disaronno, to water and balsamic vinegar, can taste just as good as the real thing, or at least trick our minds into believing it for the chance at viral glory.