Monday, August 2, 2010

Pinkberry. It's good.

Last weekend, it was freakin', freakin' hot out. But since these days I'm cooped up inside at my computer all day, I was dead set on getting out and walking around for a while. So I headed down to the New Amsterdam Market, where I managed to spill red wine all over my yellow shorts within a few moments of arriving. I'm serious. There I was, on the complete other side of town, soaked in wine that was ruining 50% of my summer wardrobe (I only own two pairs of shorts that fit) with every passing second. Did I go home and try to launder them immediately, as a quick internet search on my Blackberry revealed was the best course of action? Um, no. I ducked into the nearest bathroom, blotted halfheartedly, decided the shorts were ruined, and then went on my merry way.

After finishing with the Market, I ended up walking north, through the blistering and hectic streets of Chinatown, and found myself in Nolita. There was a Pinkberry. I went in. I waited on line. I ordered. I blacked out-- what just happened?

Okay, what happened was this: I was there for the watermelon flavor, which according to the friendly cashier was "on vacation" at the moment (um, how come Pinkberry flavors get summer vacation when I don't???). It was replaced by mango, so I got a small cup with half original, half mango. I declined toppings; curiously, since the last time I'd been to a Pinkberry, they'd switched the price-per topping structure with a "toppings bar," where you pay for "toppings" and can get as many as you want. Kind of cool! Still, I bypassed it for the straight-up goods.

Twin peaks

All I can say is, yum. On a hot day, Pinkberry is seriously refreshing. The mango tasted like mango yet wasn't overpoweringly sweet; the original was creamy and tangy and delightful. The whole cup was gone in a minute or so as I gobbled it down before heading out into the streets.

I always leave Pinkberry feeling a little bit bereft, like I just spent a lot of money on something that was good but yet not...good...enough... or something. I don't know. I think the point is, Pinkberry is damn expensive, and that's why I don't go very often. But on a hot summer day when you're nearing heatstroke status, it'll do a body good.

Oh, and readers, in case you're wondering: When I returned home (after walking yet more through the Village), I decided in a fit of self-starting to go all Martha Stewart on those yellow shorts' ass. Figuratively. A bit more googling revealed a promising home remedy, and a quick trip to the nearby corner bodega later, I witnessed a miracle-- the stain was gone. So, I hereby bring you probably the only useful piece of advice you will ever get out of this blog:

How To Remove A Red Wine Stain From Anything:

Mix one part dishwashing soap (the liquid stuff you use for soaking pans in your sink) with two parts hydrogen peroxide. Pour on the stain. Let it soak. In a few minutes you will return and the stain will be gone. I am not kidding.

Various locations in NYC and beyond

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