I know it sounds a bit trendy–going to one of many self-serve yogurt places with fruitastic names or Utopian titles and believing that 34 cents an ounce for fro-yo is completely acceptable–but there’s many reasons one could reach out for the chilly treat. In comparison to it’s denser and decadent counterpart (ice cream), one can convince his or her self that it is a nearly guilt-free delight and if one chooses the fruit flavors it actually goes toward your daily required fruits and vegetables; there’s also the simple reason of it sounded good, or because it lends its-self to the kind of communal gratification that bucking the star does. There are various reasons for the craving, but I chose to indulge for the lowliest of reasons, however not uncommon, the need to console myself via food. It’s a tragic reason and although I probably will not feel any better emotionally after consuming; I will, however, be completely satisfied by the epicurean masterpiece.
I do have a favorite studio to sculpt my digestion safe dessert. I’ve tried many and many I have loved, but no more than I love Yogurt World. Perhaps the reason I favor this venue is because of the near-death experience everyone who tries parking in the strip-mall parking lot is guaranteed to have–it just makes you feel as though you’ve earned a soothing sorbet as a reward. I prefer to come during quiet times and skip the crowd, but won’t let the line out the door deter me from my mission. The worst part of a crowded experience is watching the constant grazing. I completely understand the tenacity behind a perfect developed cup of yogurt and that straying away from those dependable flavors is a difficult thing to do. My problem is that this does not mean one should lose all sense of propriety and manners and go from one fountain to the next with an itty bitty paper-cup to prove that those well-developed layers of yogurt one always chooses are still the best in the lot. But this is just me momentarily venting. I shall continue…
justalittlepiece 