Since this isn’t a restaurant as such—it’s just a kiosk, at a food court—you pay up, pick up your order, and go and sit at one of the tables in the food court. The kiosk itself is manned by two people: one to act as cashier and general dispenser of information, paper napkins, and spoons; the other to actually put together the orders.

Yogen Früz offers about a dozen basic flavours of frozen yoghurt, all of them fruit-based: banana, mango, strawberry, raspberry, apple, pineapple, and blueberry were among the flavours on offer. You can buy a paper cup-full of the soft serve flavour of your choice in either of three sizes (small, regular, and large), beginning at Rs 80 for a small serving and going up to Rs 200 for a large, with a medium costing Rs 150. If you want toppings, there’s a selection of about 15 or so toppings to choose from, including nuts, cookie crumbs, and chopped fresh fruit. Each topping, depending upon the size of the helping (small, medium or large) is Rs 15, 20, or 25. In addition, there are smoothies, and a handful of the staples: hot coffee, tea, cold coffee.

What we immediately found interesting, though, was the range of ‘frozen yoghurt’ desserts—‘Ü Sensations’—on offer. Each of these is basically a sundae, consisting of frozen yoghurt, toppings, and (in some cases) other ingredients. There were eight of these on the menu, ranging from mint chocolate chip, to cheesecake, strawberry cheesecake, oreo cheesecake, mango key lime and nutty banana.

Both my husband and I opted for a Ü Sensation each, medium serving. He chose a mango key lime—which the server created by first adding a spoonful of chopped fresh mango to the cup, then topping it with key lime frozen yoghurt, and finally finishing it off with a generous sprinkle of fresh pomegranate, and an equally large quantity of chopped Kit Kat. I thought the crunch of the Kit Kat, combined with the silken tartness of the frozen yoghurt, and the juicy freshness of the pomegranate, was a great combination of textures, though for me the flavours didn’t work too well. My husband liked it all, flavours and textures, so that’s what mattered.

I ordered an apple pie Ü Sensation. This, like the mango key lime dessert, also began with fruit—chopped apples placed in the cup, then topped with a medium-sized serve of ‘autumn apple’ frozen yoghurt (redolent with spice, and really tasting pretty much like a lovely apple pie), all of it topped with a big helping of Graham cookie crumbs. This one was an absolute winner for me—I loved every aspect of it, from the flavours to the textures, to the size, which was just right.

We paid Rs 405 (inclusive of VAT) for our frozen yoghurt desserts. Expensive, but worth it, too, because both of us were very happy with what we had.

Delhi has a huge number of eateries, large and small, that serve kulfi. For many, it’s a dessert that is actually bought from a shop that specialises in making kulfi. Others make their own, but perhaps only in one or two flavours. A select few specialise only in kulfis.

Among the latter is King’s Kulfi, which has sales counters at various malls and shopping centres across Delhi. We noticed one of these on a visit—on a blistering hot day in May, with the temperature hovering around the 45 degree Celsius mark—in a mall in Saket. The Food Court at the DLF Place Mall is a busy, crowded place, and even though it’s air-conditioned, it was warm enough to make us decide we couldn’t go without treating ourselves to some kulfi.

The King’s Kulfi display counter is a bright red, manned by two staffers, one of whom was attending to customers (and there were lots) while the other refilled the containers with freshly-arrived kulfis. Kulfi is always set in a mould—either a largeish cup-like one, in which case the kulfi is unmoulded and often served with slippery vermicelli-like falooda, on a plate; or as a teeli kulfi. ‘Teeli’ is the Hindi word for twig, and that is roughly what this type of moulded kulfi contains: a light, straight bit of stick rather like a bamboo skewer, which makes the kulfi an Indian ice lolly. King’s Kulfi’s kulfis are largely teeli kulfis.On a backlit panel beside the counter was the list of kulfis on sale, beginning with the cheapest (at Rs 35 per stick), the malai (literally, ‘cream’, meaning plain sweetened kulfi) and the kesar pista (saffron and pistachio). This was followed by the classic Indian flavours: anjeer (fig), paan, thandai (a traditional summer drink, made of ground almonds, melon seeds, cardamom, sugar, milk, and—oddly, though the end result tastes fabulous—black peppercorns); and gulab (rose). These are priced at Rs 40 per stick.

