When I was a kid, I'd ride in my grandparents' old Jeep on the long drive up to their summer cabin in the mountains. We'd always stop for ice cream at a little place in Evanston, Wyoming called the Dew Drop Inn. I always asked for a Black Raspberry milkshake, because the flavor sounded so exotic ... and they tasted wonderful. This afternoon I finished up a long, hot day of fieldwork outside of Red Lodge, Montana, and I decided to celebrate with a milkshake at the little drive inn there. They had black raspberry, and it was almost as good as I remembered.