What brings me to the yard?

I love milkshakes.  Love them.  I love spoon shakes and straw shakes.  I love hand-scooped ice cream milkshakes and fast food milkshakes from a mix.  I love huckleberry Shoop shakes and homemade peanut-butter-and-chocolate blender shakes.  I love the freezing stainless-steel “extra” cup from a diner and the “pipe” that comes with a Carl’s Jr. Cap’n Crunch shake.  I even love blend-it-yourself shakes from the gas station.  I LOVE milkshakes.

(Coincidentally, Wikipedia says that the term ‘milkshake’ first referred to “an alcoholic whiskey drink that has been described as a ‘sturdy, healthful eggnog type of drink, with eggs, whiskey, etc., served as a tonic as well as a treat.’”  If I were a drinking man, I’d probably like that kind of milkshake too.)

 

Last night, for the very first time, I ordered a Neapolitan milkshake.  It had never occurred to me before that when asked, “Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?” I could simply answer “Yes, please.”   But after yesterday’s swirly deliciousness, I’m not sure I will ever order anything else.  Highly, highly recommended.