The most expensive (about Rs 50 or 60) are the kulfis in pots, not on sticks: these are in three flavours—mango, kesar pista, and paan. In between are a range of ‘exotic’ flavours, which include butterscotch, Black Forest, dark chocolate, and tutti-frutti; and King’s Kulfi’s pièce de resistance, their fruit kulfis.

The fruit flavours aren’t abundant, but they’re certainly unusual. The Alphonso mango, strawberry, lychee, and black currant flavours didn’t thrill me terribly, but I was interested to see a jaamun sorbet (jaamun is a purple-skinned summer fruit, also known as the Java plum, and rather too astringent for my liking), an anaar (pomegranate) sorbet, and a sharifa kulfi.Sharifa, known in Indian English as custard apple, is one of my favourite fruits: not very sweet, and with a luscious, custard-like taste and texture that I simply adore. For me, therefore, this was a no-brainer: I ordered a sharifa kulfi, and my husband picked a pomegranate sorbet kulfi.

Both were handed over—with a paper napkin wrapped around the ‘handle’ end of the stick to catch drips—and proved delicious. My sharifa kulfi had lovely pieces of custard apple in it, and had that delicate, delicious flavour of fresh custard apple that I like so much. This got a huge thumbs up from me. The pomegranate kulfi was certainly more a sorbet than a kulfi, though it did seem to have some milk in it; the texture and colour didn’t seem to be just frozen pomegranate juice and syrup. This one didn’t taste of much except a general fruitiness. My husband liked it, though, so that was what mattered.

Our kulfis got over very quick—they aren’t large, and you can easily finish one in a minute or less. My kulfi craving was still not satisfied, so we decided to have another one, this time to share. We ordered an Alphonso mango kulfi, which had a good, creamy texture and a discernible flavour of mango. I’m not fond of Alphonso as a type of mango, so that probably contributed to my not going gaga over this one, but I guess Alphonso lovers might like it more than I did.

We paid Rs 126, inclusive of taxes, for our three kulfis: somewhat expensive (considering the kulfis are very modest in size), but the kulfis are pretty good.

This time, happening to be in the vicinity of a Giani’s store—at the PVR Anupam Shopping Complex in Saket—we decided to give it another try. The Giani’s store here isn’t enclosed; it’s basically just a small square room with two dispensing counters looking out onto the large courtyard that forms the central area of the shopping complex. You can take your ice cream and stand beside the counter (it’s a display counter, so you can’t actually rest your elbows on it). Or you can take your ice cream and go sit on one of the very few benches dotted around the paved area. Or, if you do want a place to sit next to Giani’s, there are a couple of plastic tables and chairs.

The Giani’s menu is pretty extensive. There are regular ice creams (in all the flavours popular in Delhi: chocolate, Belgian chocolate, rum and raisin, vanilla, strawberry, butterscotch, etc); gelati, sorbets, sundaes, kulfi, etc. Unfortunately, we realised after a while that the menu is for whatever Giani’s offers at different times of the year; it isn’t necessarily a reflection of what’s on sale right now.

The cheekoo ice cream and the custard apple ice cream, both made from two of my favourite fruits, would (or so we hoped) be on sale, since both sapodillas and custard apples are in season right now. But no; neither was available. We searched the display counter for other flavours that sounded appealing, and both my husband and I picked the same one: anjeer (fig). We’ve had fig ice cream (and very good stuff, too!) in other Indian ice cream stores, and hoped that Giani’s—with their reputation for good fruit ice creams—would do justice to it.

Did it? No. Resoundingly no. Their fig ice cream turned out to be a very poorly flavoured vanilla ice cream into which they’d mixed small quantities of chopped, rather chewy dried figs. The texture was all right, but the flavour itself was terribly disappointing.

