Five dollars.
In 1994, that sounded like a lot for a milkshake. Martin and Lewis—or rather, the "Martin and Lewis" milkshake ordered by Mia Wallace in Pulp Fiction—became an instant pop-culture icon not because of the ingredients, but because of the sticker shock. Vincent Vega, played by John Travolta, couldn’t believe it. He literally asked if there was bourbon in it. There wasn't. It was just milk and ice cream.
Honestly, the milkshake Martin and Lewis reference is one of those tiny details that Quentin Tarantino used to ground his stylized world in a weird, relatable reality. You’ve probably sat in a diner and winced at a price tag before. But back then, $5 for a shake was highway robbery. Today? You can barely get a mediocre fast-food shake for five bucks. It’s funny how inflation makes Vincent Vega look like a cheapskate, though at the time, he was making a valid point about the audacity of Jack Rabbit Slim’s pricing.
What Exactly Is a Martin and Lewis?
When Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) sits down at Jack Rabbit Slim’s, the waiter—a Buddy Holly impersonator played by Steve Buscemi—asks her how she wants her shake. She has two choices: a "Martin and Lewis" or a "Amos 'n' Andy."
It’s a color-coded joke.
The "Martin and Lewis" is a vanilla shake. It’s named after the legendary comedy duo Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis. Specifically, it represents the "white" duo. On the flip side, the "Amos 'n' Andy" was the chocolate version, referencing the famous (and controversial) Black characters from radio and early television. Mia goes with the vanilla. She wants the Martin and Lewis.
Tarantino didn't just pick these names because they sounded "retro." He picked them because Jack Rabbit Slim’s is a "wax museum with a pulse." The names reflect the 1950s setting of the restaurant, a time when Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis were the biggest stars on the planet. They were the epitome of cool and slapstick combined. By naming a vanilla shake after them, Tarantino subtly highlights the kitschy, often racialized branding of mid-century Americana that the restaurant is desperately trying to recreate.
The Anatomy of the $5 Shake
Let's talk about the actual drink. In the film, Buddy Holly brings it out with a cherry on top. Mia takes a sip. Vincent waits, skeptical, then asks for a taste.
"I gotta know what a five-dollar shake tastes like," he says.
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He takes a sip. His eyes widen slightly. "I don't know if it's worth five dollars, but it's pretty f***ing good."
What made it good? According to the lore and various behind-the-scenes interviews, it wasn't some artisanal blend of Madagascar vanilla beans and grass-fed cream. It was just a thick, classic diner shake. However, the scene worked because it focused on the sensory experience of eating. The way Mia uses the straw, the thick consistency, the red cherry—it’s food porn before that was even a term.
The Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis Connection
To understand why the milkshake Martin and Lewis name matters, you have to understand the duo. Dean Martin was the "straight man"—suave, singing, always with a drink in hand. Jerry Lewis was the "monkey"—high-pitched, frantic, physical. They were opposites that worked perfectly.
Using their names for a vanilla milkshake is a bit of an irony. Vanilla is often seen as "plain" or "boring," but Martin and Lewis were anything but. Yet, in the context of the 1950s, vanilla was the standard. It was the "default" American flavor. Dean Martin, with his Italian roots, and Jerry Lewis, with his Jewish heritage, actually represented a shift in what an "American" star looked like, even if they were presented as the ultimate "white" comedy team.
The milkshake Martin and Lewis choice also tells us something about Mia Wallace. She chooses the "white" shake, the "safe" choice, but she drinks it with a level of intensity that makes it seem dangerous. It’s part of her characterization. She’s a woman of expensive tastes who lives in a world of high-stakes crime, yet she finds genuine joy in a tall glass of blended dairy.
Why Five Dollars Became a Cultural Milestone
In 1994, the federal minimum wage was $4.25 an hour.
Think about that. Vincent Vega was looking at a milkshake that cost more than an hour of honest labor. That’s why the price mattered. It wasn't just a random number; it was a symbol of the excess and the "tourist trap" nature of Jack Rabbit Slim's.
If we adjust for inflation, $5 in 1994 is roughly equivalent to $10.50 today. Now, if you go to a high-end burger joint or a specialty creamery in Los Angeles or New York, you might actually pay $10 or $12 for a milkshake. Tarantino was actually a bit of a prophet. He predicted the rise of the "premium" version of basic comfort foods.
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- The "Martin and Lewis" (Vanilla): $5.00
- The "Amos 'n' Andy" (Chocolate): $5.00
- The Durward Kirby Burger: $6.82
- Douglas Sirk Steak: $15.00 (Bloody as hell or burnt to a crisp)
The menu at Jack Rabbit Slim's was designed to be overpriced. It was a theme restaurant. You aren't paying for the food; you're paying for the atmosphere, the Ed Sullivan impersonator, and the chance to sit in a booth made out of a 1959 Edsel.
