I was at Earth Fare this morning, doing my weekly shopping trip. It was — I believe — the first time I’ve attempted this with all 3 children in-tow. It went surprisingly well. I had the wee one in a sling, and the older two were unusually well-behaved.
So while I might like to paint a picture of me being frazzled and overwhelmed, and therefore just needing to pamper myself with a treat, I can’t do it. But when I walked by the yogurt in the dairy case, this little cup called out to me. Plum and walnut? How could I resist that flavor, at this time of year? In a L’Oreal-inspired “because I’m worth it” moment, I bought it.
Fast-forward half an hour, and after making lunch for the kids while the baby screamed her head off, being torturously left in her carseat for five minutes, I sat down to feed screaming baby and simultaneously began scarfing down this heavenly yogurt creation.
Have you had this stuff? This is beyond what yogurt should be. It really shouldn’t be called yogurt; it’s more in line with some whipped delight, a confection of more disastrous coronary implications (disclaimer: there’s a reason it tastes so good… so if you’re avoiding saturated fat, it’s not the choice for you).
This is how good it is: given the choice of another cup of this yogurt or a Chocolove bar, I’d go with Liberté. Those crazy French-Canadians. They know what they’re doing with cultured milk. It was indeed: