On Frozen Yogurt and Other Endangered Foods

In this post on the novel I'm writing in November, 1jpb links to ZPS's blog entry on Penguin's Frozen Yogurt.

Penguin's used to be everywhere. Now they're not. ZPS wonders why.

I discussed this phenomenon with a savvy investor person not as related to Penguin's, but as it related to Boston Market. He pointed out that there are very good financial reasons to hyperinflate a company until it bursts--provided you know how to get out before it actually does so.

This happens a lot. Not just with trendy foods, because yogurt was pretty trendy and it's reasonable to think that any given food trend will pass, as it did with cajun and with--well, does anyone remember the chocolate chip cookie boutique days? That predated yogurt a bit.

So, there perhaps aren't as many Mrs. Fields as there used to be because of some financial shenanigans--but there are still some cookie boutiques. Same with Penguin's and frozen yogurt. I don't know of an equivalent to Boston Market, at least around here, but we seem to have trouble supporting "American food" here. No more Roger's Roasters, but plenty of chicken places. Salad bars seem to have mostly vanished, to be replaced by buffets, which I suppose are mostly "American food". (Though the salad bar places used to be pretty high quality, more upscale for a place that made you get your own food, and the buffets seem to be decidedly low rent.) The Sizzler adapted itself a couple of times, including into and out of the "salad bar" phase, though I think it's finally gone for good.

Bob's Big Boy--and going back a ways, The Copper Penny (I think that was just local) and Sambo's, and more recently, Baker's Square and Coco's: All American diner's that used to be everywhere and now aren't.

The upshot is that there are foods that you used to be able to get and now can't, or can't easily. This is a sign of impending old age.

Most of the foods that I like that no longer exist were not from big chains but from little mom & pop shops that went away. Spaghetti from Mike's Pizza (in Encino or Panorama City), a Pageburger Club from Page's (Encino), A Poor Boy Pizza from Jo Mama's (Burbank) or a carob shake from a little shack outside an arcade in Westwood.

The carob shake was insidious. You'd drink a little bit and not like it. But then you'd drink a little more. And by the time you got to the bottom, you were hooked. It was sweet, but a little bitter as well.

Anyway, whaat do you think about remembering lost foods, lost loves, lost places? I tend to think one should severely restrict it, lest one end up sitting on a rocker on the porch, awash in the past, and telling the kids about the orange groves stretching out "as far as the eye can see".