I’m not one of these dudes who’s a afraid to veer a little left. A good contigent of my bros routinely give me shit for lifting a pinky and sipping on something off-beat (read: something other than Jamesons, Jack Daniels, Bud and Coors Light). Even in The Great Liberal North-East – NYC being the epicenter of “live and let live” – there is still a bastion of meathead’ish, old school, “straight-guy logic” that outs itself in force when boozing time rolls around. There’s a set of unwritten rules to abide by. Among a half-dozen, mostly straight dudes, few other things can incite fierce stare-downs and raucous shit-talking faster than ordering a “girly” drink (like a milkshake, fruit-juice highball, or the poster-child for metrosexual and homosexual men – The Cosmo). Having the balls to order such a drink in a sea of seemingly straight men has sometimes even lead to drunken skirmishes.
I love me vagina just as much, if not more, than the next horny alpha-male. But I have no hesitation proudly brandishing a “faggy” drink among them. I personally couldn’t give two shits less what other people think of my drink choices, particularly straight-as-a-button, Reebok sneaker, Wrangler jean, and Champion sweatshirt-wearing, Yankee-worshiping, “trow me a beer” fat-asses from Staten Island.
So today, dear readers, I bestow on you the most gloriously rich, calorically-dense, devilishly evil, nirvana of alcoholic’s ice cream drink you’ll ever gift your taste buds… a pub choice that will surely incite endless calls for your excommunication from the frat. I call it the Dublin Mudslide.
First, a little history as to where it all begain…
A few years ago, while working the day shift in a bar that had the dubious reputation of making stellar milkshakes, frozen smoothies and other income-killing concoctions bartenders mostly loathe, an unremarkable 30′ish something couple came in together and sat at my half empty bar. We greeted each other warmly, I laid down some bevnaps and promptly asked them “so, what can I offer you guys this afternoon?” What they uttered in response rattled my bones and defied logic. They had asked me for a vanilla shake with two shots of baileys in it. Imagine my horror! It’s as if they had asked me for an order of friend chicken wrapped with double-smoked, double-cut, crispy bacon. It blew my mind. This would be the richest, sweetest, most luxurious, least intoxicating, waste of money I had ever crafted in all my years.
But you know what? I’m eager to satisfy – and even more eager to be tipped, well. So off I popped to the blender area and began my preparation. Now look: I have a terrible penchant for perfection. A milkshake is not a milkshake, alcohol-free or not, unless it’s (1) fully blended and has the perfect consistency. It should flow freely when poured but barely so. It’s got to be thick. I proceeded to pour my shake into a really pretty parfait glass and wondered with glee at the perfect folds that were going on as I high-poured (always a spectacle) to elicit “oohs” and “ahs.” Bartending should always be somewhat showy. Otherwise, you might was well save a good amount of money, hit the liquor store and keep your ass on the couch.
To say my customers were pleased is a massive understatement. As they sipped, they gleamed at each other with delightful grins. They were positively orgasmic. I had to know what all the fuss was about. I proceeded to pour myself the tiny bit extra that was left and gave it a go. It was beyond heavenly! It was the creamiest and most yummy frozen drink ever put to my lips. It was good that, believe it or not, they ordered two more rounds! You’re talking about maybe 800 calorie, sweet as sin milkshakes that cost more than $20 a pop. Yet, my lovely couple couldn’t be happier.
As tasty as that milkshake was, as laughable as it would be were I to order it among my bros and hos, I still felt it could use a little something. That something was obviously kick. Over the next few weeks, I experimented with all kinds of spirits from flavored vodkas to aperitifs, to various whiskies. It turns out, what worked the best, was the good old Dublin staple – Jamesons Irish Whiskey. Substitute one shot of Baileys Irish Cream for one of Jamo, and you’ve elevated what is already decadent, deliciously creamy treat, into absolute perfection for the senses. The whiskey also serves to nicely balance out the sensory overload that all that cream introduces.
The Dublin Mudslide
- 1.5 oz Jameson Irish Whiskeys
- 1.5 oz Bailey’s Irish Cream
- 3/5 of a shake tin full of vanilla ice cream – about 3 scoops
- No milk
- Garnish: a little nutmeg or caramel drizzle on top
- Glass: Parfait
It’s really that simple. Ideally, you want to make this in a multi-motor commercial shake machine – Waring or Hamilton Beach come to mind. If you’re stuck, you can make it in a blender. But in my experience, blenders tend to mess with the texture a tad too much. When properly made, it should have the consistency of cold egg nog.
NOTE: That wonderful couple who first prompted me to make this shake, wound up becoming my regulars. Sure enough, I suggested the whiskey modification to them and they wound up cherishing it, more so than their original suggestion.