“People come in and ask for it,” says Mariana Salazar, who fills cups from a soft-serve machine. “Some come in three times a day for breakfast, lunch, and dinner; they go crazy for it.”
On the rare occasions that supplies run low, assistant manager Gordon Herman adds, “customers get very irritated because they can’t get their yogurt.”
Not everyone, of course, is a convert.
“It’s not good,” says a 21-year-old customer named Brittany who declined to give her last name. “Yogurt is usually a dessert, and this is way too tart.”
Her solution: Stick with the more familiar sweet yogurt also available at the store.
The divide between sweet and tart, in fact, sometimes comes between families. “This is for me and this is for my kids,” explains Paula Loftus, walking away with two separate bags. While she loves plain tart yogurt, Loftus’ three children—age 10, 14, and 17—don’t share her taste. “They like vanilla, chocolate, and coffee,” she says.
Other families don’t suffer from such generational divisions. Some even claim that their children—who, unlike many parents, grew up with frozen yogurt—are leading the way. The taste for tart, in fact, seems to traverse age and cultural lines; Alberto Medina, 74, says he eats it regularly at home.
“We use it instead of sour cream,” Medina says.
The craze has even come close to home for me. Driving past the strip mall just a few blocks from my house one afternoon, I am astounded to discover the opportunity’s close proximity; a new frozen yogurt shop has opened there just since the last time I’ve looked.
My culinary destiny has come full circle. With what I admit is a bit of trepidation, I pull into the parking lot of the new local Yogurberry. Inside, the place is pink and styled with what looks like little plastic berries mounted prominently on its walls. A bunch of teenagers, apparently on a break from the high school nearby, sit at dainty parlor-style tables with notebooks all askew.
“I just came by one day, tried it, and thought it was really good,” explains Amy Niemeyer, 17, enjoying a helping of peach. “I like plain yogurt; it’s not as sweet and tastes more natural.”
Her 18-year-old friend, Ashley Meyer, suggests adding a fruit topping. “It tastes like sweet-and-sour,” she says.
The time for hesitation is through. Taking a deep breath, I march up to the counter looking the man behind it straight in the eye. No strawberry, peach, or blueberry for me; I am going directly to the source.
“Give me plain yogurt,” I say. “No toppings.”
What follows can only be described as one of life’s little moments. Like when you’re walking down the street of a foreign city and run into your college roommate. There’s no other way to put it: Sitting in the parlor of Yogurberry that afternoon transports me back to my parents’ kitchen, the place of my childhood where once I’d felt soothed.
Yogurt is definitely back.