Shaken, not Stirred: The Critic Te Arohi Milkshake Review

Shaken, not Stirred: The Critic Te Arohi Milkshake Review

Who the fuck invented milkshakes? They may seem like a good idea, but after you’ve chugged several litres of milk on a boiling Thursday afternoon, they really start to feel like a terrible idea. And this was the predicament we found ourselves in. With rumbly, bubbly tummies and rapidly deteriorating morale, we asked each milkshake dispenser in North D to “surprise us” with a flavour, and then did our best to hold all that dairy in for the next 48 hours. For what it’s worth, no boys came to our yard. Not a single fucking one.

Night ’n’ Day Regent Street - Jelly Tip - $5.50

The Night and Day Jelly Tip Milkshake was the milkshakeiest of all the milkshakes sampled. It was as chunky as vomit and did not taste like a Jelly Tip in the slightest. Despite the average state of the milkshake, it is not hard to imagine that a stoned and/or drunk person at 2 am would consider this one of the best things they ever tasted. They would then revisit Night ‘n’ Day sober, having raved to their friends about the fantastic qualities of this shake, only to discover the truth, that the Jelly Tip milkshake tastes exactly how it looks: curdled 6th-birthday-party-vomit in a chest freezer.

Milkiness: 10/10
Stomach churnability: 8/10
How it tastes on the way back up: Jelly-ish but with an overt vodka flavour.

Maccas - Strawberry -  $4.90

This milkshake was absolutely fucked. The first concern was the neon pink colour, which just screamed that this drink was not fit for human consumption. The second red (pink?) flag was the taste. The wage slaves at Maccas must have run out of milkshake flavouring and just used the handsoap in the bathrooms instead, because the overpowering jam-flavoured strawberry syrup was sickening. Also, for the price, it was far too small. Despite the size, though, it left a lasting and loathsome impression. If you want to feel ok after drinking a milkshake of this calibre, you need to bathe in holy water. This drink is plastic. This drink is Type II diabetes. This drink is how you get ants. 

Milkiness: 5/10
Stomach churnability: 10/10
How it tastes on the way back up: Like it could sterilise your oesophagus.

Rob Roy - Coffee - $3.80

If the Rob Roy milkshake was a sex position it would be shaking hands. But after the trauma of the Maccas milkshake, the bland coffee flavour of this shake was a godsend. The texture was probably too clumpy, but this was all good as it made up for the boring flavour. Why people would spend good money on a coffee flavoured milkshake when they could buy an iced coffee, with actual caffeine in it, is beyond me. But, that said, it was better than expected. Rob Roy does give you the tallest drink in town cups, which is absolute nostalgia bait and by far the coolest milkshake cup you can possibly receive. Points for that.

Milkiness: 6/10
Stomach churnability: 4/10
How it tastes on the way back up: Still better than Starbucks.

George St Dairy - Caramel - $3.90

This is by far the foamiest milkshake on offer in Dunedin, and some people really froth their froth. Besides that nice little feature it was just… weird. It tasted like some sort of liquid that you feed to undernourished animals to bring them back up to strength. Gingerbread is probably the closest comparison to the flavour and it sure as shit did not taste like caramel so who knows what was going on there. 

Milkiness: 9/10
Stomach churnability: 7/10
How it tastes on the way back up: just like Christmas morning, hangover and all.

Burger ‘n’ Beast - Chocolate Brownie Fudge - $8

There is no phrase that sums up the essence of this milkshake as perfectly as “It is like someone half-chewed a biscuit and then spat it into your mouth.” Somehow this was not an awful experience. It was sorta salty which was weird, given the aforementioned half-chewed biscuit texture. Burger ‘n’ Beast does get some slack because the milkshake was melted and almost warm when it was sampled which clearly added to the generally terrible experience. Can’t blame them for that one. But it was weird. It was also milkshake number five and we were really starting to suffer from milkshake fatigue.

Milkiness: 5/10
Stomach churnability: 8/10
How it tastes on the way back up: about the same as the way down, honestly.

Burger Plant -  Chocolate - $6.50

This was the only vegan shake and honestly, it was a cut above the rest. Maybe it was because the coconut milk provided some relief from the dairy deluge that this review had become, but this one was light and refreshing. Veganism really starts to sound reasonable when you’re six milkshakes deep and battling. Yes, it did possibly taste a little bit like conditioner, but who doesn’t like conditioner? It makes your hair silky and smooth, just like this milkshake. Fuckin’ slaps, and didn’t make us shit ourselves.

Milkiness: 0/10, technically
Stomach churnability: 1/10
How it tastes on the way back up: you can keep this one down, actually.

Kiki Beware - Banoffee - $6.50 

Seafoam-like froth overflowed from the top of this milkshake, but beyond that it was exceptionally boring. The flavour was supposed to banoffee but it just tasted like someone just blended up a slightly burnt loaf of banana bread. Texture was minimal but thank God they didn’t try to put chunks of half chewed banana bread in it. To be honest after consuming multiple litres of this milky gunk it was pretty hard to be impressed. It looks like yak and made us want to yak. Sorry Kiki. Admittedly this may be entirely due to the fact that the last thing you want after six milkshakes is a seventh, so definitely try it out yourself and make your own conclusions. Our brains, at this point in the review, had been completely soaked in milk. 

Milkiness: 10/10
Stomach churnability: 5/10
How it tastes on the way back up: probably like the George Street one did on the way down.

This article first appeared in Issue 3, 2022.
Posted 12:56pm Sunday 13th March 2022 by Sean Gourley.