Yogurtland

My gustatory adventures continue! Tonight, we visited Yogurtland, one of the many, many yogurt chains that survive and thrive on the West Coast. People out here love their yogurt the way we North Carolinians love our deep-fried Twix. And after dessert at Yogurtland, I can’t really blame them.

Yes, Yogurt is ostensibly healthy, which means it should taste bad, or at least bland. To put it in Venn diagram terms, “Good tasting” and “Good for you” almost never overlap. Yogurtland is one of the very few exceptions. Sort of. It tastes delicious, but, on further consideration, I kind of doubt that it’s healthy. Let me put it this way. Any place that offers “unlimited toppings”—including marshmallows, chocolate chips, and M&Ms—can’t be that good for you.

But so what? I’m young. I can destroy my body. I may regret it later, but that’s later and this is now. The amazing thing about Yogurtland is that you can build your own dessert. You go in there, and on the wall you see row after row of yogurt machines. Flavors include “Strawberry,” “Blueberry,” and an intriguing purple number called “Taro.” Naturally, I skipped these and went straight for “New York Cheesecake” and “Cookies and Cream.”

Yogurtland cups come in two sizes: Huge and Huger. Huge is so big, you could give a baby a sponge bathe in it. As for Huge, let’s just say it could comfortably fit Orson Welles, his twin brother, and their dinner. I went for Huge. Got to show at least a little restraint.

My restraint lasted about as long as a Bama fan at an Auburn tailgate party. Here’s the thing about serve-yourself style food. You always take more than you expect. Always, always, always. It’s a law of nature, as unbreakable as gravity. You think, “Oh, I’d better pace myself.” Think again. Before you know it you’ve piled enough food on your plate to feed an army corps.

I dashed back and forth, going from yogurt pump to yogurt pump, filling up my Huge cup with Chocolate and Cookies and Cream and Fried Lard flavored yogurt. The flavors all looked so beautiful, pouring out in loops and swirls, that I didn’t have the heart to stop. Five minutes passed. Now, I’m carrying the yogurt version of the Sears Tower. The tip-top layer (Super Triple Deluxe Chocolate with a Triple Gainer Belly Flop) scraped the ceiling. And I hadn’t even gotten to the toppings.

Maybe I should skip the part about the toppings. My pancreas is still weeping at the memory.

Conclusion? Utter deliciousness. It certainly wasn’t good for me in the traditional sense. But I’ve never been a man for tradition. I like to think outside the box. Why do we have to measure health with outdated things like “Heart Rate” and “Not Suffering Massive Organ Failure”? I think we ought to judge health on basis of our happiness. And Yogurtland made me very, very happy indeed.