A cup as big as my hand
After a concert last night in Berkeley, Anders and I passed by a frozen yogurt shop with a twist. Yogurtland is set up self-service style, where you choose one (or two or three) of the 14+ different flavors and pull your own yogurt, and then pay by the ounce. This is deeply satisfying, because you’re in charge. I like that.
What struck me was not the number of choices, or the sea of different toppings offered (many healthy fruits), but the size of the cups offered. No joke, the smaller one looked big enough to pack in a quart of ice cream.
I didn’t want a trough of yogurt, I wanted to satisfy my sweet tooth.
And we wonder why the U.S. is an obese country.
I swear this is my last yogurt tie-in, but in Morocco, the yogurt at the Riad was served in a shot-glass-size tall thin glass container. We took to using the tiny tea spoons to eat it, because anything bigger wouldn’t fit inside. It made the whole experience very delicate. Appreciative. Perhaps it was part of our love affair with this yogurt. You had to eat it slowly and lovingly, or else it would be gone before your taste buds had a chance to register it.
The Italians do the same thing with gelato. It is offered in tiny cups, with a spoon that is really no more than a straw with the slightest flare at the end. Oh, they’ll pack three flavors in there for you, but I’m going to wager that the amount of gelato in the normal Italian cup would not even be 1/5 of what could have fit in the gluttonous chalice I was eating out of last night.
Yogurtland gets my vote for healthy tasting yogurt in a cool dispensary. They just need to take a nod from the Europeans and Steve Martin, and get small.