![]() The desert towns I grew up in were places like Tempe, Arizona, and Indio, California, but improbably, nothing transports me quite as viscerally back to childhood as a mug of Milo-the spoon clinking against the mug, that wafting chocolaty steam. Milo, as Mayne came to be called, drank his own proverbial Kool-Aid: He raised his four children on Milo, and himself drank a cup of Milo every day until he died at age 93. In the early days it was marketed as a “fortified tonic food” that could “sooth senses, induce sleep, and nourish the sick.” Another vintage ad boasted that “regular cups of hot, delicious Milo” would “increase your resistance to winter ills.” Today Nestle still advertises that Milo “offers essential vitamins and minerals to meet the nutrition and energy demands of young bodies and minds.” Mr. Developed in Sydney in 1934 by an industrial chemist named Thomas Mayne, the drink was meant to fortify children who weren’t getting enough nutrients because of the Depression. and, it’s probably safe to say, didn’t have chocolate for breakfast. It’s correctly pronounced “My-lo,” after Milo of Croton, a Greek wrestler who lived in the sixth century B.C. My parents pronounced Milo “Mee-lo,” making it sound sort of Chinese, even though it’s anything but. But it was always my dad who did the mixing. (Also, the powder never dissolved completely there was always a bit that you had to either avoid or swallow in a dense lump.) My mom’s version was slightly stronger-as with most things in life, she is more liberal than my dad-and his Milo always tasted more austere (not very sweet, mostly water with not enough milk). The result was a chocolate-flavored hot water that tasted a little like cereal. He would then use the spoon to convey Milo powder into our mugs and add hot water, followed by the smallest splash of milk. The can had a lid like a paint can’s, which my dad would open with a spoon handle. ![]() Milo came in a ridged sporty green canister with the image of a young boy in high white kneesocks dramatically kicking a soccer ball (excuse me: football). Milo is bizarrely ubiquitous in Malaysia, where I was born and lived until I was two, and where my parents were raised. ![]() I say unlikely because my childhood was spent mostly in suburban Arizona and Southern California, and Milo is an Australian chocolate-and-malt powder made by the Swiss brand Nestle. I grew up drinking an unlikely beverage called Milo for breakfast. Sometimes you need a break from the craziness of this modern age, which is why we're celebrating nostalgic foods this week at.
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