Yo, Yo, Yo…Gurt

Pin It Most people seem to love frozen yogurt—in fact, I’ve been with people who get a bit crazy when presented with the idea of going to get this frozen delight (in the case of some girls, this consists of hand flapping, a general air of excitement akin to Christmas morning, and shrieks which reach a level which can only be heard by cats and dogs. I myself am not grouped into this category of thrillation, but I do dabble in the yogurt arena from time to time—usually when there’s no other option left.

Perhaps this aversion was the result of being placated with frozen yogurt as a child when my parents would drive to Spokane with my siblings and I. I guess they figured that frozen yogurt was a ‘healthy alternative’ to ice cream. Unfortunately, this old school yogurt more often than not tasted like frozen, shredded cardboard—especially when the toppings they offered consisted of items such as diced coconut and walnuts.

Fast-forward to the here and now.

My friends and I are currently in California; one of the girls brought up the idea of running out for a frozen yogurt (see above reaction). As we drove the sweltering distance across town, I found myself becoming more and more disappointed. This feeling dropped to an all time low as we pulled outside an establishment named, “Yogurtland.”

Yogurt? I’d rather eat spoonfuls of lard. Generally speaking, it would have about the same consistency, and would most likely have had a much better flavor. As we walked through the double doors I braced myself and brought to mind the lowest of expectations—still fully expecting to still find myself grossly disappointed.

I was a bit surprised as I saw an entire bank of yogurt dispensers with flavors like Cookies and Crème, praline, and New York cheesecake. Basically ranging from mouth-watering to pure awesomeness.

This was clearly not my mother’s yogurt.

I was a bit overwhelmed as we moved to the rear of the building and grabbed the self-serve cups furnished in two convenient sizes: large and larger. I tried a dozen different flavors and ended up with three or four different kinds in my container. As I moved to the toppings, I gasped. Reese’s, Kit Kat, cookie dough, brownie, a plethora of cereals and fruit toppings—a veritable smorgasbord of garnishing goodness and a celebration of diversity. Several times I found myself pushing down the yogurt to allow for another scoop of peanut butter cup or fresh strawberries and caramel sauce to sift down through all the cracks, cementing it into a cylinderish brick of pure unadulterated awesome.

We paid for our desert—a deal at $ .30 per ounce and moved to one of the tables to enjoy.

Halfway through this blissful experience, I felt nauseous and my overpowered taste buds were screaming for me to surrender. Naturally, I didn’t—it was simply all so delicious that I couldn’t help but eat the whole thing. Spoonful after spoonful were consumed and brought me further and further toward the edge of diminishing return.

Frozen yogurt? At a Disney-esque playground for your mouth? I find myself giving a voluntary interior shriek and a proverbial flapping of the hands. Yogurt, my friends, is the bomb.