Raspberry Fudge Torte Frozen Yogurt
Vanilla flavored frozen yogurt with a raspberry swirl and old fashioned fudge pieces
Raspberry Fudge Torte Frozen Yogurt
Date Tried - January 10, 2023
Location - Standing at the edge of the counter
Format - Hand packed pint
Milkshake It? - No
Buy Again? - No
The beauty of the hand packed pint, according to the Stewart’s website, is that it is ideal for “limited edition flavors that you want to stock up on.”
We are three months into the ‘I Scream, You Scream’ challenge and Raspberry Fudge Torte Frozen Yogurt is the first hand packed pint of the bunch. It’s not limited edition, but it is only available as a half gallon outside of the scoop counter.
Six of one, half a dozen of the other.
The side of the container states, “Hand packing a pint of ice cream gives it a smoother, creamier texture by pushing out some of the air.” There is intrinsic romance in the hand packing; it is a charming level of service that can’t be found everywhere. But I don’t buy into this claim. If this air issue were the case, some food scientist somewhere would have solved for it. Maybe I’m a cynic, but I think there must be an ulterior motive lurking in the shadows. Yes, I will admit that the ice cream is imbued with less esoteric magnetism when it is packed by a robot, that it has less soul. I value this small mystical notion—whether it is deserved or not.
But I don’t think there’s more air when it’s machine packed. Neither does Lisa.
And she hand packs ice cream pints professionally.
Frozen yogurt is delightful, though I don’t like those shops where you can fill your cup with increasingly more radical candies. The yogurt doesn’t deserve to be buried in this fashion, to have its refreshing tartness drowned mercilessly in mass produced confections.
Raspberry Fudge Torte Frozen Yogurt is not that extreme. But in a similar fashion, its downfall is the “old fashioned fudge pieces.” On their own, these thicker, blockier pieces of chocolate are a welcome change of pace. But, in this context, they don’t work for me. I’m left with the feeling one has when they venture into a candy sampler box without a map and accidentally choose the raspberry-filled chocolate.
It’s not the worst. But would you celebrate its discovery?
As far as the yogurt itself goes, I definitely don’t hate it. It was a little icy, but I’m not sure if that’s par for the course or if it’s a result of the hand packed pint. Stewart’s ice cream base is exceptional because of its density. You can almost chew it—can almost squeeze it into different shapes like a ball of Play-Doh in the back of your mouth before it fully melts. In terms of the ingredient list, I imagine we have the gums to thank for this—locust bean and cellulose, chiefly.
You lose this playful texture with the frozen yogurt, which is unsurprising.
Raspberry Fudge Torte Frozen Yogurt is another example of the website picture (seen above) being drastically different than its appearance in real life. In our pint, the raspberry swirl looked like simple injections of Black Raspberry, a subtle, deep purple marbling. But the photo makes the swirl look like fresh, hot blood—like the red streaks in a pair of Zubaz that you’d see at a Buffalo Bills game.
Before we wrap, there is one more “first” to be celebrated in this review: my first brain freeze as part of the challenge. A brain freeze is a curious, wild ride (a real brain freeze, I mean—one that arrives furiously and impressively.)
That feeling of your brain going into hyperdrive in a moment’s notice. Pain and shock—a startling diminishment of mental ability. Your face muscles strain into a twisted mess and you become briefly incapable of processing your whereabouts, of registering how your behavior is resonating with those around you. You know it will be short with no lasting effects and you know without a doubt that, as it runs its course, you are alive.
So you strap in for the ride and eagerly await the moment where you can laugh sociably with your friends about your momentary lapse of Humanity, about being brought to the edge for a few seconds and having your capacity for Reason dangled above the abyss.
A sensation that—just maybe—one could find themselves seeking out from time to time.