Would You Like Some Dessert With That Dessert? The State Of Milkshakes Is A Complete Disaster

The Chicago White Sox unveiled a new milkshake ahead of their season opener on Thursday against the Detroit Tigers that features the flavors of a campfire s'more blended and crammed in a cup.

On the surface, it sounds great, but this milkshake highlighted a growing problem we've seen in the milkshake world: an overabundance of nonsense in, on top of, and — perhaps most criminally — on the cup.

The Campfire Milkshake is overflowing with deliciousness, but that is exactly the problem.

The milkshake is ingrained in American culture. Decades ago, people used to file into pharmacies for them (pharmacies had soda fountains back in the day. Never got that, but if the two items on your shopping list happened to be a malted and a box of condoms, I guess you'd appreciate the convenience.)

For decades, it remained unchanged, but in the last few years, some have started believing that more is more when it comes to milkshakes. I'm here to inform you that it isn't and that's okay. It's actually a good thing.

In the world of milkshakes, more is less and less is the right amount. It's just math people.

A milkshake is not a blank canvas for you to put a modern art installation on top of.   (Photo by Christina Horsten/picture alliance via Getty Images)

A Milkshake Is Not A Blank Canvas

People started seeing a milkshake as a blank canvas. They decided to try to gussy it up first with a handful of M&M's on top, or maybe a couple of pieces of licorice.

Nothing crazy.

However, this arms race intensified, and now you're seeing milkshakes with entirely different desserts on top of them. Slices of cake, Moon Pies, and now s'mores, have become garnishes, rendering the entire thing virtually impossible to eat without splashing half-melted ice cream on yourself or the part at the next table.

One of the great things about the milkshake in its purest form is its portability. You can throw a lid on a milkshake and drink it in your car. Try doing that with a banana split without crashing into a telephone pole and staining your shirt.

But now, you need ample table space to disassemble the modern art sculpture they placed in front of you. It's a ridiculous chore. Never in my life did I think I'd hear someone say, "I can't wait to take a sip of this milkshake… I just need to move this entire pie out of the way first."

And what's the point? They assemble this thing in the kitchen, the server walks it out to you, sets it down, everyone says, "Hey, how about that?" and takes some pictures before it's immediately dismantled.

The lifespan probably averages two minutes and fifteen seconds, and that's a generous estimate.

We see a similar thing happening to the Bloody Mary. First, they were garnished with olives. Then they added strips of bacon. Now they'll just dump anything in a glass of Clamato and vodka and call it a Bloody Mary.

Those garnishes are getting bigger. We've reached the point of crab legs and chicken fingers. At this rate, there's going to be a maple tree and a Sea-Doo in your glass within the next few years.

With modern milkshakes, perhaps the biggest problem isn't what's in the glass or on top of it, it's what's on the outside of it.

Look at that s'mores shake. Note the splash of chocolate syrup (although it looks hardened; could be chocolate shell, we'll do more reporting) that is caked around the cup rim.

Now, may I remind you that the idea is you'll eat this in the middle of summer. That chocolate will be melting all over the place and before you know it, it's on your pants, your neighbor's pants, the handrails, the seats, and the mascot's fur.

Simplicity is the name of the game to avoid sticky messes like this.

A milkshake from the Pennsylvania Farm Show: a shake with self-esteem high enough to not need a bakery case sticking out of it. (© Neil Strebig, York Daily Record, York Daily Record via Imagn Content Services, LLC)

Let's Go Back To The Milkshake Simplicity Of Yesteryear

The best milkshake I've ever had is from — of all places — the Pennsylvania Farm Show. It's a simple vanilla or chocolate (or both if you're feeling a little Evel Knievel-y) in a cup that is thick, silky, and delicious. No tricks, no flash, just a top-tier milkshake.

It's so tasty, that you won't even care that you're ordering it from a kiosk located a few steps away from a pen with a cow ripping a deuce on a pile of hay. It's that good.

So let's rein in milkshakes. Go back to our milkshake roots. We don't need to stick Choco Tacos or slices of strawberry shortcake in milkshakes.

Let's just slow our roll and enjoy — as Homer Simpson used to say — a nice, simple frosty chocolate milkshake.