Blue Milk: 3 Recipes For Star Wars Fans


You can complain a lot about Star Wars. There’s so much to complain about. But you can’t complain about Blue Milk.

Whatever weird stuff Uncle Lars and Aunt Beru were spooning into their faces for dinner at the moisture farm, they still knew how to serve a decent beverage.

Of course, let’s not be too rough on Aunt Beru. She had to cook with pots that looked like they’ve been removed directly from a SAAB 900.

She made do. Life’s tough on Tattooine.

But you know what? If you want to live the Star Wars dream through your stomach, it’s tough to find anything to really cling to.

Take for example, the horrible menu on Dagobah. You can have Rebellion Rations, which look to be a nasty stick mixed from oatmeal and beefjerky. Or the much worse looking swamp stew, that looks to be pretty much the same thing, but boiled down with water, and with the added taste of – brown. No wonder Luke had second thoughts about coming to Dagobah.

Nobody asks much about Darth Vader’s diet. Not THESE days, anyway.

Sure. Those heady days floating space fruit to Padme were… delicious, in an unreconstructed Hefner kind of way, but after you have your arms and legs burnt off, your desire for food would understandably drop off.

But you would have to eat, wouldn’t you? No matter how much Dark Side power kept you going.

Thesis: that when Darth was in his isolation chamber, he’d take off the helmet and start in on the space snacks. That isolation chamber – it’s the one place in the Star Wars universe where you could binge eat and get away with it. Where you could binge – and purge. Think about it! Darth’s not going to be too together psychologically, is he? If he is going to eat, he doesn’t want minions gawking at his semi-zombified flesh, is he?

Helmet on – it’s never going to happen. Which begs the question – just what was he going to do on Cloud City?

A simple ‘no thank you’ to sugar in your coffee would have sufficed.


Lando, Leia and the gang were going to sit down and have a drink, maybe nibble something delightful from the lower cloud levels of Bespin, and what was Darth going to do? Sit there? Push plates awkwardly to the other guests? Try to stick a straw through his mouth grill? Vainly push breadsticks into his face?

I don’t think he ever intended to sit down with Luke’s friends and get to know them over light snacks at all. Never, in the slightest.

Perhaps, in general, he was just so consumed with rage and bitterness that he never ate again after Obi Wan gave him the ‘burn half to death, mutherfucker, and then I’ll just leave you’ (that shit was cold, Obi) treatment.

Perhaps his high midichlorian count got him through the day.

It could be a Jedi thing. Look at Luke – the more buff and dangerous he became in his Dagobah training days, the less he ate. Or, if he did eat, the more horrible it became. More of that brown shit that looked like a cow ate a cow pat and then vomited it back up. A swamp is not a supermarket. Words to live by normally, but more so on Dagobah. To think that this was the simple young farmboy and avid space craft modder who dreamed of fighting the Empire or of going down to Tosche station to pick up power converters.

He was happy in those days, if a bit dull: no matter how much Luke was the ostensible hero of Star Wars, he was never, quite… Han.

Which brings us back to his days on the moisture farm, and his craving for the blue milk.


Obviously, you want a recipe for blue milk.

Here’s the simple, boring, Uncle Lars recipe:

Get some blue food dye. Add it to milk. Voila!


 Another way to get Blue Milk? Shove a hydrospanner into his frozen joints and make him bleed the stuff out. Oh my! 


Now, here’s the C-3PO, OCD recipe that is unreasonably time consuming and preposterously immature, but in the end you’ll have C-3PO’s Blue Milk.

Get a giant box of Froot Loops, or rubbish generic equivalent.

Take out all the blue loops, one at a time, and put them into a jug.

Pour milk onto them.

Let sit for at least five minutes. Stir very gently with a long spoon.

Pour through a sieve/funnel into your glass, or into a bottle for refrigeration (so you can have blue milk whenever you want it!).

Some people stand firmly on either side of the cereal milk divide, some people love it, others are horrified by it (if you don’t believe me, please listen to the Nerdist podcast) but in this case we have to say that the journey is the greater part of the fun for this version of blue milk. There’s also the flavour to consider – as blue food dye is flavourless, which when you think about it, makes the Uncle Lars recipe sound pretty revolting. Although milk is milk. How bad can it be?


Believe in the Han Solo option, baby.


The next possibility for Blue Milk is The Han Solo Option. A bit more grown up, a bit more dangerous. Shoots first. Frankly, more things in life should have a ‘Han Solo Option’.

Go to your local liquor store. Buy vodka, Blue Curacao (it’s a thing) and stop by the 7-11/Circle K for at least two litres of milk. Actually, make that four litres.

Do not, under any circumstance, reach parity between then amount of milk you have and the amount of alcoholic beverage you have in the ensuing mixture. Anyone who has fallen afoul of The Dude’s (from The Big Lebowski) White Russian will tell you that that is a literally a recipe for disaster.

The vodka is there so the whole thing doesn’t get too blue, and to ensure the point of it all: so the imbiber will feel that they do the Kessel Run in less than 12 Parsecs. i.e. the impossible.

The impossible. Like wear a hipster vest and still pick up a princess. That’s sooo Han Solo.

In any case, when it comes to pouring into your glass, here’s the mixture: one part vodka, one part Blue Curacao and three parts milk. Do not let yourself run out of milk, because you will start getting into the Romulan Ale territory of straight vodka and Blue Curacao, which is lethal (but awesome, but Star Trek).

So there you have it, the three ways of Blue Milk.

Now you’re ready to serve the perfect beverage at your Star Wars Blu-ray (BLUE! RAY! BAHAHAHA!) party.

- Oscar Hillerstrom


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