When I heard that Doug and Bryan of The Big Gay Ice Cream Truck and The Big Gay Ice Cream Shop were making a Thin Mint Milkshake, a part of me thought: “Whoah, I wonder how they make that?” I also thought: “I wish I lived in New York still so I could taste that.”
Then, the other day, after Craig and I took a hike in Bronson Canyon, we stopped into Gelson’s (our local grocery store) to pick up a few things and encountered a Girl Scout standing outside.
The Girl Scout seemed innocent enough–she was smiley and well-badged–but she was standing next to a table covered in boxes that screamed EVIL. I urged Craig to keep walking but, naively, he smiled and said: “Oooh, Girl Scout cookies.”
The evil immediately seized my throat and forced me to say: “Get Samoas. And Thin Mints.”
We carried the evil home and then the real devil’s work began: the box of Samoa’s opened itself and the cookies, like something out of Fantasia, marched directly into my mouth. I couldn’t stop them. Before I knew it, I had eaten way too many; even Craig cried out: “Whoah, did you really eat all these? I only had three.”
Beware of Evil Girl Scouts!
I tried to hide the box of Thin Mints; to bury it in our front yard, to burn it in a pit of fire, but every time that I did, it showed up again, mysteriously, in our kitchen. Finally, last night, I recalled the Big Gay Ice Cream Thin Mint Milkshake and decided to do the only thing I could to rid ourselves of them: pulverize them in a blender with milk and ice cream.
It really was as simple as this: into a blender, I poured about 1 cup of whole milk and 7 Thin Mint cookies.
I blended until I had a thick, milky, minty chocolate sludge:
And to that I added about two scoops of vanilla ice cream:
I blended again and tasted: it tasted like heaven. If heaven were run by evil Girl Scouts.
At this point, I could have adjusted for thickness and flavor: if I wanted it thicker, I could’ve added more ice cream; if I wanted it thinner, I could’ve added more milk; if I wanted it Thin Mintier, I could’ve added more cookies. As it was, I poured it into a glass and cut a little notch into a Thin Mint to use as a garnish:
What I liked so much about this version was the simplicity: Thin Mints, vanilla ice cream, milk. Of course, you could play with this in a million ways: you could use chocolate ice cream or mint chocolate chip ice cream, you could add various liqueurs (Creme de Menth, comes to mind) but this version turns out a bit like a drinkable, minty Cookies and Cream.
And now we’re almost rid of those cookies. Well, seven of them. I suppose the remaining ones will allow themselves to sit for a while, terrified of their blendery fate… only, what’s that sound clicking along the floor of my apartment? Oh no, it’s a line of Thin Mints marching straight for my mouth. Damn you, Girl Scouts! Damn you and your evil cookies!