I’m not one of those devoted fans of frozen yogurt. And ice cream – except for those summer days when the pavement is practically melting – leaves me cold. (Ba dum dum) I am, however, addicted to the goaty goodness of strained Greek yogurt. Given the fact that Greece has been about as temperate as a wok this summer and almost every person I’ve passed in the street these weeks has been unabashedly lapping at giant cups and cones of soft serve, it is a wonder I’ve not put the two together. Soaked in sweat I at last made that correction today in Crete with a simple dish of frozen Greek yogurt topped with sour cherries. Delirium ensued with the first spoonful – along with a palm smack to the forehead. Cool, creamy, thick and spunky, this fro-yo can be summed up in one word: fierce.