16 (Love) Handles

One of the endearing yet laughable qualities of Main Mistress is that she avoids trends like the plague.  When Bridget Jones's Diary came out, she refused to read it for about two years because she was convinced she would hate it based on the numbers of people who loved it. Years earlier, she went through the same charade with Wally Lamb's She's Come Undone. And there have been innumerable instances of Main Mistress shunning a slamming product just because it is popular.

Therefore, when 16 Handles shops began sprouting up on Manhattan streets like Starbuckses, Main Mistress snorted loudly, rolled her eyes and strutted in the opposite direction, nose held high.

As it turns out, there is a 16 Handles directly across from her favorite hangout, the JCC in Manhattan, located -- in fact -- just behind the bus stop for Main Mistress's favorite bus line, the one that zips down Columbus and back up Amsterdam...the M11.

Day and night, winter, spring, summer and fall, throngs of people fill this shop. Every pink and orange chair in front of the shop is occupied at all hours. The business seems to be a real draw with the yarmulke crowd as the yogurt and toppings are certified kosher. Junior Mistress, a vegan, is a fan and frequently talks about how great 16 Handles is. "They have amazing dairy-free yogurt!" she has exulted.

Until last night, Main Mistress would simply sashay past the store but faced with the insane humidity of Bryant Park for the two hours she and Main Master spent waiting for the free showing of Roman Holiday to begin, there was no alternative.

Leaving their table on the side of the dangerously overcrowded Bryant Park lawn, where they had enjoyed a take-out dinner courtesy of The Hummus Place as well as white wine they had to surreptitiously sip (no booze allowed in the park), they headed for the Times Square subway station, sweat trickling down their backs, hair plastered to their foreheads and necks. At Main Mistresses's advice, they had parked their Honda on Columbus and 75th Street, having used the car previously to drive to the post office on 125th Street to pick up a package.

The original plan was to hop on an express, taking it one stop uptown but the platform of the uptown 1, 2 and 3 trains was easily 200 degrees. When a local train arrived first, they dove inside. On the train, Main Master looked like he was going to faint, while Main Mistress, happily plastered from two glasses of wine, hardly noticed that her hair had frizzed to Pomeranian-like dimensions. Arriving at the W72nd Street station, she realized that Main Master needed emergency care.

"Screme? 16 Handles?"she asked, as they walked past the Screme Gelato kiosk in Verdi Square, which was mobbed by humans who looked like they needed CPR.

But Main Master was too far gone to even respond.  Main Mistress took him by the hand and considered the best course of action. That course led them to the pink and orange shop on the corner of 75th and Amsterdam.

It was the right decision. Eyes growing big like frisbees, Main Master grabbed a cup and practically ran to the line of yogurt dispensers. The simple act of filling his cup with frozen yogurt acted like a shot of adrenaline. Soon, Main Master was skipping down the line of yogurt handles, giggling, like a kid at the Viennese table of a Bar Mitzvah. Ever cynical, Main Mistress scoped out the sample cups. Yes, there were oodles of flavors but before she committed, she wanted to know what the fuss was about.

While Main Master happily piled lychee nuts and walnuts atop his swirls of vanilla and blueberry yogurt, Main Mistress warily checked out the Coconut Custard Pie, the Praline and the Birthday Cake flavors.

The good news, as she told me later, is that 16 Handles is as delicious as Wally's soft-serve ice cream in Monroe and ostensibly healthier. A poster promoting the healthful benefits of probiotics assured her of this fact.

Sated from her sampling, Main Mistress made a mental note to commit to an actual cup of the stuff next time (that is, pay for the goods), topped, perhaps, with mini cheesecake cubes, slivered almonds and toasted coconut.

It sounds like a solid plan except for one detail.

How could she fail to notice that Nala and I have been dying in this heat!! Main Master is not the only one wilting on the street! What about her pooches?? Has she not noticed that we are saddled with these heavy fur coats??? Has she not heard our desperate panting??? Does she think we have internal air conditioning???

In the heat of a Manhattan summer, frozen treats are a dog's best friend. Hey Main Mistress!!! Next time, share a few of those 16 Handles with us!!!!!

Barks 'n lick,

Alfie