Since none of the three plastic tables had been vacant when we began eating our ice creams, we had the first few spoonsful standing up. Then some people vacated a table, so we sat down. By the time we finished eating, I was certain that the fig ice cream couldn’t have been one of Giani’s specialties. All our friends couldn’t have been wrong. Maybe Giani’s are better at ‘local’ ice creams? Kulfi, for example? I therefore decided to take the plunge, and ordered yet another ice cream. A ‘royal kulfi falooda’.

It looked a little virulent when it arrived, because the falooda (a slithery, translucent accompaniment which resembles rice noodles but is made from corn flour) was a vivid yellow. I’m guessing the attempt was to make it look as if it had been coloured with saffron; it just succeeded in looking rather gaudy. The large scoop of kulfi that nestled beneath this yellow wig of falooda was creamy enough, but (like the falooda was drenched in cloyingly sweet kewra (pandanus essence). My husband, who had (with some trepidation) one plastic teaspoonful, immediately, "Throw it away! It tastes nauseating!"

Yes, it was that bad, and even I (who hate to waste anything) ended up leaving the last few spoonsful. It was no doubt exacerbated by the fact that the stench of piss had started wafting from a nearby (though invisible) urinal around this time. We beat a hasty retreat.

Our bill for three ice creams (including the royal kulfi falooda) was Rs 248. That’s cheap enough, but the ice cream was so frightful, I’d never go back.

On our almost-weekly trips to the Select City Walk Mall, we’d often passed by the Gelato Vinto store on the ground floor, or its smaller outlet on the first floor. This time we decided to stop by and actually sample some of the gelati for ourselves. The display counter has a pretty wide range of flavours available: hazelnut, butterscotch caramel cake, strawberry, cherry, kiwi fruit, bubblegum, ferro roche (like Gelato Italiano, Gelato Vinto try to replicate the flavour of the famous Ferrero Rocher chocolates, without blatantly infringing the trademark by naming it exactly that), and more.

There are three basic types of products on offer: gelati, sorbets, and frozen yoghurts. Within the gelati, there’s a further division: classic gelati, and sugarfree gelati. Among the latter, the flavours include wildberry, rich Belgian chocolate, coffee, butterscotch, chocolate hazelnut crunch, and alphonso mango.

It didn’t take us long to decide what we wanted: I was craving coffee, so I asked for a sugarfree coffee gelato, and my husband settled for a sugarfree wildberry. The gelati are served in either of two sizes: one scoop, or two. You can also choose whether you want your gelato in a cup or a cone—we chose cups.

As far as I was concerned, the flavour of the sugarfree coffee gelato was bang on target: it was deliciously strong, very obviously a good coffee—I loved the taste. Where it fell down was on texture. Instead of being creamy and smooth, as a good gelato should be, this had tiny ice crystals through it all. My husband’s sugarfree wildberry gelato was the same: that too had ice crystals. I had a spoonful of it, but didn’t think even the flavour was good enough to compensate for the unsatisfactory texture of the gelato. When I order a fruit ice cream or gelato, I like loads of fruit, not teeny-weeny bits scattered here and there.

We paid Rs 401 for our gelati, inclusive of taxes. Considering you have to stand around and eat (there’s no seating); considering the ice crystals in the gelati; and considering the lack of flavour in the wildberry gelato, that’s pretty steep. I’d not go back here.

Gelato Vinto also offer gelato shakes, and gelato cakes. You can also order gelato cakes or gelati for home delivery from some of the outlets.

The Red Mango outlet in Ambience Mall is one of the larger ones. It’s on the ground floor, just next to the escalators near the entrance on the side of the mall. The eatery is part of the main lobby, so it can be a bit noisy if you’re visiting on a weekend or holiday, when the mall is crowded. There’s a long, curving counter with a display section built into it. Opposite this are a series of small round tables with comfy red-and-white cushioned chairs. This is enclosed by a low wall which separates the eatery section from the rest of the mall.

If you’re at Red Mango for more than just dessert, there are a few sandwiches, wraps, etc which they can heat up for you. We’ve never eaten any of these, but the baked desserts—muffins, brownies, etc—are just about passable; I’ve had better, even in Delhi. Red Mango also offers freshly made waffles, with your choice of topping—caramel, chocolate sauce, bananas, and so on. These are quite nice, though I wish they’d be a bit more generous with the toppings.

