Fro-Yo

All I've wanted for the last 2 weeks is chocolate soft-serve frozen yogurt in a waffle cone, and I can't seem to find it anywhere in San Francisco.

San Francisco! Land of all things culinary. I mean, what the hell?

Don't get me wrong, I love local, organic ice cream as much as the next Dolores Park-dwelling yuppie. People line up along 18th Street for BiRite Creamery's honey lavender and salted caramel ice cream, all made from local Strauss Dairy. I get it, it's delicious. But to me, frozen yogurt, like fruit roll-ups and Honey Nut Cheerios, is less about the actual quality and flavor complexity, and more about what it reminds me of. In the case of fro-yo, it's going with my dad to Yogurt Farms on Mendocino Avenue in Santa Rosa in the late 1980's to buy frozen yogurt for our family to eat on Thursday nights while we watched The Cosby Show together. We always got one container of chocolate yogurt, one container of peanut butter yogurt and a cone for me. Jeremy, then a toddler, wore footie pajamas with a permanent chocolate yogurt stain. There were throw blankets and cuddling involved, and sometimes we even played Yahtzee during the commercials. Please don't gag--I was much edgier once I hit adolescence.

Fortunately, next week is Thanksgiving, and I'll be heading up to Santa Rosa, where my family and I will be eating local, organic food and drinking the best wine Sonoma County has to offer. We will absolutely not be watching The Cosby Show, and let's hope Jeremy (who is 23 and enormous) has retired the footie pj's, but I'm hoping to organize a trip to Yogurt Farms nonetheless. And maybe a little Yahtzee too.

Love.
Gabi