Peachy Frosteds

I've got a summertime treat straight out of the 70's for you this week!   Check out the attention to detail in this photo of Peachy Frosteds from "Ceil Dyer's Coffee Cookery", published in 1978.  The themed napkins!  The wicker cup holders!  The rough volcanic rocks in the background, like this is the frickin' Playboy Grotto!  I love it!

♫If you like drinking Peachy Frosteds, 
And being surprised by precipitation♫...

Ok, this didn't taste very refreshing, but it wasn't as bad as I originally thought it would be.  I had predicted after my first reading of this recipe that this would taste like a Cough-syrup Colada.  Well, I am woman enough to admit that it doesn't... but I still wouldn't make it a second time.  The peaches are the primary flavour here, and since the recipe calls for canned peaches in syrup, there is a cloying aspect to them that I don't care for.  The recipe could be improved by substituting fresh peaches.  The instant coffee gives the drink a slightly bitter aftertaste, but I don't find that this flavour compliments or balances the peaches... they just compete.  Using a coffee liqueur instead of instant coffee would have added to the overall sweetness of the beverage, but the tastes would blend together a bit better.  I thought this would turn out thicker, with the blended peaches and the ice cream adding texture, but it is actually quite thin and frothy.  I would have enjoyed it more if it was a little thicker ("That's what she said!").  Crushed ice blended in would have done the trick. 

Now, that's just my humble opinion of the Peachy Frosteds.  To see its true potential for disaster, you need to combine questionable food choices with questionable personal choices.  And for that, we must turn to MWSBET Fan Fiction Theatre! (Warning: Probably not appropriate for children!)

The year is 1978.  Men have moustaches.  Women have feathered hair.  Rupert Holmes won't write a misogynistic song about personal ads, mutual infidelity, and piña coladas for another year.

Cathy opens her eyes.  The sunlight is just starting to bring a soft glow to the room.  She adjusts her modesty bedsheet and rolls over to look at the man lying next to her in the bed.  Crap.  What is his name again?  Matthew?  Andrew?  Brad?  Whatever his name is, he has the casual good looks of a member of the Swedish curling team.  She sees his wallet sitting on the nightstand, and stretches her arm over his chest towards it.  If she could just read his driver's license...  

Her slender arm brushes against his abundant chest hair (this is the 70's, remember?) and he stirs, blinking in the morning light.  Cathy props herself up on one arm and smiles coquettishly at her lover.  "Good morning, Handsome," she purrs.

"Cathy... do you know how radiant you look?" he asks in his seductive baritone.  "How did you sleep last night?"

She feels her skin flush warm under his stare.  "Barely at all.  It was wonderful."

He kisses Cathy's mouth, neck, collarbone, and shoulder, his full moustache tickling her soft skin.

"Cathy," he murmurs, "there's something I'd like to give you right now, that I think you'll really enjoy."

"Oh really?  And what would that be?" she whispers, her desire building again.

"Close your eyes," the man replies, raising one eyebrow.

Cathy closes her eyes in anticipation.  She feels the bed shift as he moves and then...nothing happens.  A moment passes and she hears the blender whirring in her kitchen.  She opens her eyes again, mildly disappointed.  This isn't exactly what she had in mind, but she won't turn down breakfast.

When he returns to the bedroom he is balancing a tray with two glasses of sick looking beige froth.  

"Er...  Darling?  What exactly is that?"  Cathy inquires, her face a polite mask.

"They're called Peachy Frosteds.  A special drink for a special lady."  He hands her a glass.

In spite of her better judgement, Cathy has a sip of the beverage.   She immediately regrets it.  Beneath the syrupy sweetness of the peaches, there is another taste that is more difficult to identify.  

He sees her look of consternation and misidentifies it as the focussed appreciation of a connoisseur.  "The drink gets its unique finish from a special ingredient: instant coffee!",  he says with a broad smile.  He has perfect teeth, but now all Cathy can see is the peach foam clinging to his moustache.  She knows that she has made a huge mistake.

"Listen," she searches her memory, in vain, for his name.  "Listen, Handsome... I think you need to leave now."

He gives her a puzzled look.  "Why?  Is your husband coming home early?"

She spots his crumpled shirt on the floor and his necktie attached to the bedpost.  She deftly unfastens the tie, picks up the shirt, and hands the bundle of clothing to her confused paramour.  "No.  I've just got to... I've got a thing I need to do to this morning.  You understand, right?  You should go."  She wraps the bedsheet around her body and herds him down the hall to the apartment door.  "I think your pants are still on the fire escape.  I'll toss them down and you can get them on the way to your car."

He hurriedly tries to cover himself as she nudges him out the door.  "You've got my number!  Give me a call tonight and we'll..."  Cathy shuts the door before he can finish his sentence.

Fin

* * * * * *

See???  See the sort of sexy havoc that questionable food and/or drink can lead to?  Drink the Peachy Frosted at your own risk!

Peachy Frosteds

1 (16 oz) can sliced peaches in syrup, undrained

1 cup cold milk

1 tablespoon instant coffee

1/2 pint vanilla ice cream

Maraschino cherries for garnish

Set aside 4 peach slices for garnish.  Place remaining peaches in syrup, milk and instant coffee powder in blender container.  Blend on high speed until smooth.  Add ice cream.  Blend until creamy.  Pour into 4 glasses.  Garnish with peach slices and maraschino cherries. Makes 4 servings.