Blizzard approximates St. Louis original concrete

0 Comments | Gazette, The (Colorado Springs), Apr 15, 2005 | by BILL REED THE GAZETTE

Sunday's snowstorm prompted a lot of folks to stay inside and bake, but I felt inspired to head out and celebrate the 20th anniversary of the DQ Blizzard.

The new Berry CheeseQuake Blizzard, with big hunks of cheesecake swirled into creamy soft-serve, reminded me of eating ice cream on hot summer days during my childhood in St. Louis -- you know, except for the freezing temperatures and the white wall of snow outside.

In the Gateway City, a sacred trinity keeps people going through the sticky dog days of summer: Cardinals baseball, cold Budweiser beer and ice cream.

There are ice cream stands every few blocks in St. Louis, but one place is the Shangri-La of all lovers of the cream. Ted Drewes, founded in 1930.

On summer evenings, lines snaked out from the windows of the Ted Drewes frozen custard shack. People lounged on car hoods in the parking lot as Jack Buck's voice car- ried the details of that night's Cardinal game.

The treat everybody came to Ted Drewes for was the "concrete," a concoction of frozen custard and mixed-in fruit or candy bars so thick the servers confidently turned it upside down when they handed it to you.

Lo and behold, in 1984 the operator of a Dairy Queen in St. Louis came up with a novel item he called a "concrete." Where ever did he dream up with such a thing?

After extensive testing deep in the DQ laboratories, the chain rolled out the newly christened "Blizzard," swirling goodies into their soft serve. (Ever notice that DQ isn't allowed to call the product "ice cream?" Makes you wonder.)

So, I celebrated the 20th anniversary of the Blizzard, which is a reasonable facsimile of the concretes I love.

Although it's sad that most of America can't taste the real thing, DQ has succeeded in taking a good idea and spreading it to 5,400 stores across the world.

Local DQ managers in Colorado Springs tell me the Blizzard remains their besting menu item, as the chain has sold almost a billion of them.

Imagine Larry and Marge in Idaho when they stumbled into the rural community center known as DQ and discovered the Blizzard.

"Whoa. A snickers bar INSIDE this cup of ice cream? Crazy!"

And so spread the glory of mix-ins, the magic of swirling ice cream together with hunks of Twix bars, chunks of toffee or mounds of blueberries.

Now, plain ol' vanilla is almost pass. The ice cream chains moving in -- Cold Stone Creamery, Maggie Moos, Marble Slab Creamery - - specialize in cramming mounds of goodies into ice cream.

Even the two-nice-guys brands -- Josh & John's locally and Ben & Jerry's nationally -- are known for generous hunks of stuff and unusual combinations of flavors.

DQ's back-slapping press release boasts, "Still served upside down with a spoon on the side, the Blizzard Flavor Treat is perhaps one of the most imitated ice cream innovations since the ice cream cone."

True, but let's remember that even the Blizzard was an imitation.

The credit for the concept actually goes to those mom-and-pop frozen custard stands that dot the Midwest.