Culture //

Froyo invasion!

Harry Stratton sampled a bunch of frozen yoghurt on Newtown’s King St.

Fans of things delicious and dairy everywhere, make no mistake: we are living in a fleeting golden age. Since 2011, no fewer than five – five! – frozen yoghurt shops have opened in Newtown, not to mention the innumerable gelaterias already adorning King St’s twilight vista. Such vast supply cannot possibly be supported by ongoing demand, and each day the froyo bubble edges closer to bursting; yet in the meantime, a vicious price war means that mountains of creamy deliciousness have never been more affordable. Here are three of King St’s best.

YogurBerry – four stars.

YogurBerry greeted us with bright fluorescent lights and speakers pumping Justin Bieber. Fortunately, things could only improve from there. A vast variety of flavours and toppings impressed us – mercifully sold by weight rather than at a fixed price (see WowCow, below) –  with reviewers taking a particular fancy to the rich, full chocolate and the clean crispness of the green apple. Definitely worth a look.

WowCow – two and a half stars.

WowCow’s mood lighting and vaguely Bauhaus furniture fit well into the King St shopfronts. Unfortunately, these weren’t the only signs of Newtown’s gentrification on display, with yoghurt on the expensive side and each topping an additional dollar, about twice as much as at YogurtLand. The limited range of only four flavours was also a disappointment, especially compared to the ten on offer at each of the competing outlets. With Gelatomassi just a few doors down, it’s probably worth the extra walk.

YogurtLand – four and a half stars.

Unlike WowCow and YogurBerry’s attempts to create a sophisticated atmosphere, YogurtLand’s decor reminded us of the honest ice-creameries of a simpler time. Classics like a creamy chocolate mingled with more innovative options such as a buttery red velvet cupcake battery and latte with a hint of hazelnut. Just when we thought it could get no better, a vast variety of delicious things to top off our mounds of frozen dairy were available, including actual, honest to God chocolate brownies that we would honestly go to YogurtLand just to buy. Naturally, reviewers’ hearts were racing when it came time to pay the bill, and not just because a week of research had clogged our arteries. Yet at $6.50 for a massive tub of yoghurt that left both our reviewers’ stomachs aching, YogurtLand was also the cheapest outlet we visited. The myth that froyo is just more expensive and slightly sourer ice-cream is hereby busted.


In the course of their research into this article, Honi’s reviewers attempted to delude themselves that they were eating healthily. In this they manifestly failed. Though its tangy sourness may suggest otherwise, froyo’s yumminess stems from the same crucial ingredients of milk fat and a fuckton of sugar that make ice-cream a forbidden fruit, and the self-serve system of most outlets meant customers were more likely to eat substantially more yoghurt than they would ice-cream. Those looking for a healthier option are much better off going for one of King St’s many sorbets, which, in addition to being lower in fat, were more likely to taste like actual fruit.

For a food that staked so much of its reputation on pretending to be good for you, froyo was without exception at its best when it stopped pretending and wallowed in its own fattening goodness. Load up on three or four hundred grams of creamy deliciousness, and add a brownie or two to celebrate the fact that froyo has made it socially acceptable to mix the whipped and chocotastic food groups. Honi will have the defibrillators ready.

Filed under: