BEST FROZEN YOGURT 2007 | Seven Sisters Sweet Shop | Shopping & Services | Phoenix
Who doesn't love a good fad? C'mon, admit it, you're hot for gelato. And cupcakes. And those foodie places popping up all over town, promising high-end gourmet but really winding up as high-end cafeterias. Still, you gotta try it, and that's how we felt about the yogurt at Seven Sisters.

A friend we trust to the ends of the earth (as far as food and fashion are concerned, at least) told us about this place, which serves the closest thing to Pinkberry yogurt this side of Santa Monica. What? You haven't heard of Pinkberry? Where have you been, darling? Apparently, frozen yogurt — that sweet, allegedly low/no-fat staple of the '80s — is alive and well and thriving in L.A., in the form of a chain that takes a Korean brand of frozen yogurt and tops it with piles of fresh fruit.

When our friend told us Seven Sisters was selling a competing Korean brand (Red Mango), we got in the car and drove for-ever to get us some. And let us tell you, it's worth it, sister. This is not your high school pal's yogurt. It's tangy and sweet, with the flavor of really good plain yogurt. (They were out of the green tea variety the day we visited.) And it's so thick we'd swear it was full-fat, but the lady behind the counter swears: "fat-free."

Seven Sisters also sells a variety of hand-dipped chocolates, including some yummy-looking chocolate-dipped Rice Krispies treats, but we weren't even tempted. Just give us a vat of that yogurt, and we'll die happy.

Judy Nichols
We no longer apologize for our need to eat dessert every day, now that we've discovered a place that bakes up the world's most responsible cookies. The Urban Cookies philosophy ("Our cookies are round, but our vision has four integral corners") says it all about this extraordinary, cookie-specific bakery, where the freshest, highest-quality ingredients are gathered from select purveyors who uphold the standards of owners Shaun and Brady Breese. The Breeses, who earlier this year moved their shop into slicker digs on Seventh Street, use 100 percent organic ingredients that are better for your health and for the environment. Our favorite? It's a toss-up between the Simple Urban, a subtle blend of bourbon vanilla and milk chocolate, and the Urban Trail, which combines roasted peanuts and brown rice crisps for a snap-crackle taste unlike any other cookie. We usually go for a half-dozen of each, and struggle to make them last 'til tomorrow.
Brownie purveyors come and go, but our favorite will always be the fairy tale of a company dreamed up by David Kravetz and Eileen Spitalny, two childhood pals who turned David's mom's brownie recipe into a booming business. We're not sure Mom thought to put espresso and cocoa nibs into her brownies, or "lively raspberry purée," but we're glad David and Eileen did, and we love reading the flavor descriptions on the Web site almost as much as we love eating the Fairytale Brownies we can pick up at AJ's or Duck and Decanter locations around town. You can also order them online or go directly to the bakery on Cotton Center Boulevard. Any way you get them, you won't be disappointed. The chocolate fix is in.
We confess. We cheated this year. A lot. It's hard to stay on the dietary straight and narrow when there's so much goodness to be had at Sweet Pea Bakery. From the signature rosemary shortbread cookie to the margarita tart with lime curd to the brownie chunk cookie and the chocolate brownie cupcake with white chocolate ganache, these people know how to get it baked.

Thankfully, Sweet Pea recently introduced a lunch menu, including healthy, seasonal salads (no matter what they're fixing, the owners make it fresh and natural) so we won't feel so guilty about that flourless chocolate cake for dessert. One s'mores tart and we promise, we're heading back to the gym.

Whenever we walk into Karsh's, we immediately think of Jerry Seinfeld. Partly because the place feels more Manhattan than Phoenix, but also because they have the best black-and-white cookies this side of NYC. (And if you don't remember that episode, you better start catching up on the ubiquitous Seinfeld reruns. That show's on more than Sex and the City.)

Ah, but we digress. This is all about the rugelach, the mondel bread, the doughy hamantaschen with thick, sweet poppyseed filling. Karsh's has it all, along with challah and bagels. The place is even kosher — blessed-by-a-rabbi-kosher — so you can indulge without Jewish guilt. The day we were there, we didn't notice chocolate babka, but oy vey, we're in Phoenix. You can't have everything.

