I don’t know about you, but I need a chocolate milk a day or else I get withdrawal. Is this healthy? Well, no, I don’t suppose that it is. Do I care? No, I don’t.
To those afraid of the adverse effects on health, perhaps you’re just not serious enough about your cocoa. This is a lifestyle that mandates total devotion, like a mendicant friar or monk. I can also attest that, having imbibed hundreds—nay, thousands—of these delicacies, I feel fit as a fiddle. By this I mean I’m completely immobile and require to be transported wherever I go.
Here at SLU, students regard their chocolate-milk-of-choice with a near religious reverence. As a result, controversies and quarrels of Biblical proportions arise whenever the subject is broached. Indeed, the Catholics and Protestants have nothing on the Byrne versus the Byrne “World Famous” flocks.
Such are the two main schools of thought when it comes to Pub chocolate milk: those who prefer Byrne Chocolate Milk in the larger, rectangular box, and those who prefer Byrne’s “World Famous” Chocolate Milk in the smaller, sexier vessel. There are also radical adherents to a third-party, Silk Chocolate Almond Milk, which I will explain later.
Most people, in my experience, opt for the larger libation. And it’s easy to see why. The taste is pleasant but not usurpatious on the palate, and it is light enough where one can drain the whole quart without afterwards feeling the need for a cesarean section. It is not meant to be sipped but glugged, and pairs well with heavier victuals such as steaks or stews.
I, however, am a proud partisan of the “World Famous” faction, and I know damn well that I’m in the minority here. Drinkers of the other label put forth some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. That is: why sacrifice taste for quantity, especially when Pub money is superfluous?
If the former chocolate milk is Tito’s, then Byrne “World Famous” is Ciroc. The first feeling one registers as it reaches the tongue is complete euphoria—the utter suspension of all sensation save unmitigated bliss. It must be better than crack. Upon first contact, one can’t help but slink back in one’s chair, and if one is standing then one must sit immediately. It demands to be savored devoid of any concentration on motor function or other comparatively meaningless distractions.
Where the former milk-product is light and swift, “World Famous” is languid and divine. The drink must be sipped, slowly. Think of it as you would a reserve Côte de Nuits. I prefer drinking it standalone so as not to let invasive food flavors contaminate the enjoyment. It is thicker, which puts some people off, but draws me right in. This thickness underscores the chocolate flavor whereas the thinner drink seems to dilute it, raising cause for concern. Indeed, just what does it have to hide? I regret to inform you that the answer is the chocolate itself.
Invariably, the chocolate quality in the “World Famous” recipe is better than its competitor, and to me that’s where the argument ends. Friends can happily debate desired textures and quantities and what-not, but, as for myself, detente ends where flavor begins. Since chocolate milk is consumed for no other reason than taste—the taste of chocolate—why compromise on the point that matters most?
Alas, some say that regular Byrne does taste better than “World Famous” Byrne. Hearing this, one’s immediate reaction is that they are saying something demonstrably untrue. (Just try them and see for yourself!) But that’s not necessarily the case. There’s no objective measurement by which we can judge subjective taste. There are some obvious indicators which suggest a better quality experience in the “World Famous” milk, such as a smaller quantity and larger price, but these are not universal proofs in themselves.
All I can wonder is, why have the watered-down when one can have the pure? Why have skim when one can have whole? Why settle for much mediocrity where there can be had a little luxury? For generations, households have broken out in civil wars over such questions. I don’t know whether differences on this matter are reconcilable, but on the question of Byrne versus Byrne “World Famous” chocolate milk, I know where I stand. Do you?
HONORABLE MENTIONS
Well, I think we owe some respect to Silk Chocolate Almond Milk. While it doesn’t make the top-two, it deserves an honorable mention. The heart of the problem is, almond milk simply doesn’t taste as good as regular milk. I know for saying this I will receive a salad of letters from, like, the Green House or something, but the fact remains that if it tasted better, it wouldn’t be so niche. As a result, chocolate almond milk—no matter how well made—tastes inferior to regular chocolate milk, unless the latter is exceptionally bad.
I would make the argument, however, that the Silk doesn’t need to be as good as its relatives. I often drink it because, while the taste is pleasant, the moral considerations against consuming industrialized cows’ milk are persuasive. (And yes, I know, almond farming is bad for the environment too, but choices must be made).
The people who say that Silk tastes better than Byrne are the same people who push the silly lie that, say, eggplant parmesan is better than chicken parmesan. It’s not. Even though eggplant parm is amazing, it doesn’t hold a candle to the chicken. The irony, however, is that it doesn’t need to taste better. It’s morally better already to eat vegetarian, and that reason is good enough to welcome eggplant over chicken.
So there’s no point in proselytizing others through the axiom of taste. Likewise, there’s no reason why one must try to delude oneself and others into thinking that Silk tastes better than Byrne when it’s clearly not, because there’s value enough in the ethics of the choice, and in such decisions taste is a subordinate consideration.
Despite this, it would be absurd to pretend that Silk Chocolate Almond Milk isn’t fantastic. It is creamy and chocolatey without the sickly, dispiriting texture typical of other almond milks.
However, the Pub version comes in a kindergarten package that contains no more than five good slurps, and one has to consume 11 to feel even remotely satiated. While this makes it easier to drink on-the-go, chocolate milk—like scotch—is not something one can or should appreciate kinetically.
A fourth option that I hesitate even to bring to public attention is the Silk Soy Chocolate Milk—a “milk” so miserably bad that one is better off drinking nothing at all. Once ingested, you will realize that it is neither chocolate nor milk.