This milkshake's better than yours

I don't know why I never thought of it before. In my eternal quest for the perfect summer beverage (one among many of my eternal searches), I don't know how it could have slipped under my radar. What better warm-weather combination could there be than the snowy chill of ice cream blended together with the inherent lounge-inducing quality of liquor? This dreamy concoction was right under my nose too, waiting for me at the appropriately named Le Bateau Ivre.

Susie suggested that we go there to get these alcohol-laden milkshakes, and there was no way I was going to pass that up. I ordered a Kahlua and vanilla ice cream milkshake, and Susie got one with chocolate ice cream, orange juice, and Grand Marnier that was called the Napoleon for some reason. They came in those pretty tall milkshake glasses but without the extra in the metal canister that one would usually get at any soda fountain (I suspected some greedy kitchen staff).

The shake itself wasn't too bad. It was tasty, with just enough Kahlua in there to taste but not to overwhelm. There was some bad blending, however, that left large chunks of very visible vanilla ice cream smushed up against the glass. And, yes, it could have been thicker. But, the quality of the milkshake wasn't what I was there for. I was there for the slightly ridiculous fact that there was alcohol in my drink, a drink that I remember often having while innocently hanging out with high school friends on warm southern Californian nights, a drink that only a week ago I saw little kids drinking at Ozzie's.

I finished my shake and left feeling giddy. I don't know if it was because I hadn't eaten much during the day and the alcohol was doing its work or because I felt slightly guilty for drinking lazily on a Saturday afternoon or because this childhood drink was turned into something a little bit lushy. I don't know. I do know that I left Le Bateau Ivre with a smile on my face though.