Get caught up in Dairy Queen's M&M Blizzard

KEN HOFFMAN

This week, I reached out for a large M&M's Blizzard at Dairy Queen.

Here's the blueprint: Add two big scoops of M&M's candy to 21 ounces of vanilla soft-serve ice cream. Mix thoroughly, but gently.

Total calories: 820. Fat grams: 29. Manufacturer's suggested retail price: $2.70.

Of course, you could substitute nonfat yogurt for the ice cream and save one-fourth the calories. But I'd have to ask you to leave my car. Remember, no wimps allowed in the drive-through.

Blizzards are really nothing more than mixed-up, confused sundaes. With sundaes, the fun stuff rests on top. With Blizzards, everything is blended top to bottom.

Dairy Queen offers dozens of Blizzard add-ons. Here are the top five: Heath bars, Butterfingers, Reese's peanut butter cups, Oreo cookies and M&Ms.

You know, I really wanted Reese's peanut butter cups, but deadline was approaching and it's easier to type "M&M's."

Dairy Queen uses plain M&M's, never peanut. The M&M's arrive at Dairy Queen pre-crunched from the factory. Pre-crunched? How lazy can you get?

The Blizzard was invented in 1985 by a Dairy Queen store owner in St. Louis. The home office jumped on his idea right away and took Blizzards nationwide. They sold 100 million of them that first year.

Today, Blizzards remain the second most popular item on Dairy Queen's menu, trailing only the simple, yet strangely elegant, vanilla cone.

When I drive over to Dairy Queen, even on a 100-degree day in July, the forecast calls for a heavy Blizzard. And it has nothing to do with El Nino.

DQ blizzards are terrific. They start where cones leave off. With all those mix-ins, it's like biting into buried treasure. If you can find it in a candy store, you can find it in a Blizzard. They'll even throw in fruit and cookie dough.

There are strict rules governing the making of an M&M's Blizzard. First you fill a cup halfway with softserve, then a scoop of M&M's, then more soft-serve, then the crowning ladle of M&M's.

The whole thing gets spun, ever so gently, in a patented mixer that does nothing except make Blizzards. Talk about your age of specialization! If you even think about using the machine to make a milkshake, you have to deal with a shop steward. Next thing you know, Norma Rae will be picketing your drive-through and making bizarre acceptance speeches.

When presenting Blizzards to customers, employees must quickly turn them upside down to demonstrate their sludgelike viscosity. Thus the Blizzard slogan,"It's upsidedownright thick."

I order my M&M's Blizzard with an extra double jolt of hot fudge. I like my Blizzards to have the sweetness of Marie Osmond and the consistency of STP. They could hold my Blizzard upside down for a week, and nothing would come out.

Caution: Dairy Queen employees are highly skilled professionals - at least until school starts back up in September. Do not try the "upsidedownright" maneuver at home. Otherwise, you would wind up explaining to your dry cleaner that, uh, you got a 21-ounce chocolate stain on your pants because . . . well, you were pretending you worked at Dairy Queen.

He wouldn't believe you.

Ken Hoffman is a syndicated columnist who writes food reviews for people who prefer onion rings to arugula.