Shaken, not stirred

Milkshakes have always held a certain fascination for me.  It is a drink which is associated with a golden memory of carefree times. It has an Archie comics feel of a world where the inhabitants remain youthful forever. In fact historically the milkshake is a major American contribution to international gastronomy in the 19th century. Until the espresso bars came into fashion, it was the milk bars which held sway, selling the various milkshakes and ice-cream sundaes. It was the American milkshake which was exported to England in the early 20th century. According to the Oxford Companion to Food, in 1939 there were as many as thousand milk bars in England.  Many of the milkshakes were extraordinary in their conception; you had blends of milk, shaved ice and often whisky.  It was only after prohibition that milkshakes lost the alcohol content and with the Hamilton Beach Drink Master, it was possible to mix the shakes to a desired thickness.  

Perhaps the heydays of milk bars came to an end with the invention of the electric home blender which enabled people to make milkshakes at home.  Oddly enough the saviour of the milkshake are fast foods establishments like MacDonalds, which serve a variety of very ordinary milkshakes.  It is not an accident that Ray Kroc, the founder of the Macdonalds franchise, started as a milkshake machines seller.

In this context I came across a book which is a panegyric to the milkshake by an American author, Adam Reid, titled Thoroughly Modern Milkshake (Norton 2009). It throws a new perspective on the milkshake and its infinite variety.  In Rhode Island the milkshake is referred to as a cabinet, presumably after the cupboards in soda fountains where the blenders and syrups were stored. In St Louis you have the “concrete”, a combination of thick frozen custard, crushed candy, cookies and nuts. In contrast you also have the smoothie, the healthy shake made with fruit, milk or yogurt.  With the growing population of Hispanics, the Batidos, shakes made with fresh fruit, ice and milk, has also come into vogue.  But as Reid’s book demonstrates there are some secret touches like the addition of jam to give it that extra oomph.  

In India our contribution to the milk shake culture, other than the milk sherbet, must be the falooda.  The falooda originates in Iran and but the Iranian falooda is very different from the Indian one.  It is frozen vermicelli served with a delightfully aromatic rose syrup.  In the north falooda invariably means kulfi and vermicelli.  It is only in Bombay that it has that milky quality that would entitle it to be called the Indian milkshake. The ingredients of a good falooda include falooda seeds which are actually soaked basil seeds, topped with falooda sev and rose syrup.  It is traditionally served at Jamshedi Navroze.

One of my favourite places for falooda is Badshah at Crawford Market and they invariably serve it with a delightfully wicked scoop of ice-cream.  One takes indecent pleasure in stirring it and seeing the elaborate tier disintegrate into a yummy mess.  However, falooda has a strong association with the Iranian restaurants and with the demise of these restaurants, places that serve falooda are increasingly rare to find.  Another slice of old Bombay is disappearing and more’s the pity.