Drink This: Spiked Milkshakes At 25 Degrees

By Melissa Wiley in Food on Aug 9, 2012 3:20PM

On the surface, milkshakes may bespeak simpler times, the ’50s malt shop and its virginal patrons wearing ironed socks, but some of us seek out complexity. If we stumble into River North’s 25 Degrees, for instance, we expect more from our hamburgers than a piece of grilled ground beef enclosed within a bleached-flour bun. We require a ground sirloin prelibato gorgonzola or perhaps an emmi gruyere burger with a slice of jalapeno bacon and an effete slathering of tarragon remoulade pesto. We love these long-winded culinary options, and we now demand them of our milkshakes as well. A little booze thrown in doesn’t hurt.

Inside 25 Degrees, we’re faux-fanning ourselves with limp wrists while lounging like burlesque voluptuaries inside a veritable burger bordello bedecked with French toile wallpaper and black crystal chandeliers. You don’t think we’re going to settle for a beverage that's less debauched than we are, do you? Pshaw! We throatily order a $10 salty caramel milkshake with bourbon, butterscotch, vanilla bean ice cream, and Hawaiian red sea salt.

Or perhaps we should opt for the lustier el pirata, with dark rum, Cruzan rum, pineapple, and coconut ice cream. No, no, our impossibly heavy eyelids signal the waiter once again for the night owl, which carnally intermixes Godiva dark chocolate liqueur with Trader Vic's chocolate ice cream.

Yes, we are now sipping our liqueur and our half-melted ice cream through a straw à la Beaver Cleaver in another scarcely fathomable space-time dimension. But our spiked milkshakes hardly recall any such black and white soda jerk nostalgia. Rather, they revel in complex crepuscular textures reminiscent of the lingerie worn by this above-ground bordello’s sultry clientele. And they impart a buzz. We leave the simpler stuff to the philistines with nothing but white cotton undies in their uppermost dresser drawer.

25 Degrees is located at 736 N. Clark St.