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| - If I were a Gossip Girl fan, the last time I was in New York, I would have made a point of buying a tub of pinkberry and hurrying to the nearest museum for a rowdy bout of character exposition and melting yogurt.
Instead, I have watched as a series of Canadian imitators have claimed the tart yogurt pick n mix market niche. Apparently, it's a big niche. The stretch of Bloor between Spadina and Bathurst alone boasts several yogurt shops, including a Menchies branch.
This review aims further north, to the wilds of Thornhill, where on a Saturday afternoon the place is overrun by young families determined to boost their intestinal flora. It's a cute shop, mostly plastic, which I imagine means that it's easily hosed down when yogurt or stomachs get upended. Bright colours and low plastic tables and chairs dominate the front of the room. A series of soft-serve machines crank out a variety of frozen yogurts at the back; a topping bar takes up one side wall, and photos of 'celebrities' take up the other. The centre of the room is taken up by a weigh station and cash register.
The yogurt itself is pleasant enough, although it melts a bit quickly if you're a slow eater. You pick up a giant cardboard tub and have at it. Tasting cups make an amateur food critic's job easier; I sample half of what's offered, before settling on chocolate/vanilla swirl. My date loves the cake batter, and it tastes as promised, although I prefer a fabulously fruity pina colada and strawberry mix. The original flavour is tart and refreshing, but I have a weakness for the classics.
And really, if you're coming here for the yogurt itself, you're missing the point.
The real draw for adults and kids alike is the insane range of toppings available for yo' fro-yo. Everything from cookies in raw and cooked crumbles, to candies, to syrups and fruit (yeah, right) beckons.
This is where my critical faculties fail me. Menchies' design, like a buffet or large chain, is built to resist proper food criticism; it shifts the onus entirely to the consumer, and promises an experience in abandon. Do peanut butter candies really belong with chocolate and strawberry syrups and skor bits and cookie dough, etc. etc. etc? If you were to see a composed dish like this on a menu, you'd likely say "Hell no".
Menchies throws precisely this culinary gauntlet. You choose it, you eat it. Menchies appeals to our worst nature, then charges us by the ounce for the thrill of blind choice. As adults, we are used to the restraint preached by Coco Chanel, that before one leaves the house one should remove at least one accessory. At Menchies we return to the childhood glee of more, more, more.
Was my Sundae good? Who cares? I had fun making it, and would keep coming back until i get it right.
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