Cathy's Rum Cake has been around for 30 years. That's a long time. Cathy was popular here before people had even heard of another woman who goes by her first name (we're talking about Martha, not Madonna), a woman who made that fondant icing so popular.

Now, we love the look of fondant, and there are some local cake purveyors who do it so well, they put M.S. to shame. But have you ever tried to bite into a hunk of the stuff? Gross. It tastes like grout. (Well, we imagine it does. We've never actually tasted construction supplies.)

Give us Cathy's cake any time. The frosting is whipped and sweet, and you don't have to get a shot of rum in the cake — although we highly recommend it. (The amaretto version's not bad, either, and you teetotalers can get it alcohol-free.) Festooned with shimmery ribbons, we'd put Cathy's cakes up against Martha's any old day. Just let us eat cake!

High-style bakeries and designer cupcakes are all the rage these days — but dessert diva Tammie Coe has long been ahead of the pack, working her magic with batter and frosting for years now. And although we've dabbled in other kinds of cupcakes around town, the ones we keep coming back to are Tammie's. Available at La Grande Orange Grocery, as well as her own tiny storefront downtown, they come in several flavors, from chocolate to toffee to an ethereal coconut version. We adore them all, although there's definitely a reason why her signature Ooey Gooey Cupcakes are the Valley's most craveable. Made with moist, just-dense-enough chocolate cake, and slathered in at least an inch of smooth, decadent buttercream icing, these babies totally live up to their name.
With all the specialty cupcake shops popping up around the Valley, you'd think we'd be psyched to get our fix at so many new places. Well, yeah, we're glad the trend's reached critical mass, but even that's not enough to satisfy us. Honestly, we've been spoiled ever since we discovered Sweet 'N Dough, pastry chef Ichha Sethi's made-to-order cupcake delivery service. That's right, we don't even need to leave the house anymore. Why risk dropping our precious cargo, or worse, having it melt before our car's A/C kicks in? All it takes to get a big pink box full of huge, from-scratch cupcakes is a couple of clicks on the Sweet 'N Dough Web site, or a quick phone call. With any combination of cake and frosting flavors, Sethi's "Better Than Grandma's" cupcakes really do rival the best homemade sweets we've ever had. When we needed some treats for a friend's birthday, we ordered a dozen of the chocolate Double Gooey — moist chocolate cake filled with cream cheese, coconut, chocolate chunks, and nuts, topped with a thick swirl of rich, whipped chocolate ganache — and everyone loved 'em. Nobody mentioned Grandma, but more than one friend raved that they were better than crack. And guess what? The box was empty in less than a minute.
This little cupcake outpost is so sweet, it'll give you a sugar rush even before you've downed a Blonde Bombshell (vanilla cake with vanilla buttercream) or a Tantrum Tamer (chocolate buttercream on vanilla cake). The walls are shades of the palest pink and seafoam green, the logo's super-duper cute (check out the Web site to see for yourself) and even the sprinkles are color-coordinated. Here's the conundrum: Do you bite into a D-Cupcake (the daily special — the day we stopped by, it was a marble cupcake with chocolate/vanilla frosting) and risk growing D-Cups (along with a D-cup butt) or do you suck it up and buy one of the pink tanks with the adorable Lulu cupcake on it? We vote for the merch, because this cupcake trend is too much fun to skip, but we don't really want it living on our hips for the next decade.



We have a question. Why is it that as soon as you have a baby, all your friends come over with steaming trays of lasagna and iced sugar cookies the size of salad plates? Bitches. Your stomach's hanging to your knees, your boobs are the size of watermelons, and your butt — well, thank goodness you lack the dexterity or the energy to get a good glimpse of that.

You don't want to eat. After nine months, you want to drink. In lieu of a big bottle of Three Olives vodka (grape flavor, please), we'll take one of those "cakes" they make at Babycakes of Scottsdale. These smart folks obviously understand the challenges of new mothers: All you really need, to go with your cocktail, is a crapload of blankets, onesies and socks, since Junior will go through a basket of laundry faster than you can say, "Make mine a double!" And because you'll be weepy (after catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror), your own personal "babycake" will distract you, constructed of useful baby accessories but covered with flowers and jewels, festooned to look just like that cake you wouldn't dare touch a bite of. Ah, but a girl can dream. And a good visual never hurts.

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