#rich nugget mdp

[juanasfanart]

WAITER WAITER MORE ROBBER NUGGET X RICH NUGGET PPLSSSS !!!!

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Art...

Hell's coming with me but its cowboy nugget real im please

[thathusenfulhu]

Milo Musings – a guide to iced milo in the city and suburb

(This article appeared on Lonumedhu.com sometime last year)

The Alchemist – Milo Dinosaur

You’ve probably heard of the Alchemist, the small café a stone’s throw from the beach in Hulhumale. Not a bad place to while away an afternoon, the streets aren’t too busy and there’s a pretty tree just by the entrance that bears flowers in MDP yellow and PPM pink. A portent of things to happen, perhaps.

Anyway, they call theirs the Milo Dinosaur and with good reason. It arrives in a jar on a saucer, topped off with chocolate ice cream crowned by a mound of milo. And that’s not all, the saucer is strewn with milo powder. Its visual impact is, as you can imagine, massive. You’re quite obviously contending with something primeval, gargantuan, the chocolate-malt beverage equivalent of a sauropod.

“This is exactly why Sodom went under,” says Ahmed. “You know? There was a fine line, and they crossed it. They couldn’t even see the line from where they were! This was the last straw.”

He contemplates the drink briefly, brow furrowed.

“At home, milo is about conservation,” he says. “But here, it’s about excess.”

“I wonder what palace of wisdom it leads to,” I mutter and take a sip. The milo is like a cold sea beneath the snow-capped iceberg of ice cream. It’s pleasant but, paradoxically, could use a bit more milo.

“Some guy just made a 12-kilo burger in Male,” says Ahmed who has an enviable knack for keeping on top of current events. “It was on the news.”

“That’s a phrase you don’t expect to hear,” I tell him. “12 kilo burger. 12 kilo masthuvaathakethi is much too common.”

I’ve reached the end of my drink. It’s good but I think the ice cream detracts from the overall flavour, it’s a tad too creamy.

“You know, if they were to go just a step further, the waiter would have to chuck a bucket of milo on you,” Ahmed adds. I’m inclined to agree. The bill arrives hefty as expected. 75 MVR for the milo. I leave thinking there’s a lesson in this somewhere, some golden nugget of wisdom that’s beyond my ability to glean.

 Citron – Iced Milo

“What the hell happened here?” I ask Ahmed. “Why’s it so full today?”

“Pay day,” says Ahmed.

It’s late afternoon and this seaside restaurant is thick with people. I order our drinks and wait, enjoying the setting. Waves lap lazily at the seawall, the sloping sun lends the sea a golden sheen. In the distance a plane takes off, its dull roar now an inextricable part of Male’s East Coast environs.  

“Citron’s a melting pot,” Ahmed begins. “Look around us. You get all sorts here.”

“What’s the draw, really?” I ask.

“It’s the sort of place that the middle class thinks the rich like. So, when they’re flush, they come here.”

“People with aspirations eh?”

“Yeah, you get the full spectrum.”

“The full spectrum.”

“Yeah, like those people over there. They’re obviously middle-aged businessmen in their Hameedia shirts and slacks.”

I look at them. One sits cross-legged, sipping from his tea.

“And the two guys at the next table,” says Ahmed.

I sneak a glance at them. They seem coarse. Cheap attire, cheap phones.

“That’s real subtle,” laughs Ahmed. “They’re working stiffs, probably delivery guys.”

He adjusts his sunnies. Another plane takes off.

“Look how that guy has his feet up on the chair,” he says inclining his head towards the next table. “And see the rich guy. He’s trying to drink his tea but that guy’s legs won’t let him. It’s like those legs are kicking him in the face.”

It’s true. The man wears an expression of extreme distaste, his eyes helplessly drawn to those offending limbs.

The milos arrive in tall glasses. I test mine. Smooth, cold. Lots of milo, not too much. Fair amount of sugar, though sometimes they can get a bit carried away here. Today, it’s a near perfect drink. Milo is simple at Citron, a back-to-basics thing.  At 30 bucks a pop, this is the cheapest of the lot.

What’s surprising is that a restaurant like Citron serves milo this cheap, don’t they know what Shell Beans does with theirs? Perhaps these restaurants are like parallel universes. Things that occur within one have no bearing on the other.

Regardless, it’s the best value for money milo I’ve come across so far. We stand. I look around before going to the counter. The guy at the next table, the one with his feet up on the chair, is leaving with his friend. And the rich man, spared the boorishness of that rube, attends to his cup of tea in peace.

 Kavarna – Iced Milo

Dusk is settling over Hulhumale. The surrounds are dim, the roads pretty much deserted. Kavarna, however, is busy. The tables outside are packed with diners. Or coffee-ers, enjoying a hot cuppa as the heat of the city wears off.

“Not sure about the type who comes here,” mentions Ahmed after we walk in and place our orders. “Not in familiar territory. Although, I feel these guys could get away without a proper cleaning job for quite a while.”

“Yeah, they did pretty well with the décor,” I say and we stroll back out and hang around for a table to be free.

At one table is a group of middle-aged Indian businessmen. Ahmed’s eye turns to them quickly.

“Hmm,” he remarks. “I wouldn’t have thought this their kind of place.”

“Their kind of place?” I laugh.

“Yeah, it’s too hip for them.”

“You might have a point.”

“Maybe a place like Seagull. Or even Sea House, that’s more their speed.”

The men stand up and vacate the table and we hurry to replace them lest the table feels lonely.

Soon, our drinks stand before us like a couple of chocolate soldiers, cold and still.

“The thing with Indian businessmen is that they’re mad about Dubai,” says Ahmed.

“I’m surprised. Why Dubai? Why not London or New York?”

“I’ve no idea,” he says scrunching up his face. “There was this guy at the airport once, an Indian guy, obviously quite successful going by his clothes. A Rolex, couple of golden chains. Real bling. Anyway, another Indian dude came up to him, he was slightly less successful-looking. And he asked the first guy where he was off to. And the guy said ‘Dubai, I live there’. And you could see the other guy’s face fall.”

“I wouldn’t have thought.”

“Yeah, that’s just horse manure,” says Ahmed grinning.

Shaking my head, I take a sip from my drink and it’s immediately clear that this is what I’ve been looking for. The deep, malty chocolate flavour is enhanced by crushed ice, which makes the drink thick and cool, but not at the expense of taste. I’ve made it, folks. This is milo heaven.

“Crushed ice,” says Ahmed wrinkling his face again. “I can’t stand it.”

“How dare you?” I reply. “That’s what makes it so good.”

“Eh,” says Ahmed. At times like this, I just want to punch his face in. His comment notwithstanding, let me assure you, dear reader, at 50MVR this is, with nary a doubt, the best of the bunch.

Honorable mention:

Shell Beans – Milo Monster

It’s actually pretty decent once you get them to hold the whipped cream. You’d have to part with 65MVR though.