Day 15: Fro-Yo Fever

About two years ago, I threw a penny in a magical fountain and made two wishes: one, that it would become easier to find teeny-tiny hamburgers served in multiples, and two, that frozen yogurt would come back in style. While I might be making up the part about the fountain, that's how I'm spinning it, because both wishes came true.

These days, there isn't a restaurant of high or low cuisine that doesn't have their version of "sliders," with lots of additions to the basic model, like Kobe beef (Ruby's Diner) and fried red onion strings (Islands) and spicy pink chipotle sauce (Sammy's.) Recently, David and I had Indian food and even they were serving sliders--seasoned lamb, served on tiny circles of naan, slathered in mango chutney. Can you say INSPIRED?

Sliders are awesome for so many reasons, and as any five-year-old will tell you: Duh, it's just basic math, three is better than one. Mostly, though, I love them because you get three "do-overs" for that divine moment when you bite into your burger for the first time, before all the bits fall out, the sauce runs down your hand, and the bun starts getting soggy. Did I mention that three is better than one?

But the frozen yogurt resurgence has exceeded my wildest dreams, because in their new incarnation, many of these places are "DIY." Having been helpless on countless occasions as a pony-tailed girl with her back to me fills my cup to the heavens while I shout for her to stop, or plunks on two marshmallows when I really wanted 22, it's like a whole new world.

When we first moved to our current house, we were happy to be a 10-minute drive from a Golden Spoon, which in my opinion still has the best yogurt, in the "realest" flavors. But their toppings are limited and frustratingly sealed behind Plexiglass, so often I get mine plain. Which is fine, but then our beloved babysitter told us that just a few blocks away was Yogurt Xpress, where you build your own, and we gave it a try. Wow! First, you can have as many tastes as you want, since you serve them yourself in the tiny spitcups. Not that I like a lot of tastes (I get too full) but sometimes you just wanna try something new without gambling. Second, I can fill my cup half-way and no one gets their panties in a wad about it. I just know myself--I'm only eating half. Finally, the toppings are off the hook: there's a whole wall of dry toppings, with every kind of chewy, crunchy, chocolatey, candilicious texture, and a bunch of squeezy bottles with every kind of sauce. Best of all, you stick your creation on the scale and they say "That will be 79 cents, please," or some other ridiculous number that makes you wonder about their overhead.

Now we have another "make your own" that's sprung up near our house, YogurtWorks, and if anything, they have even MORE toppings, including every kind of cereal. My favorite is Fruity Pebbles, perhaps because my mother once almost retched at my very request to buy it. They add a nice, sugary crunch to a bite of cold, creamy vanilla. What can I say? See above where I think like a five-year-old.

Today Jarrah and I were driving towards Arizona (that's another story, but let's just say I might have misunderstood Google maps) and we got hungry right when we saw yet another yogurt shop, Yo-Yo's. Both of us lit up when we opened the door to the frosty interior and saw the "Here's How It Works" on the wall. Jarrah is a pro now, and directed me straight towards the Fruit-Loops and the mini-marshmallows. I admired the freezer unit they have for all the "better cold" chocolates candies, and the staggering range of colorful gummy shapes. Once again, I placed our two cups on the scale and heard, "That will be $2.37, please." I paused, thinking she meant just mine, but no, that was the total for both. Sweet.