Friday Fan Letter: Forever Yogurt

Yogurt Bar

Outlaw Mama's Dream Dessert

Dear Forever Yogurt,

 

It’s really trendy these days to label oneself a control freak.  Everyone who has the slightest preference about anything claims the title.  With this proliferation of self-proclaimed control freaks running around, I have decided that I, in fact, am not a control freak.  Nevertheless, I like to serve my own dessert.  Thanks to you, I can do that now in public.

 

I freaking love Forever Yogurt. I love that you trust me to scoop my own condiments into my yogurt.  I like to mix and match and it’s so humiliating to go to TCBY and say, “I would like 4 kernels of granola, 17 raisins and an ounce of sprinkles.”  Those people make minimum wage; they rightfully balk at having to count out  my raisins.

 

But, when I walk into Forever Yogurt, I wait on myself.  And I like it.  A lot.

 

I like that I can make the most atrocious mix of yogurts in my own private little cup without the disapproving stare of an employee wearing a colorful apron and matching hat.  I like your cookie dough and your kiwi bits.  I like that your spoons are both deep and long so that when I get some yogurt after teaching my class I can walk down the street eating my yogurt and not drip all over  my hands.  I have a reputation to uphold, so fingers caked with frozen yogurt might compromise my professorial image. (Unlike this blog, which only enhances by image as a competent teacher of legal scholars.) And, I’m so thrilled that you have declicious flavors like coffee and thin mint and peanut butter– I have no idea what the hell is in your yogurt, but the sign above professes that it’s not too fattening and it tastes like a dream.

 

Let people who love the taste of curdled milk enjoy their Starfruit and Pinkberry.  They can have it.  I want the artificial and preservative-filled cup of goodness that I can serve up myself.  My only complaint is that the location nearest my house is not open until 11:00 a.m.  You know, there is a crowd of people (say, me and Simon and Sadie) who get up at 5:30 a.m. (thanks, Simon) and are ready for a sweet treat by 9:45 a.m.  I didn’t appreciate it when the winter shift was consistently late in opening the store last year.   Other than those small gaffes, I have enjoyed every cup of self-created frozen yumminess.   I humbly request that you add pecans to your Wicker Park location and how about a Groupon now and then?

 

You have confirmed my life-long thesis: Nothing tastes as good as being in control.

 

Yum Yum,

 

Outlaw Mama

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