1994
In high school, it was Tasti-D-Lite. Starting around mid-March, when the winter weather retreated and spring fever brought obliviousness to any lingering chill, I would walk home from school via Columbus Avenue. After a day of writer's cramp at a little desk and catching cat naps on the floor of my school's hallway, nothing felt better than stealing an hour for myself walking past the boutiques, restaurants and apartment buildings of the Upper West Side.
Tasti-D-Lite was on about 75th Street, as I recall. In those days of severe body-consciousness, the 35 calories per serving was about all I could consume without feeling like I should throw the whole thing up afterwards. But I couldn't deny myself completely, so the chocolate and vanilla swirl became a routine. I'd nurse a cup all the way down to 62nd Street.
1997
Fortunately, Durfee's closed at midnight, but there were plenty of nights when I wished the treat shop on Yale's Old Campus was open later. Much later. Since I had lived next door to Durfee's my freshman year, their frozen yogurt with rainbow sprinkles and Oreos and a freshly baked Otis Spunkmeyer chocolate chip cookie had become my second dinner. With the dining halls opened from 5:00 to 7:00pm for dinner, a girl needed to eat seven hours later! Not being the type who eats cold pizza sitting on the make-shift coffee table in the common room, Durfee's regularly came to my rescue.
As a sophomore, I still made the quick trip from my room in Jonathan Edwards college, across High Street, and through Old Campus to the treat shop. But then I was often met there by a tall, blond boy. Durfee's was a convenient half-way meeting spot between J.E. and his college, Silliman. (Well, he chivalrously walked somewhat farther than I did!) I loved him, but I never allowed him to share my spilling over cup of frozen yogurt.
2007
Ten years later, it's another campus, another treat shop. And another girl. My daughter, Esme, joins her sister Auden at the frozen yogurt dispenser at Harvard Business School's Grille. When their cups are full, I swipe my cash card at the cashier and we move to the Grille's back room to join the rest of our communal on-campus family who have gathered there for an LDS Student Association social. A bevy of little girls work through their swirls slowly, drinking the last melted drops, sealed as friends forever by this campus experience. When asked what she misses most about living in Boston, Esme still answers, "The frozen yogurt at the Grille."
2009
Frozen yogurt technology has advanced, and now there are Pinkberrys and Red Mangos peddling their tart tastes and bubble gum styles. In our Brooklyn neighborhood, it's YogoMonster on Seventh Avenue that satisfies our after-school cravings. Day after day, I maneuver the heavy glass door to get my Phil & Teds stroller and three little girls into the mod decor, hoping I've beat the crowd letting out of the high school nearby. It's the same thing every day: Original with strawberries, chocolate chips and sprinkles for the two girls, and Original with mango, strawberries and Graham cracker crumbs for me, with a few spoonfuls going to my new baby.
YogoMonster was my salvation that year in New York. When needing to get out of our apartment, a distraction after school or a treat as a bribe, I herded us to YogoMonster. Barely ripped from the embrace of business school and depressed by the reality of a crummy apartment, new baby and new move loneliness, our whole family sat on the sidewalk outside the store watching a late August afternoon thunderstorm and eating our yogurt. A rainbow was painted on the roof of an abandoned storefront across the street, and after the rainstorm, a real rainbow appeared right above. Somehow, the memory of that rainbow when we most needed cheering up made YogoMonster feel like a retreat for the rest of that difficult year.
2010
"Can we go to Spoon Me today? Please? Please?" I've said no so many times. But today, we surprisingly have nothing to do after school. And actually it's a Monday so I can pass off a trip to our new local yogurt shop in Sandy, Utah, as the Family Home Evening treat. Spoon Me is even more mod and space-agey than any of the other "tart" yogurt shops I've come across and my girls love swiveling in the white barrel chairs and hiding under the fashion-forward bar stools.
Frozen yogurt doesn't sound as good to me these days. I'd prefer an authentic bar of chocolate or some in-season fruit. But I still order three cups of Original with strawberries, chocolate chips and sprinkles. Dalloway, no longer much of a baby, eats one all by herself.
Spoon Me is our favorite around town too :)
Posted by: Stephanie | February 14, 2010 at 11:09 AM