In addition, there are beverages to choose from: different types of hot coffees, teas, and some cool drinks, including iced teas and smoothies.

The pièce de resistance of Red Mango, however, are its frozen yoghurts. At one end of the outlet are its frozen yoghurt dispensers. You choose a cup (regular, large, or jumbo) from the stacks beside the dispensers, and get your frozen yoghurt from the dispensers. There are currently six flavours to choose from: original, Madagascar vanilla, strawberry, blueberry, mango, and chocolate. All are fat-free and probiotic yoghurts. I prefer to stick with one flavour of yoghurt (Madagascar vanilla is my preferred flavour), but there’s nothing to stop you filling up your cup with more than one flavour—my husband often has a mix of flavours: a little bit of original, some blueberry, and some strawberry.

To add more zing to your frozen yoghurt, there’s a range of toppings to choose from: cereals, nuts, chocolate chips, dried fruit, muesli, chopped fresh fruit, marshmallows, jujubes, and more. In all, there are about thirty toppings—and if you’re inclined to be really adventurous, you can create some pretty interesting sundaes for yourself. There are also sauces—chocolate, white chocolate, and caramel—that you can quirt onto your cup of goodies.

Once you’ve got your cup of frozen yoghurt ready, toppings and all, you simply hand it over to the staff member at the counter, who’ll weigh it and charge you accordingly. The last time we visited, it was with my sister and her family. Four of us decided to have frozen yoghurt—all regular sizes, with a few toppings each (I added fresh mango, frozen thawed blackberries, and frozen thawed blueberries). Our bill, along with a green tea and a blueberry muffin—ordered by my sister and her son, who didn’t want yoghurt—came to Rs 958, inclusive of VAT. That isn’t cheap, but for the sheer goodness of this frozen yoghurt, I don’t mind. It’s delicious stuff.

Gelato Italiano is located next to the escalator that leads up to the food court at Select City Walk. It’s a large counter, which extends at one end into something that deals with desserts—but the main attraction is Gelato Italiano itself. This is part of the same hospitality company that operates
Spaghetti Kitchen, and as a brand, Gelato Italiano is today spread across 75 outlets, in Delhi, Mumbai, and other major cities in India.

The Gelato Italiano selection is fairly wide, and caters both to those who like their gelati fairly authentic (hazelnut, anybody? Or lemon?), and those who want familiar, Indian flavours (royal kulfi gelato!) There are four categories of flavours, each priced differently. The ‘popular’ flavours, at Rs 30 per cup (Rs 50 for a medium) include Swiss chocolate, butterscotch, vanilla chocolate chip, and blackcurrant. One level up, are the ‘premium’ flavours (including bubble gum, limoncello ice, choco chip royale, New York cheesecake, and choco crunch), at Rs 50 and 80. The Rs 70/110 flavours are the ‘supreme’ ones: royal kulfi, blueberry cheesecake, strawberry cheesecake, fer rocher, etc. Finally, there are the ‘ultimate’ flavours: whisky crème, diet lite (at 99% fat free), and Madagascar fine chocolate—all priced at Rs 80/125.

Gelato Italiano typically serves it gelati in paper cups; a waffle cone is available for an additional Rs 10, and a chocolate waffle cone at Rs 15.

My husband and I, after much deliberation, decided to try two very different flavours. I love fruit, so strawberry cheesecake was my choice; my husband, who’s a chocolate freak, went for the Madagascar fine chocolate. Both were fabulous, dense and creamy, yet without being rich and heavy.

My strawberry cheesecake gelati had swirls of lovely strawberry pulp, and a few (very few!) pieces of frozen strawberry in it. There was a refreshing tartness to the gelato which I really loved. My husband’s Madagascar fine chocolate was equally fantastic: very dark, rich, and utterly luscious—so much that, after I’d had a taste of it, I ended up wanting one all for myself!

We paid a total of Rs 265 (including VAT) for our two medium gelati. Not cheap, but certainly worth it.