The Mystery of the "Martin and Lewis" Recipe
Fans have spent decades trying to replicate the exact milkshake Martin and Lewis experience. While the movie doesn't give a recipe, culinary experts and film buffs have pieced together what a high-end 1950s-style shake would entail.
It’s not about complexity. It’s about fat content.
A real "Martin and Lewis" needs high-quality vanilla bean ice cream—none of that "frozen dairy dessert" stuff. You need whole milk, maybe even a splash of heavy cream to get that "pretty f***ing good" reaction from a hitman. And it has to be thick. If you can drink it through a straw immediately without turning blue in the face, it’s too thin. But if it’s so thick you need a spoon, it’s not a shake; it’s a sundae. The Martin and Lewis exists in that perfect middle ground.
Cultural Impact Beyond the Screen
The milkshake Martin and Lewis scene did something rare: it made a specific food item a character in the movie. People don't just remember the dance sequence; they remember the shake. It sparked a trend in independent cinema where "the mundane" was treated with reverence.
Before Pulp Fiction, action movies were about the action. After Pulp Fiction, action movies were about what the characters ate between the action. We learned that Jules Winnfield likes Big Kahuna Burgers ("That is a tasty burger!") and that Vincent Vega enjoys a good steak. But the Martin and Lewis shake remains the crown jewel of the film’s culinary moments.
Real-World Locations and Tributes
If you’re looking to find the actual Jack Rabbit Slim’s, I’ve got bad news. It was a set built in a warehouse in Culver City. The exterior was a bowling alley. You can't actually go there and order a Martin and Lewis.
However, plenty of diners have leaned into the nostalgia. You’ll find "Martin and Lewis" vanilla shakes on menus from Austin to London, usually at places that cater to film nerds. Even some high-end milk bars have "The $5 Shake" on their menu, though they usually charge closer to $15 now.
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What Most People Get Wrong
People often think the "Martin and Lewis" was a specific type of vanilla, like French Vanilla or Vanilla Bean. It wasn't. The joke is strictly about the duo's race compared to the Amos 'n' Andy duo. Tarantino’s dialogue often plays with pop culture history in a way that’s slightly "incorrect" or filtered through the lens of his characters' limited perspectives.
Also, many fans forget that Mia barely finishes the shake. She’s more interested in the conversation and the eventual dance contest. The shake is a prop that facilitates the tension between her and Vincent. It’s a peace offering, a way to break the ice before they head to the dance floor to win that trophy (which, as we later find out, they might have actually stolen).
The Legacy of the Milkshake Martin and Lewis
There’s a nuance to the way we discuss movie food. Most of the time, it's just background noise. But the milkshake Martin and Lewis dialogue changed how screenwriters approach world-building. It showed that you could spend three minutes talking about the price of a drink and have it be more engaging than a car chase.
It also cemented the "cool" factor of 1950s nostalgia. By the mid-90s, the 50s were becoming a distant, fuzzy memory. Tarantino sharpened that memory, gave it a bit of a grime, and served it up in a tall glass.
How to Make Your Own Martin and Lewis (The Proper Way)
If you want to recreate this at home and see if it's worth the hype, don't overthink it. Use the "rule of three."
- Three Large Scoops: Use premium vanilla bean ice cream. Look for a brand that has those tiny black specks in it.
- Half a Cup of Whole Milk: Don't use 2% or skim. You need the fat to carry the flavor.
- One Drop of Vanilla Extract: Just to punch up the aroma.
Blend it until it's smooth but still holds its shape. Pour it into a tall, chilled glass. Top it with a generous amount of whipped cream (from a can is actually more "diner-authentic") and a single maraschino cherry.
Take a sip. Ask yourself if it’s worth five dollars.
The answer, in 2026, is almost certainly yes. In fact, it’s a bargain.
Actionable Insights for Film and Food Lovers
To truly appreciate the milkshake Martin and Lewis phenomenon, you have to look at the context of the scene. It’s about the "first date" energy between two people who shouldn't be together.
- Watch the Scene Again: Pay attention to Steve Buscemi’s performance as the waiter. His visible annoyance at having to explain the shake options adds a layer of realism to the "overpriced theme restaurant" experience.
- Explore the Duo: If you’ve never seen a Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis movie, start with The Caddy or Artists and Models. You’ll see why they were the "Vanilla" and "Chocolate" of their era—not in terms of race, but in terms of being the essential, standard-setting flavors of American comedy.
- Visit a Classic Diner: Seek out an old-school soda fountain that still uses silver mixing tins. The "Martin and Lewis" is a state of mind as much as it is a recipe.
The next time you're out and you see a menu item with a ridiculous price tag, remember Vincent Vega. Don't just complain about the price—order it, try it, and be honest about whether it’s "pretty f***ing good." Sometimes, the experience is worth the extra few dollars.