A Milkshake Unrivaled

Over the last few years, few events have caused as much anticipation and excitement as the Clark milkshake contest. Each year, whenever most of my family can get together, we set aside one afternoon or evening where each of the kids, their spouses, and my parents make the finest milkshake they can imagine, to be judged by whomever is set to judge that year, in hopes winning "The Winner's Cup."

The contest started six years ago, a few weeks after I got back from my mission. While on my mission I'd read an Ensign article that suggested milkshake contests between spouses as a good idea for dates. I thought it sounded like a good idea for our family--since the Clarks seem to thrive more on competition than cooperation (often to a fault).

I judged the first contest by myself, without any specific criteria for what I thought made the best milkshake. Leanne won with a plain but pleasantly thick chocolate milkshake. Over the years, though, the whole judging, scoring, and making process have evolved dramatically. Here are a few highlights:

• There are four prizes: 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and Most Creative. The "Most Creative" category seems to have come about as a way to placate my youngest brother, Peter, who had a very hard time not winning.
• Both the 1st place winner and the Most Creative winner from the previous year become the judges for the following year.
• The judges each year are free to set their own criteria for what makes the best milkshake, though it has generally included such categories as: taste, color, texture, thickness, and creativity. The scores are put on score sheets now, with comments from the judges attached.
• For some years now the scoring process has been blind, meaning that the judges don't know whose milkshake they are judging. As one might imagine, before this was instituted outcries of favoritism were far most common than congratulations. Oddly, the institution of blind scoring has not all together diminished the cries of favoritism (and insinuations of secret deals between judges and contestants), though it does imbue the process with a bit more legitimacy.
• One key rule is that everyone has to have available the same base ice cream, as well as any add-ins. This keeps people like my Dad in check, who otherwise would buy Haggen- Daas for his base, while the rest of us compete with a generic tub of vanilla. (No--for those wondering, Breyer's ice cream is not a good ice cream for milkshakes. It's too airy. You want thick ice cream for milkshakes). This means that a few people every year take orders for what people expect they'll need for their milkshake and fill them with a pool of money--no high priced secrets are allowed.
• Michelle last year also instituted measures to make sure that everyone's ice cream is still frozen when the their turn comes up. This was necessary because with only 2 or 3 blenders (we try to borrow neighbors' blenders) we have to stagger the entries. What was happening was that earlier contests would simply leave the ice cream out for later contestants. It didn't take long for the ice cream to melt, all but ruining the thickness and consistency of the milkshakes of later entrants. Last year, Michelle pre-scooped everyone's ice cream and put them into baggies. These baggies are left in the freezer until needed.
• The judges score in secrecy, with a new milkshake brought every few minutes in a small cup (the contestants keep the rest). Once the scoring is complete and they've conferred with each other, they emerge to announce the winners in a suspenseful ceremony. All of the contests are then given their scoring sheets with comments attached.

Some highlights over the years:

• Nathan's dreadfully awful Yaqua Milkshake made only days after he returned from his mission in Korea. Yaqua is supposed to be an oily Korean "cookie" but tastes more bland than pleasurable. That year, it was all we could do to keep him from putting kimchi in his shake.
• Dad's insistence that my winning milkshake a few years ago had mango ("Wow, that tasted like mango"). Dad was all to easily deceived with my mixture of a few tart sherberts with a bit of apple juice.
• Pat Lefave's family crashing the milkshake making contest and submitting entries last year, only to have his wife finish in last place when she ill-advisedly put a purple popsicle in her milkshake. It might not have been so memorable if she had not spent so much time talking up the shake and her knowledge of the process before the ceremony. (Perhaps she'll be a bit slower next time to think she should advise any Clark on how to make a proper milkshake!).
• Melissa's peppermint milkshake (a great idea, though a little too much peppermint extract) narrowly losing out to Sarah's cheesecake milkshake last year. These entries signaled how much more refined the contest is becoming.

Anyway, this Monday evening we'll have yet another iteration of the Clark Milkshake Making Contest. Michelle and Sarah are the judges this year (Michelle got most creative last year). What am I making? I'd rather not say just yet to shield myself from accusations of bias, but I'll be sure to keep you posted. Needless to say, I'm feeling rather confident this year. I'm also fairly confident that once the winner is announced, someone is likely to be in tears, another will likely storm out of the room and not speak to anyone for a time, and most will accuse the winner of cheating. I can't wait!